Guess What

is playing at the magic lantern?

Are The Bones Of My Sins

Sharp enough
to cut thru my
excuses?

Maybe baby you don't

So, recently I have been thinking about things "I have never eaten a persimmon." for as long as I can remember, I have know Persimmons were a fruit that had to be ripe to eat. But I have never eaten one and had no idea how to eat one or to know if one was ripe. So, in the interest in expanding my palate to include things like Persimmons, Chesnuts, Parsnips etc I will soon be eating my first Persimmon.

http://www.wikihow.com/Eat-a-Persimmon

Now I see myself completly someone else

You know it is really kind of sad. I have been trying to think about the last time I really trully enjoyed a Christmas. A time, any time when I haven't been affected by some sort of deep and hollow sadness. Don't get me wrong, there have been times when I have been absolutely happy. Some more easily remembered than others butI have been on a search, kind of a personal journey so to speak to find out were this overwellming sadness comes from. I have yet to find the source but I do have several ideas... Anyway, these moods have always sort of rode the holidays or any other special event (I don't recall even a trip to the fair that ended well) one might spend with family or friends. It is kind of strange that most of the time I am just blissfully unaware then out of the blue it just hits me.

The ladder of the day I was born...

Her White wings trailing blood, Matt Hansen December 2007

Strange form of life

All I ever get for Christmas
When I was drinking
I gotta have you
I often dream of trains
Truly, Madly, Deeply
Falling slowly
Hell no
In the bleak midwinter
Deadman
They need you if they think you love them

What Lips My Lips Have Kissed

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply;
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in the winter stands a lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet know its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone;
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Your death is always with you and it is the most attractive part of you. When people tell you they love your eyes, Or the way you walk, It is your mortality they're seeing.

Paul Williams

"How Am I Not Myself?"

More joy.
Taking the form of water.
Coming in over my sliding glass door.
I don't really have much to say.
Except.
Tryng to find a leak at 10pm in the wind and the rain and the dark is miserable.
I guess I have a wall to take out.

The search continues.