On these nights, i don't know what to do with myself; i miss the Land and Sea, the house seems saddened by their leaving. i occupy myself with anything- tonight,it is a box of wet photographs,another gift from ExA. The possessions i have yet to collect from my old life sit in wait for me on the front porch with a leaky roof. It appears that my stuff cannot be moved fast enough to make room for his.

It's been a year, you say.

i know, i say, but a year in a dog's life is much shorter. To some dogs,it is yesterday.

As i sort through hundreds of photos still stored in paper envelopes developed at stores that no longer exist, it never ceases to amaze me how bad a photographer i was/am. Almost every trip i have taken is recorded by photos of buildings- out of focus, nondescript buildings, in Pennsylvania, Montreal, Seattle. They evoke nothing, so they all made the garbage. The ones that didn't make the garbage? Photos of buildings that had an out of focus classmate or family member.

It is this exercise that brings on sweet memories of my first love, Esme, and my second, Daisy. In photos i see a love i once had for them, perhaps still do. They lead me here, for better or for worse, and while i want to believe that if i hadn't ended those relationships i wouldn't be suffering today, i know better. They know better. It occurs to me that some day i will look upon ExA with the same love, but it angers me to consider.

Today, i saw a different photograph: four young girls, 14 or 15, walking the neighborhood, laughing and without a destination. Scenes like this capture that feeling for me, 27 years ago, when my summers were spent working very little, sleeping too late and walking from one friend's house (who had the best Atari games) to the next friend's house (who had the best albums or stereo). Divorce had touched only my best friend, and i still believed that true love existed.

i still wonder if i can ever get that boy back.

subconscious work out

i am thankful for the barrier between dreams and consciousness.

Last night, my dream had me living in a house close by a retail area, with a grocery store next door, a few hundred feet away. At one point, i sent my youngest, the Sea, to buy something at the store. My dream self had a reason at the time.

Minutes later, after she had left, my dream self, gripped in fear, looked out the window to the store wondering where she was and berating myself for letting a 5 year old walk down a busy street and go into a store alone.

The last image in my head was the look on her face when i asked her to do the errand.

Thank god for awaking.

little mirrors

The curse of raising two girls who you have encouraged to be verbally expressive is... well, they're verbally expressive.

The Sea has taken this to new heights. Lately, when i am trying to respond to her query or correcting her, she begins every sentence, "But daddy, you don't understand!" Part of me thinks that she has no idea why she uses that statement, but another part of me is fascinated by where she picked it up. Is it mine? Am i so blind to my verbal mannerisms that i say such a condescending thing to her?

Probably.


The Land is and has been since she could talk the pragmatic one. And while this bothers me because i wasted so much of my life looking at everything pragmatically, she often grounds me with it.

"Why are you using your upset voice? Are you angry? You seem angry"

And so on.

i never would have thought i'd learn so much from these little mirrors.

You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste death

Lucky man.

Although, if you're going to do it, it should be done as a reflection of what your life meant: quiet, small, empty. Driving into the Grand Canyon seems....bombastic.

wood reinforced scenery

Nights like this appear, grays seep over the other colors and turn the world bleak.

Sometimes i wonder how long it will take. It had felt as though your stains were leaving me, life had hope, it made sense to start taking steps again.

No matter how much time has elapsed it returns like it is that first night i realized my mistake in ruining us.

i returned "home," the word struggling to sound sincere and couldn't walk through the door. i sat in my backyard weighing the darkness inside, the home empty of my family.

i have never hated someone so much in my life. i don't believe i have ever hated someone before.

seasons in the sum

Songs that i can't listen to without tearing up:

1. When I Was a Boy, Dar Williams
2. Fairytale of New York, The Pogues
3. New Partner, Will Oldham
4. Brockwell Park, RHP


God, i love music, for it's purifying baptism.

chrysalis

When you arrived at midnight, July 11, it looked to be another great night of conversation and kissing, but as the hours wore on, our looks and words peeled more layers off and i let myself fall slightly. i have not fallen all of the way, but i see now that i could.

Navigating the physical is not as daunting as it used to be, but is not without reservation; your confidence assured me, your smiles comforting. My hands found you warm; soft; trembling; assured. And it is still the kissing i enjoy most.

It is too easy to say that you are a burst of light since my downfall, but not too much to call you seraph from now on.