Sunday, April 29, 2012

things to get: a job, a friend, a wooden cabin, a garden

Once you realize you are the only thing standing in the way of your own happiness you feel quite stupid.

Monday, April 2, 2012

to keep doing the same thing and expect a different result

another bumbling evening in the cool and awkward twilight i found myself mealy-mouthed and introducing myself as a film maker to strangers. i conversed at what i thought was a regular volume, but was interrupted by the excitement of strange cheeses and chickens, people turned away from the middle of my sentences and i spoke into the vine and ivy covered backyard like i'd intended to address it all along.
then a real artist showed up with half her head shaved and tattoos and she spends all of her time in a studio. some of them live in a canyon. some of them have two homes. some of them teach others. and i feel like i've trespassed. so i sneak to the front yard. careful to close the gate because of the chickens. the front yard with the flat wooden swing. and i am back and forth. the half moon above, blocked by a skeletal branch, now free. then blocked again. and the spring smell budding behind me. we are oil and water. i will keep trying to mix us, but we'll settle and separate on either side of that rusty fence.