depth of field

"and they lived in an old apartment

with an old boa constrictor named Ted who slept in a cage by the window.

there was a mattress and a clock on the wall that was once grandmother's before she passed."



this is the phrase to which I awoke this morning in my mind. odd? yes.

I got some blades, rollerblades and they make me want to read books about birds. I don't know why. odd? yes.


These two odd thoughts define this morning and if all things go as they usually do, in sets of three, I will have one more odd thought before lunch.

Ironically, I am still thinking about what I was thinking about what I was thinking about thinking about...

six years ago.

And the fact that it has in fact remained factually factual means that...

I was not ready, nor reading, nor readable, but listening

has become the licentious licensed agreement between the mind and body.

I only wish I had played a part in this magical feast!


I'm communicating, yes, in fragmentation. Well, a year has passed since the last fourth of July and I cannot contemplate how odd this year's sense of time seems to have taken upon itself. Learning such difficult lessons, humbled tremendously in my own values and trajectories and decisions. A year since R and I combed the beach together, almost since my first surfing lesson on that fateful Monday morning.

It is yes, that things happen, these moments of momentous molecular substance that pass as if a seed blown about in the wind. Then, months, years, decades post, there is fragment of clarity caught in a succession of words, or an admittance, or a confession, or I am standing a top a hilly hill and looking down into a valley and I see a red wagon and in this red wagon is a pile of sticks and we are going to build a fire and something clicks.

It is the realization of:

a friend not a friend,
a friend as a lover
a place as ancestral
a pursuit as achievable
an act as necessity
a conversation of clairvoyance


and so....i am still thinking about:::
philosophy
and the west as enlightenment
and observation
and performance
and movement (geographical, molecular, individual, social, spacial)


all this to be said, things are becoming more clear. Those who are friends are remaining friends and the self imposed goals are becoming still clearer. That the self imposed limitations die when you push hard enough. And those odd messages I followed that were so externally unclear but so delicately and internally driven, are leading me to pursue my life within my life and become what it is, who it is, that exists internally as an externally exhibit of this. And so looking in the mirror, will not see such a foreign body, but my body, this body, the one that wants to:::

surf
climb
walk
run
bike
write
burn

all over the earth, in every way, with canvas and parked cars and dust and bones and deserts

and nothing that matters as matter but mad as a hatter

relying not on another but the self
as the self
with the self
by the self
into the self
upwards towards the self
within the self
self as self
the selfdom as the self





the kittens are napping
i live in a cave
the cave is a womb
and in it, I am forming

what has always been...

like the first flutter of eyes between two
coming down the stairs in September


etcetera
etcetera
etcetera









K