Stray Writings

(XXVIII)

(12/11/08)

Here’s what it is:
There really is something to be said about the spirit of people, how it can open us up from confinement and makes us feel the air around us and understand, that yes, we are in fact still alive. We can see in them a reason to open up, to be ourselves and in fact be with them.
Even when people are speaking, it is silent. Silence is more complicated than sound.

To be back in a place with positive ramifications and reasons and beliefs that make me open up, this is a cause to rejoice. Sure, I’m not sure I have a place to live. I have no job as of yet. My money dwindles. And yet, on a cold Thursday night, I look towards the romantic because even romantic can be natural.

The empty spaces to our left and right are ghosts. We remember when they were occupied by people we wanted to touch or to touch us. Their rememberance haunts our sleep and warms our day.

The symetrical nature of this city is what is so astounding. The bricks paint one line while riding the street. The streets wait as if keeping a secret and whisper instructions while holding back laughter. I love to walk alone in these streets and listen for the smooth voice of the city. It soothes me, even in this cold.

Why do we know the love of our life and sit on our hands? Again, silence complicates our intention; or perhaps it enlightens the tense withdraw.

I kind of want to play guitar and I think I will here in a few. Guitar soothes my head and calluses my finger…just, oh just, like the lone.

Did you ever know everything in the world and then turn over and go back to sleep?

I find grace in the oddest moments. There are different stains on the ground of EL cars and they meet at lines that distinguish between dark and light.

Tomorrow is Justus. Do you know what this means? This means a resumption of what I’ve always believed in, played out in the most beautiful place…3900 N.

I’m so tired of needing and thinking and remembering and other human aspects that I apply to the same cause over and over and over again as if there will be some sort of different result the next time I apply myself, as if it is just waiting for the perfect and simple effort from me…as if I can control the reaction. It makes me tired; so, so tired.

So, I am back and I am feeling the ground and I am touching the sky. Here, I fear and when I am away I think I don’t need it. But I am wrong. I need it like I need progress and forward movement, thick constants of evolution.

This city evolves before my eyes…even when my eyes are closed.

Did you know that I studied your smile tonight? It is so subtle, like a ticking clock. I’m glad I know it.

The word create is sexy…like a beautiful woman in glasses.

Kevin Crispin

What do you think is up to my right in the picture? A cob web? Probably a cob web. Or maybe it’s my Beatles records on top of my air conditioner. It’s certainly not fresh, new wainscoting.


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