according to my observations (the layers of sweaters and switching from wearing turbans to wearing my beret and other various wool hats,) today is truly the first day of autumn in portland, or so it feels. when i uncovered my eyes from the comforter this morning, i saw a great gray cloud outside the open window. some rain fell, the wind shook the tarp over our dolphin, and now the sun and a hint of blue sky are peeking from their comforter of cloud. today i am fighting to stay motivated and focused on certain businesses that need my attention, but i figured i deserved a small break to update my tumblr, and since i wont be able to see my few rolls of negatives i dropped off at the lab until tomorrow, i figured i’d share with you some of my favourite tumblr blogs these days… but first, i want to say thank you to PDN for the neat little mention in this article, coincidentally about tumblr blogs.
Allow yourself the time to feel. You can’t always bounce from place to place to place. Stick your arm out the window—turn your chin toward the sky. Allow your skin to absorb all that surrounds you. It feels nice. It should feel nice. It should be guilt free. Now—bring a friend next time. There’s always someone in need of a reminder to step out and sit still a moment.
Here we sit on this little stone. It’s you, and it’s me. It’s the sun shining down our shirts. It’s the rain tickling our breasts. It’s the moment we decide surrender is not a fathomable option. Here we are. We take our breath and open our eyes to the beaming possibility that once warmed us. Here we go. One step at a time–it’s the only way to cross the bridge.
(Sneek peak of my most recent short story…more to come soon!)
“Michael Part 1”
Cups will rot if you leave them out too long. I put mine in the freezer when he comes over. It’s what Bobby told me to do. I have watched Bobby for years. He moves with a quiver. He frowns his brow when he makes his way through the neighborhood. He says it keeps the crazies away. He says if you appear to be mirthful and blithe as you walk the streets you are begging to be intruded upon and ultimately butt fucked. “I discovered a few more today.” Bobby’s breath burns my nostrils. “Michael, you listening?” “I wasn’t. What did you find?” I’m proud of my voice sometimes. “I discovered a few—well, at least one more.” “I may strangle you Bobby. I mean it this time.” “Yeah, I know. I’m going now.” “Don’t walk too fast, Bobby. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sometimes I wish I was deaf. I watched Bobby counting his steps. He made sure to extend his left leg with each gesture—to compensate for the lack of mobility his right provides—I suppose. He hasn’t quite filled me in on that character. He told me he will drown in his own spit. He said his father told him he will die with lungs of coagulated mucus hugging his chest. Boys like Bobby don’t last very long.