the 31st


jarring radical piercing peeling---letting blood less repetitive first person mistakes drained---oh the international crisis swallow choke back flies stress less more distance how can I feel anything---burrow the sparrow hide her--- want to be more than friends---cancel me this time tomorrow I'm good---she didn't answer---and  hate the hole but  sleep with the shovel---gravel fighting flightless navigating careening---powerless, no power less, command, less power---shiver dry cool sweet blue purple hairless tranquil winding down quietly peacefully sink within frail fragmented purposeless purity

Oh well there is a surprise there was a traitor involved  those Spaniards and their dry sense of humor and the Timucuan Indians you wouldn’t think I wrote a novel it’s political did you know? And holly and lichen and shells to recreate created past French forts filtered frames I’m listening very carefully and what ‘s been on my mind? And you’re interested in my mind space and the blue heron was lovely and certainly my favorite brontosauruses don’t exist and the classification system is such a farce but do you like olives? And we are in debt and can you believe how lucky we are this weather is perfect Florida cactus pretty cool, right? And up up UP and round and around and around and back down and straight to my head?

Did some line-dancing....I did.
Hiking in Fort Caroline.
Salsa dancing...and getting better slowly but surely.

fabricating youth


my hair was in the mulch with the mulch
 eyes to the sky
 play ground metal bars compartmentalizing scenes of blue and green wind blew and sand but gently reassuring
 it was if I had to guess one hundred million years ago today

-Lyrics, One Republic

That sense of  weight  pounds and thick damp suffocating
shoulders burdened brooding bothersome real world extravaganzas
homeless powerless frightened dimly glowing beams of mediocrity
and no potential for residential opportunities to reflect deflect and reject
they don't know
the absurdity  calamity  excessive wasteland of pools of conscious potential
residing on another planet across the ocean from them
because that kind of guilt
is reserved
for the indulgent absolutely  inaccessible   privileged minority of overwhelmed undernourished
where the hell is my coffee?   it's been a good five minutes
let me tweet about this
inexcusable absentmindedness
'Looks like I'm going to be late for work again!'
Got in to a PhD program in Philosophy with a fellowship nomination.
Got up on a stage and performed spoken-word poetry.
Adopted a new addition to my family: Izzy the busy bear.
Not so sure you would have understood
any other way you would
ecstatic   diplomatic   untouchable   ephemeral
top of my game       ostensibly different     essentially  same
and free Free FREE at last
aren't you proud of me
can't you see
it's exactly
how we said it should be

Lyrics, Red Hot Chili Peppers

Bad news, world!

Would love to continue the tragic tale of Hans Bobenstein, buttttttt….

there’s a new dog in town, bois, whaaaa ?!?!?

Her name is Israel (Izzy for short) and she is the cutest thing to happen to my house since Tamica moved in.

She is also proof-positive that I would make an abomination of a mother. Don’t get me wrong, I treat Baby Girl like the princess that she is–showering her with attention, love, gifts, and all of Bobo’s things! She is too freak’n cute and no matter how bad she is being, she is being too freak’n adorable to be poo-poo’d with any wise words of discipline…

She is hybrid wolf/siberian huskey/retriever mix with one blue eye and one hazel/green/gray brown eye. Okay, I’m doting again, enough about my lil Baby Girl—why am I destined to be a horrendous mother?

It’s Bobo-man. What can I say, he’s just old news, y’know, and he knows it. It’s like I keep forgetting he even exists…and I can’t help it, I swear. To be fair, this is precisely analogous to having a new born baby and forgetting your first born still needs to be fed…because they still technically exist…again,  not proud. I can’t help it. So yeah, Part II, let’s see.. Bobo is pretentious, Bobo loves males (giant black labs, preferably), Bobo’s two emotional extremities: condescension and contempt, his attitude swings fairly consistently between these two extremes of a pendulum of emotional instability, Bobo thinks dogs are petty, and he sheds his body weight in hair three times per standard 365-day calender year…blah blah blah, yadda yadda…Bobo who?!? Am I right or am I right?!

Stay tuned for Izzy the Bizzy lil’ Bee–aaauu-ttiiiful Baby Girl!! I know I will.