25.

1. When I was six years old, i broke each of my arms within six weeks of one another. I broke my left first falling from the second story of bunk bed during the evening news. then, several weeks later I was chasing a cousin down the sidewalk and my sandal caught a crack. this led to the shattering of my right wrist. i only had two casts on for a few days. This event however directly led to me being ambidextrous. i throw a baseball, eat, and do a number of other things right handed. with my left hand i shoot a basketball and write.

2. I had my first kiss inside of a tractor wheel on a rural farm when i was four years old. I was so proud I told everyone in sunday school the following week, making "my other half" at the time turn bright red and run crying from the room.

3. When I construct a salad it consists solely of tomatoes, cucumbers and shredded cheese.

4. I immensely enjoy washing dishes. the smell of a dish room will always remind me of carefree days with john, anton, ship, jon, dane, arturo, cody, jew, chill, derek, tonna, hols and all of the rest of the crew at george's.

5. I love making plans, but hate following my own directions and decisions. This has led to many brilliant and healthful ideas gone to waste, and many quick fixes coming into play throughout my life.

6. When I have written music in the past, I have had experiences where I have felt truly connected with people. The energy that can flow between friends to construct melodies and keep things in time with no discussion or previous practice is one of the realest things i have ever felt. nothing will ever replace the days on the grounds of the bravo hotel with john, dustin, mike, fatty, and daniel.

7. I have had a reoccurring dream for as long as I can recall about the Wicked Witch of the West. In the dream she has me and an assortment of other individuals sitting in East Park right by the steeping stones on the gazebo side. I attempt to kick her into the pond. When I succeed she doesn't melt, and is just very angry. I always wake up at that same point. I have always wondered how everything will turn out.

8. The first time I ever went to Colorado was on a mission trip. My entire family went along. I did my best to ruin the trip for everyone. We played a game in small group one night were we were asked to put things that were important to us on note cards. Then we were told to discard ever so often until eventually my cheeks were soaked with tears as I killed off my own mother with her in front of my eyes. That experience has greatly influenced my life.

9. Every girl I have ever fallen in love with has actually had a "song." With Caroline, it was "I'll Catch You" by the Get Up Kids. With Hannah it is "Do You Remember" by Jack Johnson (or possibly "9 Crimes" by Damien Rice depending on the day). For Nicole it was "Konstantine" by Something Corporate. I let music narrate my life.

10. There was a night two years ago where I packed a pair of scissors into my sleeve and came seconds away from stabbing Ship in the throat. Our friendship eventually recovered.

11. I once called a girl I was infatuated with during a fight. the telephone was answered, and I promptly began to give a very stringent verbal lashing. I eventually finished, and was met by several seconds of silence before a response. When it came it went a little something like this:

"Would you like to speak to Rachel? This is her mother."

I decided to hang up with my cheeks flushed red.

12. I hate having short hair, but whenever I grow it out, it looks really terrible. I always end up cutting it off before it actually gets long enough to be considered long.

13. There was a night when I was sixteen that I stole a razor from work and then cut myself when I got home until I passed out from blood loss. I woke up in the morning. Luckily.

14. For my 18th birthday Caroline and Taylor got me a cake. Nick and I had been in Centerville at a baseball game, and when we returned, they had us meet them in the park. It was a good time for awhile. Then, Caroline took her index finger and rubbed some frosting on my face. I had quite a temper in those days, so I picked up what was remaining of the sheet cake and hit her in the face with it. She cried, but not because it hurt. She cried because I got frosting in her hair.

15. The number of concerts I have attended outweighs how many bands many of the people in my life have ever listened to.

16. In the eighth grade I went through a phase where I thought I was hood. At the time I was living in the Parkview subdivision of Pella, Iowa. I listened to 50 Cent's debut album, "Get Rich or Die Tryin" for the vast majority of everyday. I also had a brief career during this time as an aspiring rap artist. I failed at launching a multiplatinum run, but I did gain some great free style skills that I still hold onto today.

17. I am a hopeless romantic who is terrible at being in relationships. I have been known in the past to pick fights with significant others, just because I enjoyed having to think up some gesture that would get me back into her good graces. Now, I just forget the fights and bring girls flowers at work for fun. That's all I really want out of a relationship, someone to bring flowers to.

18. I can't remember the names (or how many) of all the girls I have kissed.

19. When I was a child I had a competitive artistic rivalry with Chad Brunsvold. He was always better than I was, which made me draw all the time in an attempt to catch up. When I moved away from Mason City in second grade, he gave me a picture he had drawn of a football player. It was awesome, well, at least for a second grader. I still draw most days, but I vary rarely show anyone my drawings because I have never seen myself as good at it.

20. The first CD I ever bought with my own money was SmashMouth's "AstroLounge." In hindsight it was a poor decision, mainly because I only bought it because Colin Boswell had it, and we spent everyday listening to it. Seeing as Colin and I spent every waking moment with each other playing THPS, watching MTV's Undressed, and spraying hornet's nests with SuperSoakers, it made no sense to have two copies.

21. I have attended church every sunday that I have been in Mason City for the last six months since moving back.

22. I once met a girl in math class on the first day of school, struck up a conversation with her, followed her across campus to the dorms trying to continue the conversation. I had made up my mind that she was going to fall in love with me. I have come to find out that she hated me that day. However, I was right that she would fall in love with me, eventually.

23. Through my junior year of high school I never thought that I would ever have a real friend. Since then, I have had many fulfilling relationships in my life, and I had many good friends before then as well. I never noticed that people cared about me, and I still often times feel super distant in relationships that many would consider close. I'm a stray dog, I'm a lone wolf, I can't help it. I love being alone, and I love spending time with myself.

24. One night during the Summer of 2007 I attempted to blow a port-a-potty to smithereens with Michael McMartin, the Sherminator, and Brandt. We went out to a boat ramp at the lake and stuffed the makeshift toilet with fireworks. It did not explode, however, it did make a lot of noise and smoke.

25. I someday hope to have a large tank (but not too large) filled with turtles that swim around and hangout with each other all day.

inelegant.

you should really just forget it.

you really don't have any idea.

to be quite honest, i always had you on string.

i got bored.

you didn't bring anything out inside of me.

maybe apathy.

it was never that good. you have over dramatized everything in your head.

quit wanting to be in love. i will honestly never care. at all.

stop thinking about me. i really am indifferent.

quit wasting both words and time on the subject of your broken heart.

people are tired of hearing your whining.

there is no need to try and catch my attention. i already told you goodbye.

you are behind me, and will always be invisible to me.

if you honestly think any of this makes you more dear to me, you couldn't be more wrong.

every time i am bothered by you in your small ways, i just can't wait until you aren't around anymore.

quit spreading rumors, especially when you are the most biased person to the situation.

you are fox news, just talking bullshit that people turn on to get a few laughs during times of extreme boredom.

i would hate you, if i cared at all. i just can't.

i never cared about you. that's why things ended.

i am not selfish enough to stay with someone that i have no real feelings for.

we were only friends out of circumstance, in my normal circles, we never would have crossed paths.

when i was here before i only talked to you out of desperation for conversation.

i never once called you then. i didn't even bother to get your number.

i know you will read this, because you can't keep your nose out of my life.

you will tell everyone how terrible i am.

it's really not true. you just can't seem to get the point.

we aren't in the same league. where i am from, you wouldn't have ever had the courage to talk to me.

i forgot that this fall.

i was bored.

i was out of ambition.

i was ready to settle for something that would be okay.

it was worse than that.

you have no idea. i let you go because i didn't want to hold on to just break your heart in worse ways.

for some reason you couldn't understand that.

i never wanted to see you hurt, i just couldn't be with you.

if you keep causing me headaches, you will see how terrible i can really be.

i don't want you to ever be a part of my life, and i never really cared that were.

so, please kindly fuck off.

p.s. your writing is forced and inelegant.

raced a train.

tonight we raced a train.

he looked over at me and said, "do you think we will make it?"

i looked back, lifting my arm to the handle above the window, "i have no idea man, it will be close."

he absent mindedly flicked the lighter in his hand and said, "we are going to find out. i'm serious. are you ready to find out if we will make it?"

i looked out the window, carefully measuring the approaching train against the impending railway crossing. thoughts flashed across my mind. i checked down everything that could matter. it didn't look like we would make it, even if he accelerated a great deal.

i continued to search through my mind for reasons to tell him to stop, to scream at him to slow down, or to jerk the wheel and cause a slightly less fatal accident.

i looked over and he was staring at me as he banked the car right through an intersection, propelling us in the direction of the train. he didn't accelerate out of the turn, he just kept up our previous speed, edging closer and closer to the train.

i composed myself and answered him calmly, "go for it."

in that moment i was okay with being smashed by several tons of quickly moving locomotive. i've lived a good life, and if that's how it was going to end, i suppose it would have.

he turned and looked at me, easing on the break about fifty meters from the train. "what do you think i am, fucking crazy?"

i just sat and smiled to myself.

lost my head.

i don't feel much of anything anymore,
of that much i have become certain.
all the days have become smeared, heavy glass privacy blocks in a bathroom mirror.
you see, with the post winter christmas blues sweeping through the population, there is little variation left inside these hallow weeks.
i keep turning over a concept in my mind.
i keep wanting to put a ring on her finger.
that idea is terrible.
she would never be faithful. she would never be anything more than she is now.
a distant dream, an accomplished goal, a helpless failure.
i still think about it several times everyday.
carefully plotting finances just in case she changes my mind.
she really doesn't need to, every second i spend with her, i would do it in an instant.
her words always convey it with a breath of fantasy.
"we should run away and get married."
i would call you dear, you would call me darling and we would forget our names.
there would be a house, and a puppy, and a garden that would turn to mush when the rains wash the earth in the early spring.
i would do repairs on the house and cars, you would patronize the children.
in the morning i could wear a suit and sip my coffee before i stagger out the door into the sunlight.
then i would find out the truth, the same way i always have.
women's whispers and men's hard glances; both screaming "how does he not notice?"
i do notice though.
that is why marrying her would be a terrible idea.
however, that's really all my mind keeps contemplating.
"once you lose trust, you lose sincerity."
that is true for her, false for me.
that's why i get caught up in it. i could never lie to her. if i did every time i saw her my cheeks would burn red with guilt.
i bite at her words hungrily. any conversation carefully digested and reworked over a thousand hours.
my alarm clock hasn't been working.
it's okay though, i haven't been sleeping. i haven't been doing anything as far as i remember.
just living out someone else's life from a few feet above the ground.
i really don't want anything at this exact moment. here are the things i can immediately dismiss: cigarettes, sleep, coffee, oatmeal, ice cream, any other food product, hours in front of the television, a good book, a 40 oz. bud heavy, new music, company, to be alone, and anything else that has come to my mind in the last hour.
i am restless, but not like i used to be. i need the open road, but right now it sounds unwelcoming.
sometimes, when i really run through all the options of what is going on, what will be going on, and what will happen to me possibly in future, i really don't want anything.
i guess i would enjoy some rest. however, sleep does not sound appealing.
i have been waking up more tired than i was when i feel asleep as of late.
by rest i mean that i would love to be able to spend every waking and unwaking moment for the rest of my time in a hammock, partially shaded, alone with my thoughts.
that is all i could really enjoy right now.
the lack of sun in these winter months has been making me feel artificial.
more machine than man in a sense i suppose.
everything organic fades away.
life is a series of artificial light, processed food, and manufactured climate conditions.
no man would survive this upper midwestern winter on his own.
that's why everyone loses their head inside the winter months.
we are all supposed to be dead in this climate, and our bodies know it. go lay face down in the snow for three hours if you don't believe me.
it's getting harder to care at all. about anything.
i hope the morning finds me in better spirits. it will not.
i hope the night takes it easy on me for once. too many thoughts circling my head.
i need an out. i need a change.
like a new form. a new life as something else.
i want to be the grain dancing in the wind on the hillside.
i want to be the tallest pine in the rocky mountain sunshine.
i want something.
however, as i pace my thoughts again, i want nothing.
i've lost my head.

bad guy.

growing up i was always infatuated with the bad guy. through the many cinematic adventures of my youth, i was always slightly ashamed of my unabashed love of the evil doer in any plot. the villain always got better girls, better cars, better lives. i mean, honestly, yoda lived in an acidic swamp while darth vader was tooling around the galaxy demolishing entire planets from his death star.

that's where it all must have started. i tried to emulate "the cool." i painted myself all sorts of villains. a rebel with a cigarette and a white v-neck, constantly mumbling negative words to cover up the lack of meaning in any of it. a boy posed as a hard living man with a three days beard and a flannel shirt.

i never played a very convincing bad guy, always a little to friendly, always a little to kind hearted in the end. i guess i always will. all i really want anymore is to believe. lately i have been better about it.

the last week has been something of great cinematic writing. a family framed in an upstairs apartment as the television painted the walls around you and i. there was another smaller hand clasped around my finger, there was a third head resting on your shoulder. we slow danced a day later. quietly, wrapped in the thought of each other as an old soul singer whispered your name through the speakers.

now, i will play the devil while i forget advocacy all together. as long as you don't love me with all of you, i will never be your knight in shining armor. as long as this doesn't change i will always be the bad guy to everyone i know.

so, now as always, say goodnight to the bad guy.

modern science.

the chemical reactions that i can feel taking place throughout my veins are making me think of modern science. as the waste and bitterness of the previous evening is sifted from my system through my liver, my mind focuses on a simple thought: "i am the master of a smaller universe." see, each person is comprised of cells. cells are built from molecules. everything in reality is composed of atoms. couldn't we all just be atoms in some much larger structure? there are great dust storms in my lungs, complete with huge billowing towers of black smoke. there are great rainy seasons inside my sneakers as i walk through the north iowa winter to my classrooms and social engagements. i can cause fluctuations in environments hidden just beneath my skin through the willful consumption of certain chemicals. i can create an earthquake in my stomach by devouring a fat burger and extra cheese fries. you see, we are all the gods of our own smaller ecosystems. furthermore, couldn't we all be conscious parts of an even larger body? we live in a small cell where we are all function to improve and maintain a limited environment. maybe when we die we realize that earth is just a red blood cell floating in a larger environment, the sun only a crusading antibody in our vicinity. someday, space exploration will break through the skin and carry us into the larger world. a real world. a place where the sears tower could fit on a pin point. anyway, i am going to go raise the pollution levels in the lake surrounding my thoughts before the fish can repopulate and ruin my train of thought.

oil slick.

today should be good. i feel like anything resembling a failure can't stick to me. i have become far to chemical and slippery. i'm an oil slick in the center of the ocean, either light me on fire or let me go. as of late i have been drifting, a point of light that dances on the northern sky before a fleeting moment passes the onlooker by. i appear in my old haunts as a ghost, and many appear startled at the sight of my face. i immensely enjoy this. i guess that is the lesson i am learning in life, that i am really no one. i never really will be anyone. no fame or fortune will rest on my doorstep, just the comfortable camouflage of obscurity. i will not die a martyr, i will not die a glorified criminal. i will die a thief in the gutter, i will die a vagrant in the night. there are no obituaries for the curious wanderer. there are no funerals for long lost boys. no responsibilities, no problems. just years to go and no faces to know.

listening to -

"free fallin'" - john mayer (where the light is: live in los angeles)

"here it goes" - jimmy eat world (chase this light)

"suddenly everything has changed" - the postal service (the district sleeps alone ep)

"we always rewind the best part" - this day and age (always leave the ground)

"consequence" - the notwist (neon golden)

"blood bleeds" - the helio sequence (love and distance)

"the good that won't come out" - rilo kiley (the execution of all things)

the same things.

i'm so tired of writing the same things over and over again. the same words and scenarios strained through a net of similar words and metaphors. everyday i either am filled with hope or completely lost to despair. my words are drenched in sadness and disillusionment or filled with radiant perspective. in a matter of hours i often go from a lost boy in a strange mystical world to a pompous young man who feels the grains of the earth within his hands. i'm so unsure. the globe gazette, the local paper here, laid off several writers today. one of them was the sports editor. he is a kind man with a great personality who is raising two kids. also, professionally, he has been a success. a well composed and reliable writer will be vacant from his desk tomorrow morning at the downtown office of the river city publication. all of this paid no factor in corporate budget cuts, and now he must find a new means of support for his family. i am becoming disillusioned with the newspaper business. the cold harshness of a culture where it is acceptable to cut the learned and talented in favor of the younger, cheaper alternative is a daunting menace. in a society where growth is punished, the only future will lie in ruin. in a business, there is little common sense in favoring an economic standard over a strong resume and years of experience. however, that is the reality, and things are only going to get progressively worse in a paper print business living in the digital age. this all is making me wonder how worthwhile my education will be when all is said and done. i can live the rest of my life on the hourly wage, but i can not ask a family to live off that. tonight, i am curious. i feel like a child who has wandered too far from his mother in a bustling department store. every orb of light is a distant star, every passing house wife has become a foreign invader. i want to speak their tongues, i want to shake their hands. i want to explore the previously unseen, the images created in my mind from grand story telling and literary valour. some nights, i sit in bed and pretend that all the tall tales about a greater america are true. sometimes, i need to.

spin and flail.

we met inside a weathered hall
one where boys would spin and flail
the time was kept by the drummers step
when melody painted the walls

now we collide in modern time
we watch the spin and turn
thinking of days with second chances
when we knew what it was to burn

our nerves have been shot
the days have worn thin
but we still meet in the weathered hall
for we are the bearers
the one's who remember
when we once stood so tall

HEY LAUREN!

please write more often. i understand that you write all the time, but the days are long and i am bored with everything else. if you were to post more often, then i would have something to do besides reread your posts over and over again. well, i still would, it would just be more time consuming.

a few seconds.

today is a day filled with hope as sunlight pours through my office window. my fingers are soaked in warmth as the race across the keys to compose my thoughts. john and fatty are headed to the west coast permanently. it just gives me an excuse to head out there more often, wherever they rest their bones i will always have a home. they are my brothers through bonds forged from hours spent and secrets kept. i hate to see them so distant, however, in the end, it is for the best. with a looming semester on the eastern seaboard, and my truest brothers headed to the west, my plans will have to become more concrete. my shoulders must be more resolute. come fall this state will be empty. all the lost travelers will have evaded it's grasp, and all the lost boys will have grown up. this winter is our last night in the nursery. with the spring comes the hard choices, hard whiskey, hard women. at least i would like to think so. oh, and last night, something happened that i didn't think would ever happen again. i kissed a girl. i kissed that girl. well, in all reality, she kissed me. i was caught off guard. i felt alive for a few seconds. then i slipped into confusion. spring is on the cusp of breaking. get ready.

listening to -

"belief" - john mayer (continuum)

"we're at the top of the world" - juliana theory (emotion is dead)

midnight ghost.

two boys are headed for the coast
one girl a few doors away
and here i sit, a midnight ghost
with all the wrong words to say

in that indian summer so long ago
we ran through those wild tall grasses
when the stars hung low, the moon bright shone
we all had a toast in our glasses

two boys are headed for the coast
one girl is a few doors away
and here i sit, a midnight ghost
with all the wrong words to say

she's quick to correct a wayward word
but short on time and advances
she claim's a love burns deep inside
but proven a liar through chances

two boys are headed for the coast
one girl a few doors away
and here i sit, a midnight ghost
with all the wrong words to say

i am not a prophet, i am not a thief
just a shell of man is all
i have been a lover, a friend, a saint
but never a man to call

i am not a fool, i am not your dream
just a ghost on the midwestern plains
i have walked a lonely, broken fortnight
and have come to the end it seems

i have come to the end it seems.
we all come to the end it seems.

lost traveler.

i am feeling compressed. it's as if i am a drawer crammed full of old sweaters. i'm watching the bonds that were always assumed as good for a lifetime fall apart. or, in fact, i have already watched them unravel. my head is spinning from the constant activity of work, school, and a social calender. i have a magazine that needs to get to print. i have a job i need to be showing up for in a different part of the state. i'm inches away from just letting it all spill out. from letting my lips part in an unholy scream. there is something shifting inside of me. for the last several months i have felt an easy contentedness which has quickly left me as of late. i am starting to feel as though i am much smaller, that we are all so much smaller. it's as if the trees no longer loom dominant over the horizon. there are other worlds, other stars, with other planets, a million light years away. so, then, what does it all really matter? why strive for anything more than a pleasant patch of sunlight on a hillside that you can one day lay down inside. drive the nails in the cedar box, we are all as good as dead. four hours, forty days, or forty years, what is the relevance of anything we strive for when it will all one day turn to dust. the preacher man will tell you to do great works of moral significance to fill the time. toil your own broken hands for others, break your back for those less fortunate. who is the judge of fortune? the men with the weariest souls are often the hardest working, and the vagrant has already soiled his chances at prosperity. the godless will tell you to put your toilings into your name, build a fortune and a reputation that will make your name whisper on the lips of eternity. how is that more than just simply futility? many times when my name has been upon other's lips, i have wanted to hide my face. i have no interest in fame or fortune. i have no interest in a legacy. i crave obscurity. during my wanderings i awoke something deep inside of me that had lain dormant for many preceding months. i awoke the desire to be the unknown traveler. a stray dog down a broken road in the heart of the country. when you become a ghost, you will understand. the ability to float from place to place with no plan, no definition, is the only great freedom in this world. when my bones are still, my thoughts race, searching for anything to get me out of this place. an eastern seaboard or a western coast, anywhere away from this god forsaken prairie. my motivation is gone. my head is hung. today i am a lost traveler.

listening to:
"the last song" - the all-american rejects (s/t)
"no one would riot for less" - bright eyes (cassadega)
"raining in athens" - azure ray (burn and shiver)
"in other words" - ben kweller (sha sha)

experiment.

i am going to conduct an experiment this week. it will take both fortitude and resilience, but will hopefully prove to be beneficial. i will not go into specifics at this time about what it entails, but will be posting updates over the course of the next seven days. so, wish me luck.

திங்க்ஸ் தட் ஆர் த ச்டிபுலடிஒன்ஸ் போர் திஸ் வீக்: செவென் ஷோவேர்ஸ், சாவின் எவெரி டே, நோ மீட், நோ ஸ்மோகிங், கீபிங் திங்க்ஸ் ச்லேஅன், பெஇங் ஹோம் பி டென் எஅச் வீக் நைட், பெஇங் ஹோம் பி மிட்நிக்த்ட் ஆன் த வீகேண்ட்ஸ், கெட்டிங் உப எஅர்லிஎர், ரெஅடிங் போர் எ பார்ட் ஒப் எஅச் டே, வொர்கிங் ஆன் த மகஜினே டுரிங் வீக்டய்ஸ், அண்ட் ச்டயிங் ஆன் டாப் ஒப் ஹோமேவோர்க்.

fractions.

1/16 - of the way through the spring semester. so far, so...okay. the classes will not prove overly difficult if i can survive the commute through the cold each morning.

1/8 - of the way to a spring break that includes chicago, columbus, erie, poltney, manhattan, philadelphia, and indianapolis. i could use some time in motion.

1/4 - of the way to spending the evening in wonder as brett dennen captivates at the mews. spending some time in the capital city, as always, will do me some good.

1/2 - of the way to the next pay day. it will be a meager check, but a check is a check, and this world hasn't so far proved to be run on hopes and dreams.

1 - successful week of getting back on my feet after the winter break wanderings. a clean car, a clean house, some new records, and plenty of coffee.

i'm hoping that by the time the temperature rises and the spring comes to have my algebra down. i'm silently plotting equations on lined paper in a steno notebook. adding and subtracting the things that compose life. what happens if the math is off? the breathing continues. we just erase and start the problems over again.

radio hack.

as i woke this morning, i was treated to the appealing sounds through my alarm clock radio of the mason city public schools superintendent being interviewed by some local radio hack. there is nothing more disgusting to hear while one is buried under several blankets than, "today should be the coldest day of the year." their tones were optimistic, both trying to urge listeners to adopt the viewpoint that everyday from here on out should feel like spring in comparison. both voices sounded strained, more than likely due to the fact that they knew they were lying. no one will wake up and throw on a pair of bermuda shorts and skate out into the fourteen above temperatures tomorrow. the concept of a heat wave that crests at twenty four degrees is ludicrous. i still feel behind, but it could just be the weather. everyone seems to be struggling, unable to break through walls of snow that line both roads and everyone's airways. if today is the low point, hopefully all things are about to be on the up and up. otherwise, we might be in for some record setting lows.

jack frost.

i'm starting to feel as if the crest of the wave has reached its zenith, and the entirety of the watery mass will soon fall upon my head. with the onslaught of this week has come many forgotten problems: newspaper articles, math equations, questions of ethics, work schedules, and many other such burdens that had been easily forgotten. a constant drumming has overtaken the carefree tune that had been previously playing in my head. this headache doesn't seem to be subsiding. the cold here wraps and covers the entirety of the world, a blanket that buries even the warmest of souls. this winter apathy is getting the best of me today. i want nothing from myself in these times of no sunlight and eternal cold. to lay sleeping under heavy blankets until the sun returns and digs up the soft earth is all i aspire to. tonight will be a night for dancing. for loud rhythms offsetting somber melodies in a foreign land. i have been second guessing my eagerness for these festivities all day. the temperature is supposed to continue dropping as the night fades on, and by morning, there will be no ground left safe to trod in these parts. if i could, i would have long ago put a bounty on jack frost. he must be behind all of this.

dormant.

my mind is still racing as my body lays dormant. this is causing the room to spin. i crash landed back north of old highway 20, and the ice is proving rather slippery. rest is slowly coaxing my form up and about, just enough to cross paths with a chosen few. the snow keeps falling, the canadian winds tugging at the boards on the north facade. "they're calling for 'nother half 'a foot," says every street corner snowman from beneath a fortress of fleece and flannel. i'm growing slowly impatient with the distant spring, still months away, hidden in some southern hemisphere time zone. hopefully the thaw will come early, releasing the landscape from the constant wave of dunes across the northern plains. up here we stumble from building to building, fighting an arctic dust-storm with each step across the disappearing flatlands. my mind grows lucid with each passing day, i'll try and fashion myself a pioneer of this almost wild west. find four walls, light a candle, and wait out the coldest month. the preparations should last, but what has been gained when the world melts away? one can only horde so much fortitude. a man can not pay for bread in gumption.

bowling.

sometimes in life the days are long. classes for the largest block since careless highschool days, paired with the first work shirt in a month proved quite the load. tomorrow i will recover. tonight, as weariness grips my breath but my my heart longs for company, one idiom proves true:

"fuck it, let's go bowling."

snow fell.

the winds blew and the snow fell. a white sheet partially covering the midwest, broken only by the roar of engines and bleak buildings stretched out of the horizon. the city was on fire through the storm, a million lights smeared by the falling snow. i saw you there, and then i retraced my steps to replay the conversations. little sleep, little food; a sustenance on coffee and cigarettes. i have arrived back to my northern grave, a place to rest my weary bones until the sun emerges from behind this blizzard and will melt my flesh. the spring will be here before we know it. then the real decisions will be upon us, my lower lip quivers at the very thought. i have traced the lines, but now they are going to be made permanent. my hand shakes with the pen. where must i draw? what shapes are going to be the right figures? it will all happen. slowly.

wandering.

i am currently out wandering throughout the midwest. i will return from these travels on january 12, 2009.