So this is how we are rendered. One step at a time, beginning small, ever so slightly, cautious in our understanding, yet boistrous in our calling. Stepping onto ground that was never there.

I feel at times to look out on a small landscape, as far as my eye may turn, losing nothing in the spinning of myself. I feel like though the summits are close, just within reach, the scope is large beyond reason, my whys and whynots carrying me to that place beyond the end of the tips of my fingers. And within that gaze, I see so much, so small, the tiniest of spots, expansive to my emotions, and infinite in impact so clearly disembled before me.

Blue veracity, my childish understanding of my flesh and my blood. Skattered disention from unanswered sobs contract in my hips and and release in my chest, losing in my glimpses and moments one word said and one word forgotten holding a key to my skin, my core.

Those moments on my horizon, from there until here, are lost to me. How did I make it here? I point at one and then point at another before I realize they have pointed at me and grasping my hands pull me in two. From there to here, now til gone, life unto death.

I feel that I am looking back on shades of myself, small vignettes of poses and parts, tumbling down before my eyes, gathering in my hands like fallen leaves. Lay me down...

Now, becoming and living, lost to no one, yet gone from there, leaving my blood behind, hollow and lost, just wondering wandering, and gathering bits of life to fill myself back up. How long may I be a vessel, and how much may I let that guide that part of me.

Now must I seek my serenity, loose the profanity of my bones, and my forever counting scars, the obscenity of my body. I must let it fall from me like rain, sheding light and dark, the blood and semen smeared from my skin. Let me pass through that portal, let me always look forward. Beyond this and the gazes of my eyes, may I find the source of light that has guided my wayward step, has led me through silence and sound, the black and my self. I feel it, I hear it so faintly, may I touch it...


Lord make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
And where there is sadness, joy.

O divine master grant that I may
not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love
For it is in giving that we receive-
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.

 
Am I truly rendered. Can there be no justice to the construction of my name? Or maybe that is it, that I do not understand my name, or the essence of justice. Maybe this is my justice, due my name, something that in the greater equation was just meant to occur, was meant or destined to be. Can I really escape, or must I first carve in stone, my understanding, my secret knowing, before the buds can bloom? Will I then be ok? Lying to yourself will not make the lies to others, their own truths.

 
so this is how it is, i fly of the handle and i try reaching into the black box that truly encompasses all that i hold dear all that i hope for and all that i seem to be striving for, even subconciously, and i am so suprised when i draw back shredded paper, bloody hands and grasshopper wings. such a suprise. i feel distended, drawn out like dew on a taut string. i pray that i can gather all my little proclivities and prayers before the sun sets and i'll horde them in my skin like deposits of stardust against the impending night. blah blah blah, just end already...

 
So here it is my little lieblings, my idea for the day. When in doubt or all alone, spend money to make yourself feel wanted and needed. This is best to do when the idea that there might not be enough money in your account to cover said purchases is highest in order to increase the giddy feeling one gets when one does something that they are told they shouldn't. Sooooo much funnnn!!!! Don't leer....

 
I cherish each little glimpse you allow, that you let slip, that you impart. It gives me a sense of dreaming, a sense of grounding, a sense othat I could walk forever with you and still find a new you around the corner. Please, never allow the doors to shut, never turn your back forever, and in return I will never break your trust, I will never turn my head and walk away, I will never hurt. Simple yet immense promises. But not one's that if you really cared, if you really knew, could ever be impossible.

 
Your glass looks empty. And it's a hell of a long way home. Why don't you let me take you,'cause it's no good to go alone. I never would have opened up but you seem so real to me, I guess I can't help it. After all the bullshit I've heard it's refreshing not to see it. I don't have to pretend, you don't expect it from me. I can tell it's not the wind that cracked your shoulder and threw you to the ground. Who's there that makes you so afraid? You're shaken to the bone. I don't understand, but I know, you deserve so much more than that. You deserve that love too. Don't believe I haven't been good to you. Don't say I haven't been there for you. Tell me what is good enough and just let me try and I will be good to you. Let me try and I will be there for you. I'll show you how you're so much more than good enough.

 
So yeah, you can call all this written in this Blog drivel, schmutzig, kvetch, or any other inadequate description. I think it myself. Anyways, I had an interesting day. It was the first time all year that I missed Technique class and I didn't feel as guilty about it as I probably should have. I actually felt worse about Ian missing his class, even though it ended up out of both our hands in the end anyways. So we roamed the campus as BYU, (what a hellish place), and I had a little abstract synthesis with the boyrfriend in a bathroom in some building on their campus. I enjoyed it really, though my neck kinda hurts and I know he would have preffered it by himself, and probably just invited me in because I looked like I felt left out. Anyways, I liked doing it and what is done is done and we must all move on. Now the adventure is over and I am glad to be home(?) and back on schedule. Oh and I really don't want to go to rehearsal for Holly's piece. I'd actually rather eat paint chips and clean the sink with my tongue. And while we are discussing sore subjects, I didn't make it into PDC. So I really suck. So what.
Sweet dreams to Mien Liebling.