I love the sound of crickets chirping through the night. The pale rings of raindrops hitting the roof. The distant night train passing through.

It's sad, really... When I was a child laying awake in bed, those were the organic sounds of Being, and everything in between.

Now, I only think to listen for them when the relentless urgency comes to a halt and there is nothing left to do but Stop.

And once the motion dies... I wonder why I fought so hard to do anything else but Listen.

Dear God, I haven't written in this for such a long time. 'Tis a shame the happiest past few months of my life have been documented only by blank pages. To sum up my summer, I dog sat a neurotic wall-eating but sweet husky, fed yuppies, and road tripped.

Life is good, although being out of school leaves me feeling stagnant and intellectually void. With that said, I've been looking at Grad schools for Religious Studies across the country. Something with a profound and unusual niche outside of typical theology and Bible study... *yawn*

As delightfully nerdy as it may be, I would quite happily study for my PhD and aim for a professorship. I have a feeling unlocking the truths of the world as they unfold would be the only thing I could both be passionate about and well-suited for. As long as my heart still beats against my shallow ribs, I know of no better motivation.

Here I am again...Falling in and out of context, it seems. There is a direness now that was not there before. I wonder if I will ever find the words... the words that will release me from this spell where everything is oddly familiar and definitively unwritten all at once. I am haunted by decisions I have made, and the decisions I have not yet made, but I have no time for dead apology.

Life descends as a dream and i'm unsure of how real either are. Do I fall into place, or do I unmake what has been made? Do I live happily ever after or do I fight for Enlightenment- and will it even be worth it at The End? (if there is such a thing)

The other gray and particularly miserable afternoon, Mander and I grabbed pancakes at the little diner down the street (There's never a wrong time for breakfast- really.) As we paid our checks, a feeble old golden retriever with a tired red collar found its way into the rundown shopping center and nearly got hit by several impatient drivers... Poor thing. Lost and confused, she hesitantly scattered from everyone in mild distrust...unsure of where she was and who they were. We bought some ham and fed her, got her on a leash and put her in the back of the car on some warm towels and gave her lots of love. She was such a sweetheart. We dropped her off at an animal hospital and she checked out for a chip. I smiled as the vet tech took her in, only wishing the world was a kinder place...where everyone would point you Home if you had lost it.

Ben and Greg bumped into me before class the other day. And threw rubber balls at me. I threw them back and they bounced off the wall and about hit Ben in the head, but he ducked. Ahhh :) I wonder how many students get to play in the Faust building with their favorite professors?

Lately, I've dreamt of people I haven't spoken to in ages. After all these years, their faces are as vivid as they used to be, smiling as though the goodbyes hadn't complicated them. I woke up unsettled and confused... And I wondered how many times I'll be remembered like this once I've gone?

For the first time in years, I've found myself jonesing for a PC/RPG game so hard. Suggestions? Concerns? ... Bad jokes?

I just brought home an old refinished Schwinn road bike. So stoked. After my accident last summer, my old mountain bike was totaled and the frame was bent all to hell(...I suppose that's to be expected after being hit by a car. Meh.) The Schwinn has drop handlebars, duel brake levers, and it happens to be made just for my vertically challenged self. It's Carolina blue... steel framed, and I can't wait to polish it up and trick it out when I have a little more cash. Definitely replacing the pedals, the seat, putting on a rack, a water bottle holder, a new kickstand, crank set, visibility flashers, and replacing the gripping. Sexy.

The other day, Carolyn and I went and hiked up Stone Mountain and enjoyed the summit view and camped out there. The waterfalls were amazing. I probably would have monkeyed around a little more, but all of the rocks were covered in ice. I may be a little cavalier, but no dice.

After much convoluted deliberation, I've been given another semester here in Greensboro. Last fall, I would have dreaded staying... but fate has dealt me a new hand and I couldn't be happier about it :)

I dreamt my eyes turned from brown to gold, vividly. I woke up feeling oddly conscious, splashed my face with water relieved to find the eyes looking sheepishly back at me in the mirror were my own. Golden eyes... I wonder what it meant?

A friend of mine joined me down at Tate Street Coffee the other day, and she told me when she initially met me, Ben told her "That is one of our most promising students in the Religious studies program." ...I smiled slightly at the fact he's had the same mutual respect for me that I've had for him all these years.

For Halloween this year, I'm going as Waldo. My friend is going as Carmen Sandiago, and we're going to carry a huge sign that says: "Well? Where the $%#@ are they?!?" ... We were trying to get someone to come as Bin Laden, but that might be a little too much...

We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don't grow on trees, like in the old days.
So where does one find love?
When you're sixteen it's easy,
like being unleashed with a credit card in a department store of kisses.
There's the first kiss. The sloppy kiss. The peck.
The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch.
The "we shouldn't be doing this" kiss. The "but your lips taste so good" kiss.
The "bury me in an avalanche of tingles" kiss.
The "I wish you'd quit smoking" kiss.
The "I accept your apology, but you make me really mad sometimes" kiss.
The "I know your tongue like the back of my hand" kiss.
As you get older, kisses become scarce.
You'll be driving home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road, with its purple thumb out.
If you were younger, you'd pull over, slide open the mouth's red door just to see how it fits.
Oh where does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a smile.
Rub two smiles, you get a warm feeling.
Rub two warm feelings and presto-you have a kiss.
Now what? Don't invite the kiss over and answer the door in your underwear.
It'll get suspicious and stare at your toes.
Don't water the kiss with whiskey.
It'll turn bright pink and explode into a thousand luscious splinters,
but in the morning it'll be ashamed and sneak out of your body without saying good-bye,
and you'll remember that kiss forever by all the little cuts it left on the inside of your mouth.
You must nurture the kiss. Turn out the lights.
Notice how it illuminates the room. Hold it to your chest
and wonder if the sand inside hourglasses comes from a special beach.
Place it on the tongue's pillow, then look up the first recorded kiss in an encyclopedia:
beneath a Babylonian olive tree in 1200 B.C.
But one kiss levitates above all the others.
The intersection of function and desire. The "I do" kiss.
The "I'll love you through a brick wall kiss.
Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth,
like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones."

Jeffrey McDaniel

Summer courses are out and the Summer is finally mine, if not for the month. So many nights i've spent lying in the bed of a truck and watching the city in reverse under the stars. Sneaking into pools at 3am and skinny dipping. My hair has grown long. My fingers wear wicked callouses earned by idle strumming. My smile is tired, but I mean it. My hand is broken, but my resolve is fortified. The Truth is evident, but my heart isn't any less brave.

I can feel myself wanting to run from this place... and wanting to linger here out of opposite sides of the same anticipation, growing thicker on both ends. Soon, none of it matter. Any chances I lost will be sealed here when I leave in January for the Air force. I've always walked my own path, this will be no different. It's funny, though. I never expected to arrive at my Destination alone.

Random: I've decided to write a screenplay called Proof. (No, not that damn play about the mathematician's daughter who goes crazy and solves an impossible expression) Rather, Proof, man justifying his own death through the thresholds of his life. They say the human brain remains active for 15 minutes after the rest of the body is dead. Dreams typically only last on average 3 or 4 minutes in which time is contorted. Imagine what it would be like to face your subconscious at the End.

Day. Night. Today. Tomorrow. Last week. Weekends. Weekdays... I've been so busy lately so little, it seems, really distinguishes these things anymore. Instead, I've measured time in songs, laughter, and the moments between smiles.

The world has been gray for so long, I was beginning to forget what the sun looked like. For a brief while, I stepped out of the monotonous florescent lit corridors and under the sky to the warmth of the sun on my face. The soggy cold and monochrome transformed into vibrant colors and spring blossoms the entire way home. It wasn't for long, but it was enough.

Riley and Sebastian have taken to sleeping outside my bedroom door if I don't let them in before I go to bed. (I didn't know this) Mander knocked and told me it was too pathetic to see them out there and let them in. I feel terrible about that. Riley is snoring something fierce.

Also, I have an insatiable craving for toast. Mmm.

Most people don't realize just how oily paintball actually is. Usually, that's because you only get hit with one or two before you're out of the game. 2000 florescent green paintballs is a completely different story. We soaked a bunch of paintballs until the shells were soft and opened fire. Someone just took handfuls and squeezed over people's heads. It was glorious. The aftermath resembled something between Ghostbusters and Crisco. Ahhh victory.

All I can hear right now is the organ pipes washing over our street radiating from the church down the block. Their thin sounds draw a sigh from Riley (our dog), who's napping on my lap, but I share his sentiments. They play every night for mass, although I didn't notice until last week. Our neighbor across the street plays keyboard and guitar from his roof sometimes, but it's always a freer song.

I feel the bravery returning to my heart. The warmth is long unfamiliar and the stakes are stacked high, but they always are. I know that now. Patience, they tell me. The endings are unwritten, just like many beginnings before them.

No matter what happens when Time unravels, I am ready.

...(EDIT: Remind me not to tempt Fate by saying shit like that.)

Life seems to be making less and less sense lately, but I don't particularly mind. Someone's looking out for me, because my infamous accident proneness hasn't killed me yet. Just last night, a car failed to stop in time for it's red light, and it halted to a stop right in front of me in the middle of the intersection, but he missed me narrowly. (Or is it the other way around?) Either way, I've managed to avoid death and serious injury on many dubious occasions lately. Weird stuff.

I've been having these very vivid strange dreams lately, and I wish I knew what they meant. More and more, my dreams feel like they're leaking intensity onto the rest of the world somehow.

And despite all of this unusualness, I find my thoughts constantly coming to rest where I know they shouldn't, but I don't care.

Haiku2 for blackgambit
and maybe most of all someone i can feel it i know where i want
@ aboutmylife.netadvogato.orgblogger.comblogs.gnome.orgblogspot.comdeadjournal.comgreatestjournal.cominsanejournal.comlivejournal.commyspace.comspaces.msn.com
Created by Grahame

Wow. It's almost the end of January. When did that happen?

The snow from the past week finally melted in the rain yesterday. It was kind of funny. My car was encased in ice the other morning. We spent our days watching the snow, drinking Hot Cocoa, ambushing each other with snowballs, smoking hookah, homework, and shots of Jameson and Pearl ...(probably in that order)

Week #2 as a Religious Studies major: words can't describe how stoked I am about all of my classes.(God, I'm such a nerd)Two of my six classes are with my favorite professor of all time, Ben Ramsey. (I'm his smartass cohort) My brain might just melt into a philosophical clusterfuck by the end of the semester, but in a good way : )

Not only am I double majoring, but I've inadvertently earned three minors already... oops.

( Schedule and classes: )

Also, I've decided my house has an infestation of kittens. The kitten is curled up on my bookshelf on the tops of my books. Sebastian's on my couch snoring in tiny mews. This morning, Kitten scared the bejesus out of me and popped out of my dresser in my closet. Sometimes she lies in wait on the tub floor. It's slightly unnerving (More adorable than problematic, but whatever)

It's 5:36am. Lately, it seems I'm too restless to stay here for very long. Whether to avoid the problems that sleep here or because I know where I want to be is another matter.

Escaping the tension of my house, we fled to my spot and climbed to watch the trains. An abandoned silos tower high enough to see from one end of the city to the other in relative cityscape silence- my refuge I find myself returning to more and more often. April and I talked of circumstances we couldn't escape, emotions we couldn't displace. All the while, laughing and joking, dusting the rust from our hands and watching the stars that seemed too clear for Greensboro.

I've always viewed emotions as a sort of energy in a very scientific and behaviorally cause-and-effect sort of way. Physics reapplied. Take for example Anger: either you a) explode, b)swallow it, knowing every toxic deposit builds upon itself, leading to c)explode later, or even d) implode later, and of course the alternative, e)find an outlet to let it out in healthier (or at least less intense) intervals including but not limited to: exercise, ocd cleaning fits, meditation, and expression, all the way down to vice, drug use, alcohol, and other various forms of escapism. No matter what you do, the energy is there, but depending on how you will its distribution, it can't control or resonate in your behavior.

*This message has been brought to you by the letter D. And the number 2. We now return to our regular programming.

And Love? The question stirred in my chest. What about that?
I felt myself sigh.
...Goddamn it.

When I can't sleep, I wait for the train to pass by. It's funny. When I first came to Greensboro, they used to keep me up, but they comfort me now. I've fallen asleep to them for four years now.

I can't sleep tonight. Blame insomnia, horror movies, or even the charming ambiance of Greensboro (i.e. police sirens and assorted car alarms) but I know otherwise. My mind is intoxicated with worries I can't possibly mend. But for the first time in years, all of this is overshadowed by the the way your smile falls across your face. In this, it makes me smile.

Also, my timing is really lousy. -_-

Brit and I meandered idly until we ended up somewhere near Market Street, speaking of many things we had no answers for. As we walked we discovered a lost playground and a set of swings. We spoke of dreams and harsh realities, losing our feet in the stars as we swang like we were five again. I wonder how many nights like this I have left that will be my own.

I've been looking into joining the Air Force after I graduate. Not only would I start out as a Second Lieutenant as well as have law school classes paid off and encouraged, but secretly, I've always wanted to be a pilot. I'd even consider being a JAG. The whole $40,000 starting, $1,200 monthly rent allotment, $180 monthly food allotment, and the whole dental/healthcare perks are nice, too. I'm resigned, but seriously considering it.

Until Christmas, i'm gonna be out of the country for the next few days, so if I don't get to say it, Merry Christmas, guys : )

( Random Christmas Facts: )

A few nights back, we took a road trip to Pilot Mountain, sprawled out on my old sleeping bag and we watched the night sky free of the city lights. Just about every star in the sky rained through the darkness. We huddled together for warmth and watched the shooting stars. We counted seven. I only wished on one of them.

I'm sitting in my grandfather's living room at the moment. I haven't been up to Long Island in about two years, but it's a nice change. He's a smartass packrat and an NPR junkie. There are books and papers and cds on just about every plausible surface, pieces of art and obscure artifacts and modern marvels and candles scattered about... but in a comfortable way. I grew up in this house. The nights are spent over drinks and good company talking, debating and laughing. Usually all three. So much of him I've always had in me, kindred in thought, habits, and humor.

We started a prank war. We at team Optimus Prime forked Kelly's yard. (Spooning leads to forking). Roughly $20 of cutlery and army crawling under cars. Just a friendly knock at the door. Yeah... we so got them. Apparently, they're planning on beasting me whenever I get back.

My head's been swirling with confusion and indecision lately, but I don't mind much. Life's been busy in the best possible way. Things will come to light when they're ready. They always do.

( Damn it. )

They say when you hear the ringing in your ears, the schwann cells for that particular frequency are dying. You'll never hear that frequency again.

Bars. Clubs. Underground recording studios. Houses i'll never see again. I sat at a table behind the pulsing speakers and blaring lights streaming over the web of gyrating bodies. The music had made me mostly deaf hours ago, but the bass still ripped into my chest. Hypnotically. Sensually. Corrosively. Always such a strange feeling. Every sense pushed to the brim until we were hollow. I took a drag and exhaled slowly, watching the smoke sail to the ceiling through the strobe lights like a wayward prayer.

Today, I walked out of the house towards my car. The sky blue as ever, clouds streaking high like plane trails as the blaring sun tangled itself in them. An intensity I probably couldn't afford. I've been waiting... Or is it delaying? Cloud watching has become like a Rorschach inkblot test lately. It makes me nervous, but I look up anyhow.

My mirrored sunglasses broke the other day. I liked them because no one could see my eyes. Not the idle glances. Not the conflict. Not sadness. Not fear. Not joy. My eyes give me away if you know to look there. I found a new pair of purple tinted shades. They're perfectly translucent, but I like them. They turn the world a shade of cleaner light. Everything more vibrant and less dingy.

I could use the change.

Did you know Albert Einstein didn't believe in black holes until about three years before his death? Most mathematicians believe that numbers are the way to God. To find a perfect formula would be thought to explain creation. Except...blackholes are tears in the universe. But... if God created us in his own image, than God himself must be imperfect. Einstein refused to accept that until right before his death.

Apparently, the number 16 doesn't exist in Hebrew, because the number 16 is the same word as "God". Instead, it's said "10+6". Always. I'm not sure if that's a good omen or a bad omen to have for a birthday, but oh well.

I bought this khaki trenchcoat from the thrift store yesterday. Of course, I'm going as Dick Tracy for Halloween. I was going to spray paint it yellow... but the damn thing is too nice to ruin. It's a London Fog trench- complete with a detachable sleeved lining and waterproof exterior. Got it for five bucks, but it's grown on me. Sam Spade, anyone?

Things to pick up/ finish:
A block of Styrofoam
black spray paint
tattoo sketch
music cover collage
900x speed color film
newspaper/charcoal drawing

It seems life is turning around. The five month drought has been met with a three day monsoon. Sleeping beneath the sounds of rain against the roof changes a day. Greensboro had only 90 days of water left; now the rains quench the parched earth. I can feel things in the wake of change. Something big is brewing, but I'm not quite sure what just yet.

Where has the sun gone? Oh well... Maybe it'll rain soon. Rain so you can see your silhouette in the pavement casting rings. Rain so hard you have to peel your clothes off afterwards. Rain bewitching the roof in hypnotic verse. Rain that gives you an excuse to snuggle under a blanket with a mug of hot chocolate and a book until the world is right again. (It's a good day for coffee and checkers.)

Sebastian is curled up next to me, purring lazily and reading over my shoulder. Out of the 5 (6, sometimes) animals in this house, he's my favorite.

My Mom finally turned my old room into her art studio. Granted, I haven't lived at home in four years, but I think it fits. Her easel is sitting right by the window with tubes of paint and bits of canvas are neatly stacked on the window seat.

The double-pronged streetlights guided me back to Greensboro. They wound above the highway like a spine. Everywhere I go always seems too small. Too large. Too empty. Always empty.
It seems I'm always in a state of arrival...only to leave soon after.
I wish I could find the heart to stay.

P.S.- Coffee reaching dangerously low levels. Must remedy.

Greensboro is a ghost town at night. It's eerie. Mist sinks above the streetlamps. You can go an entire trip across town without seeing an arbitrary face... or even another set of headlights in passing. Just the street lights, changing autonomously. For people like me.

Autumn's close. I can feel it. I climbed the ladder to my roof, propped my hands behind my head and stared at the sky for a while. The stars are more clear when it's brisk. They stain the sky with light like halos raining through pinholes. Secretly, that's why I crave Autumn. Sweaters. The feeling of coziness settling in. Red cheeks. Billowing breath. Chai. Monarch butterflies. Shedding sins like leaves. Red. Orange. Yellow. Cold hands shoved snuggly in pockets. New beginnings. Especially new beginnings.