accidental flares of love burst through the atmosphere

Breath from another


Have you ever had a proximity crush? Someone that you'd normally be uninterested in, but, maybe one day you sit next to them on a bus and there's a subtle spark in the friction between your sweater and his jacket, and you suddenly find yourself hyper-aware of each bump in the road that sends you lurching in his direction. Maybe you try to lean the other way, or maybe you let your arms stay connected for that split second just to enjoy an anonymous human connection with no obligation, no meaning, no talking, no real purpose.

Sometimes I feel that imaginary closeness with people and sometimes I don't. Sometimes I feel it at a bar, my cheeks warm from alcohol and my mind buzzing at the what-if excitement of someone's unexpected touch. Sometimes I can feel his eyes on me and without thinking, I adjust; I pose. Sometimes it means nothing and sometimes it means a lot. I usually ignore that part and deal with the consequences later, as most human chemistry junkies do.

Over the weekend I climbed down 500+ stairs built into the side of a canyon in the Palisades, and then I climbed back up. In the middle of all that descending/ascending sits Murphy Ranch, a 1930s Nazi compound/1960s artist commune that now serves as a "blank" canvas for what seems like every can of spraypaint that ever existed. The directions that I read described the stairs as "dizzying" which is more than accurate; after a while my mind began to play tricks on me and I had to slow down and hold onto tree branches because I felt like I might fall right off the face of the Earth.


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London changed a lot of things for me. When I returned decided to stop freelancing for good. I can't explain the relief that my body and mind felt after 10 days of being away from a computer and the work that comes with it. The extra money disappears in a day, usually, and it's not worth the taxes that I have to pay on it, the lack of time for myself and my friends, or the soul-sucking feeling that I get in the middle of a 70-hour work week. I stopped drawing and blogging because I didn't have time, and I quickly felt the effects of not doing something that was/is really great at clearing my head. So where do I go from here? I have some ideas that I'm excited about, but I think maybe I won't put them out into the world for a change. I'll keep them inside my head where they're safe. If I write them down they suddenly become less exciting; just more points to cross off on a long to-do list. Big ideas should never feel that way.

Yesterday morning I caught myself singing in the shower. I didn't even notice I was doing it until halfway through Not The Only One by Bonnie Raitt (it's always Bonnie Raitt. Not one of my favorites, but it always reminds me of Franklinville in the fall), and once I realized I was mid-verse I couldn't remember the words anymore.


Aaaanyway. After we climbed all 40,000 steps, we rewarded ourselves with breakfast food and milkshakes at Swingers and then I came home to wash the dirt-tanlines off of my feet. My entire body still hurts.

I'm so happy, though.

All of these places I've been

London is everything