". . . life is all kinds of ways, the way now is not set. we continually adjust and choose our days and moments. it’s an open story we write. and that is a gift of existence."

a poe about common sense {specifically the relative absence of}

i do not like the scraping of my lucid moments by flail-armed sentries of general mean.

on matters of segmental appreciation

“it is a one-sided silver-painted cardboard consequence that one foot finds the flat. a sawbuck in the back. spent in futures at the deli on the corner of nostalgia and forth. it will be a big sandwich of broken tooth.”

frustrated means

a conversation through email is much like a slowly written signature.

painted

[a repost here from 7 the 11 2008]

"expression is rendered emotion"