I have a memory of who I wanted to be grew I grew up.

even the most perfect reproduction is lacking in one element: presence in time and
space. It's unique existence at the place it happened to be as photographs
give people an imaginary
possession of a past that is unreal, they also help people take possession of a space
in which they are insecure. photography has become on of the principle devices
for experiencing something. For giving appearance of participation!

Swimming in the ocean looks dreamy...

a long time ago the light shone down on you...

You made me love you...

oh god isnt it wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much...

this world, this snowball, this bliss, this tank full of dreams and the dreaming and the dreamers....the memoried trap---This pot for patience, (and for parturience), This hive, this busy city full of fools, This kind oarsman's paradise, this sot-- this edition & ship and classic crystal, entity and no entity wrap for protection, from the invisible infinity, this tale of stars, this lie, ---this delectable sainthood-place, this cross, this brother, Death the motif & repetition sere, this Autumn and Sprint, of nothing but death, this absence of phantoms, this belly of a dog, this noise, this cleave, clasp--alas this picture, this face, this written story,  on perfect paper--this discipline and sugary, this suffering incident, and accident and Noble incomprehensible As-is-Ness (this shin that hurts, this state of nothingness this Ecstasy Foretold, this real dream, this true dream, this path that leads to This, this perfectness)

happy all the time.
phenomena is the trivia of the divine...

everything that decorates life is formative.

the small talk frightens me
ten thousand years on the edge of a cliff

Sometimes you find yourself places that you brough yourself to and you ask:

did I bring myself here?
Was this my choice?

You can learn a lot about yourself objectivly.

an oldie.
that has never been seen (oh my!)
its a bit blurry,
looks like a dream.

this is laura.
about 10 years ago
on a spring day
when the grass was much higher
to our shoulders now
we stood here.
we thought it was a secret place
we thought we outsmarted the traffic and
imagined piolice.