I met you in afternoon air sitting by the cafe.

I sat underneath the brambles with you, softly touching your neck while I grazed my lips to yours. And while I held you in your long skirt, I slid my hand softly against your smooth flesh and lost myself in your dark beauty. Unknowing of how the days following will go, I was forced to think of the situation as one day, one moment without chance of another. The moment, therefore, was a great deal more.

I went to the party shivering in my wet clothes. The pond felt warm in the moment. Afterward, the night air robbed me of my energy forcing me into a shiver.

And I think this could be great.

Nevertheless, I am sadly realistic.

Today I go on a run and try to force on my mind a Zen image of the moment. One time. One instance. One second followed by another. This way it will be beautiful even when we find our true paths.

This is a crazy world for a hopeless romantic fool such as I.

The product of Sitara's meat loaf.

Last night, with a garlic-onion-basil-all spice-sausage-beef flavored concoction in my stomach, I dreamt of one who would run after me.

The dream so vivid, I awoke infatuated with the thought. Yet I could not recall the face. She believed in something and in me. And that we could face the world with a ferocity of never backing down, of simple pleasures and poetic souls.

And I awoke. Sufjan played on the radio.

~ I sat by a little stream last evening. The night was filled with bull frogs ribbits and locust grrks. I studied for the test that would not define me. And it was a fine reason to pull myself away from all this.

Though ...

I am glad I could truly escape in one dream of what the world could be again.

Discipline

Self-Discipline.

A not old, but mostly forgotten concept in my life.

The wonders of my mind materialize in an active motion. My room, tidier. My body, fitter. My mind, sharper.

I need it right now. A big test looms. It sits before me on the horizon as any challenge might. It is a daunting example many before me have faced on a less dramatic level.

But what else do I have?

I am living in poverty with so many ambitions, so many ideals. I have given up romances, friendships, aesthetics and my home for this passion.

Because! People are people. And no one should suffer in this system! Everyone has a right to feel hopeful and alive. So I must read and cultivate myself until I can actually help those people. I hope I do not sell out and give my soul to some mission to hoard resources and money. I hope my children know what it is to live life for the smallest things, never cowering behind a dogma.

And for this, I must have discipline.

Nothing ever proven.

Life is a constant state of flux.

So are people.

Yet, I believe for all the random, crazy encounters for which I yearn ... I dream of a constant. Amy once said she couldn't be with me because I was like a wild horse, just running free. I don't know if that's true. The more people I meet, the more I think we are all the same. Yet some of us are afraid.

Fear can be a puzzling thing, and I have found myself more and more wrapped up in it since I graduated college. I have waited for this trial-by-fire, but I have come to think it may be this whole time period: the misspent time with love, financial hardship, family problems, physical problems and even work-related issues verging on craziness. It has been a time away from the arena I call home, and a period of my life away from what I really want to do.

So much that at times I have felt mighty lost.

So I find myself running every morning ... running towards something ... towards what?!

I don't know.

Just the unknown, I guess.

Desperation

What burden! What drain! are the stresses of poverty. Three days until my birthday, and I watch as people once close drift further and further away. I am alienating myself and becoming a person none would like to befriend.

So here I am, in my office, three days before my birthday. My mind is flooded with problems. And yet I know everything else is slowly falling away. Is this the path of law? Is this how the rest of my life will go if I pursue this field? I am perplexed and unsatisfied.

Somehow I will watch it all crumble as a spectator. I will watch and think, what a beautiful life this is that has come to ruin.

I remember when I would take off my shoes and walk through a field only thinking of how I might create some prose to describe the moment and scene. I remember long horseback rides, and all the simplicities and dreams of life that burned within. I remember not being so caught up and so fixated and so bumbling. I remember the confidence of climbing, the confidence of the classroom. I remember the days when I felt I wouldn't have to beg forever.


This is my penalty for a life too examined, a life with not enough action.

Abandon city nights.

Life can be as beautiful as one makes it!
This is why I try to surround myself with an aesthetic beauty that will help characterize my soul. These mountains were the energy of my youth. But for now, I must find my strength in the words of Camus who in the midst of winter, found within his soul an eternal summer.