It's been a while since I've made any communication with this site... I've been uprooted and as a foreseen result been forced into alienation. This room is not my room anymore than four walls can contain a fire. I am not home yet. Not at home between the carrying of bits the roof may have been. Without you it's not at all worth any bit. I carry matches in case; and burrow wildly for the chance.

i am awash in it

moving on

Beatriz and I dropped off the deposit check this morning.. it's only a week until we are supposed to move in.. I'm feeling a lot more positive about the whole thing now that most of the financial stress is done with. Also, in packing up everything in our living room it seems that the task of moving may not be as herculean as I'd first imagined. Although, the piano may have to become a permanent fixture...

My aunt gave Beatriz and I a check for festivus that I intend to put toward starter plants.. I'm hoping I can still get some variety this late into winter. If not, I'll have to see what I can do about spawning some veggies from the grocery store. I'm hoping to be able to grow garlic, green onion, and some variety of pepper for starters... I'll need to have my mother impart some of her green thumb wisdom...

your life in a cardboard box.

Beatriz and I have begun packing all of our belongings... it's an uncomfortable task. To see who you are through the things you've held onto and be forced into recalling the memories of inanimate objects. In the process of packing we're setting aside as much as possible to give away or donate.. but it's a troubling sort of endeavor when you must play triage with your memories. Books are the hardest for me.. they've always seemed to carry with them an individual spirit, an entirely unique smell that's capable of transporting you to when you first gripped their bindings... like time in a bottle.

I've been doing alright by it though I suppose... I can't justify owning multiple copies of the same books after all. I only hope I'm as successful with my other anchors.

New house

So..... our application was approved.. and we've given our 30 days to our current landlord... now however comes the incredibly stressful task of figuring out how to pay for everything. I'm leaving myself very little wiggle room in regard to finances and I've never been comfortable with not having an exit strategy. I'm filled with too many mixed emotions. Unfortunately as of now, the stress and anxiety over paying and over how to actually move everything is outweighing any sort of excitement. I'm mostly feeling unsure on whether or not this is the right decision. I know that I'll be better off emotionally and mentally with more space to breathe; and in a place that isn't crumbling around me... but at the same time I worry about handling everything myself... I worry about where this decision will leave me financially and how long it will take to recover.

I just feel like I need to do this to convince myself it's possible.. I've been stuck in the house I'm in feeling fearful about disrupting the stability with any major changes.. and feel like that fear is so strong it's clouding my ability to even imagine moving on to wherever it is I need to be next... I can't see through the uncertainty with bravery.

I had prepared myself to move several years ago.. I had all but packed when plans changed.. I think it's left me wounded in regard to feeling like I have what it takes to pick up and leave. So to move even across town may be all it takes to rid me of the fear of change. To rid me of feeling like I need to grip tightly onto whatever stability I can find regardless of the conditions. I'm hopeful of this at least... but clouded by doubt and anxiety...

experiments in inspiration

so you want to be a writer?
by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don't do it.
if you're doing it for money or
fame,
don't do it.
if you're doing it because you want
women in your bed,
don't do it.
if you have to sit there and
rewrite it again and again,
don't do it.
if it's hard work just thinking about doing it,
don't do it.
if you're trying to write like somebody
else,
forget about it.
if you have to wait for it to roar out of
you,
then wait patiently.
if it never does roar out of you,
do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.

don't be like so many writers,
don't be like so many thousands of
people who call themselves writers,
don't be dull and boring and
pretentious, don't be consumed with self-
love.
the libraries of the world have
yawned themselves to
sleep
over your kind.
don't add to that.
don't do it.
unless it comes out of
your soul like a rocket,
unless being still would
drive you to madness or
suicide or murder,
don't do it.
unless the sun inside you is
burning your gut,
don't do it.

when it is truly time,
and if you have been chosen,
it will do it by
itself and it will keep on doing it
until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.





I've read this poem a hundred times at various points in my life with the practice in mind of applying the logic within it towards how I write, and how I attempt to write. I've read it when I've been unable to stop writing, and when I can't seem to utter a word. I've viewed it as an accusation against my processes and products, and as a rallying cry of heading in the right direction. I feel though my problems with writing are not about writing at all, but about reading. I've fallen out of the habit of reading. In this way, I am not unlike a painter with too little paint. I have no new ideas, no new words, no life at all to put onto paper.

Need to get the hell out of here.

So since we've gotten back, we've reached the final straw in our relationship with our house. A pipe had apparently been leaking for upwards of a month in our bathroom. The situation was only exacerbated by having the bathroom door shut for nearly the entire time we were away on vacation due to a need to separate our cats. The stagnant air and the fact that the pipe in question was hot water made the perfect breeding environment for mold. So underneath our tub within the cabinetry was a massive amount of mold and general water damage. Being that we've had major issues getting anything fixed in a timely manner we pretty well made up our minds to get out as soon as possible.

Bea and I submitted an application to rent our friend's old house and are hopeful to hear something within the next couple of days. I'm trying not to get overly excited about the potential of getting into it, but it's rather hard not to fantasize about it. I'm most excited about the prospect of the green house room. I think that it would be amazing and cathartic to be able to garden. The inside of our current house is too dark to support any plant life, and the soil in the backyard is too bleached by the proximity to a creak to support anything but weeds. After visiting my sister and seeing how easily things grow there, I was quite jealous of the luxury of fresh herbs. And with a greenhouse I'd actually be able to have a small vegetable garden.

I went back to work today and have to say I've actually missed it quite a bit. Also, it was nice to know that everything has been moderately quiet, so I haven't really missed anything. It's a strange time to be working at a college, everything is deserted so to speak, and it feels a bit like ghostland.

eros

cosmonaut aspirations