To make words with my hands, what greater thrill..

I wanna write I wanna act I wanna art..
I wanna be recognized for this.
but I do computer, and do so unnoticed..
so that my words represent me in the world.

what's that feeling
I'm so attached to
to draw me so far beyond
what my reasoning would permit
shit
I'm at home in this unfamiliar feeling
and I have no place to call mine
but a lonely mansion so far away
from that feeling that teaches soft patience..
that comfort feeling that makes me real

I tried so hard not to cut in friday
to find today, that cutting was the right thing
I read people, better than many people I know..
but some people wear false pages
a shuffled word of truth written to false
and pasted over a hundred fold bold
exaggerated frustration..
emancipated proclamation..
of punished matters in life's long struggle.

reminded of deb's plight
and her fierce, fierce might
I carry to the other this image of fright
that is bigger than me, and home for a stronger other

And the words flow.. the words flow from my hands..
in pictures of confined refinement.
What I show I not always know.
Ears never double check such hand sound sight
and eyes can barely grasp a rear view thought
..a negative picture of what is on the hand
and developed alone by those with focused lens.

I went dancing last friday
With a bunch of friends
We were celebrating our friend James
And the time he's spent with us...

James is moving to california
To be a teacher near the warm sandy beaches
He's a good teacher, and a patient man
We'll see him again, I hope..

Kim is an interpreter and a friend
She likes to dance, and dances well
She appears to like to dance with me
Despite that I lead poorly - too tense

Patti is my friend and an interpreter
She doesn't like to dance, she's anti-dance
But she dances well and likes music
Dancers don't dance like me - too silly

I am a student who studies interpreting
I like to dance, it's not standing still
But sometimes it's close to standing still
My eyes glaze when my feet slow

Slow music doesn't make me sad..
Unless I'm dancing.

tonight begins soon when I end this morn
and tomorrow will itself start this arvo
when I wake and watch else other find sweet slumber
in a morn that still and still becomes night

I'm sillied out with Kung-Pow this eve'
for Josh's b'day.. we watched it yet again
and another flick about thumbs wars.. by the same
so many weoweoweowe's and *choke*-ing sounds..

Would it be the same with captions, I think it not
but, perhaps still funny all the same.

Memories swing in and from my mind..
changing view of present times.
Shadows of past with eyes to see..
make my present my history.

My fathers eyes were shaken today..
for the love of a brother was whisked away
His choking tears brought joy's pain to mine
but in our hearts Lord knows we're fine
It felt so good to break love free
and live in raptures fondest memory.

Lewis Blomendal's funeral was today..
He was a very close friend of our family.
Lew always checked up on me.
I don't think I know many other people
That cared that much without excuse
I'm sure he won't stop checking up on me
I think maybe I should mow my lawn
before I hear about it in my prayers. :)

Thank you Lew for looking after me.
Thank you Lew for caring so much.
We will all miss him a great deal.
Until we are with him again.

Tomorrow is the first day of school again this year.
And as usual it's kept me up.

So I'm trying to be productive...
and not just play guitar all night.

But instead, I find myself blogging nonsense..
about not being able to sleep..
..just so I can change the bloody template.

And I'll warn ya right now...
It's some pretty heinous code.

I had some insight in regard to giving gifts.
But I realized that some things are better just kept to oneself.

I had an image that popped in my head.
But sometimes those things are only funny to oneself.

I saw a clue that invoked story memories.
But a story shows itself to it's audience with expectations prejudice.

I had a feeling that overwhelmed my heart.
But it requires insightful response when found on the face.

Then some days, someone says.. "what's really in your head?"
..and in such moments, those thoughts can finally leak out.

I got a letter...
I was surprised to find it in my mailbox on Sunday, I don't ordinarily check the mailbox on Sunday for obvious reasons (no delivery)... and I had already gotten my mail from Saturday, so what compelled me to check on Sunday is beyond comprehension.

All week I'd been listening to a message from some lady on my machine saying that her aunt had recieved a letter addressed to me. She said that she had brought it by when I was not home, and to please call her. I would have, had I known the intrensic value of the letter.

but I found it in my mailbox.. sealed, broken, and resealed. It travelled many miles to find me, and did so in a most peculiar way.

Having found it I was elated. I can't describe it, but it was new. I sat at my porch and I read it, and the words, the handwriting.. it all moved me again in that very same way.

..You're words move me again, Rach..
thank you.

I tend to spend alot of time gathering worries.. without even knowing it.
Until I take some time away from them.

Closing my eyes..
Clearing my eyes of thought.

...
losing focus.
letting myself breathe... no rush.
...
...
feel that?
that's a taste of peace.
can't feast on it, just a nibble..
..such powerful stuff.