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WHO? Oliver. oof San Francisco again, Brooklyn before, Atlanta & Chicago wayback. RECENT: More Party Pics Party Party soft love. times aren't a changing LA satisfying mixed nuts lapsing why here? "you work in there with THAT asshole?" TRAVELS: Biodiesel trip across America (January, 2005) Paris (April, 2005) Election work in NM (November, 2004) ARCHIVES: September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 May 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 November 2006 October 2006 August 2006 July 2006 June 2006 May 2006 April 2006 March 2006 February 2006 January 2006 December 2005 November 2005 October 2005 September 2005 August 2005 July 2005 June 2005 May 2005 April 2005 March 2005 February 2005 January 2005 December 2004 November 2004 October 2004 September 2004 August 2004 July 2004 June 2004 May 2004 April 2004 March 2004 February 2004 January 2004 December 2003 November 2003 October 2003 August 2003 June 2003 LINKS TO PALS: elly Toshok Pete Tuggy Workstatus Nathan Express Train SEARCH: RSS: Get your RSS feed here |
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| March 2004 »
February 24, 2004 10:46 AMMore Party PicsHi. if you have pictures, please email me!
February 22, 2004 10:57 PMParty PartyLast night, Tamara & I threw a party. Lots of people came! It was fun!
The cutest girl at the party was with me! Can you believe?
February 20, 2004 05:00 PMsoft love.Somebody loves me:
also, other gifts. :) February 16, 2004 02:22 PMtimes aren't a changingmmm. Finally a good night's sleep. Peaceful, after a late night staying up with my love, sitting, geeking and watching movies with Tuggy, drinking & spilling chai, just generally loving. *contented sigh*. All the things done in the right way for connection and for affection. It only comes without work, I'm afraid. We'll have to work on that not-working solution. heh. Morning light, hot coffee, fresh air, and coming home to make a tasty breakfast in my kitchen, in my house, in my Brooklyn. mmmm. Nice bearded men in Tea Lounge, Jakob on the speakers, kindness. Hot days inside of walls protecting & holding me from winter's cold breath. The satisfaction of cutting veggies, scrambling eggs, sipping coffee. *calm joy* Bringing food out to the table, still steaming, Earth Balance melting on spelt toast, coffee, fresh gulps of water. Bob Dylan playing in the living room as sunlight streams into the room that I love in the house that I love. The warmth of radiators, the inner warmth of love heat me to a perfect sheen. Some sadness though; the lyrics from 1963's "Masters of War." *furled brow*. 40 some years later, and we're repeating the same mistakes. How does this happen? How can the people who actually lived through it not remember the pain? I feel it, and I wasn't even a spark in my father's eye yet. Is there something I don't understand? I've lived a few years, but seen so little. I can but hope for understanding in the world.
February 12, 2004 12:11 PMLAFunny. I'm sitting at my desk in New York City. Listening to an LA radio station, IMing with a pal in LA, and making flight reservations to go to LA. Maybe I should go there. Like Soon. February 09, 2004 10:11 PMsatisfyingsatisfying things: February 09, 2004 07:45 AMmixed nuts*snort* Life is good. Weekends are great. Sunday surprises, with reconnections and long lazy walks out in the cold from place to place, being served hot food and drinks. That's what I want my life to be. I should work less. February 07, 2004 07:52 PMlapsingSo, I have a favorite coffee shop, and I eat & drink there often. I've probably mentioned Naidre's before. I love it so. The girls are cute, the boys have crushes on me, the food tasty, and the coffee is full powered. I go there often on weekends, sometimes for as many as three meals a day. They know me well enough that I didn't really need to tell Adam my order. It was always "Breakfast sandwich, add lettuce & tomato. Black coffee." Then I stopped eating meat, so it got more complicated: "Breakfast sandwich: no bacon, add lettuce & tomato. Black coffee." However, it seems that this has crossed the line :( Now, I rarely get what I ordered. Normally, not a problem, but bacon is my weakness. I'd gone a month and a week without any meat, but when the mis-produced breakfast sandwich WITH bacon showed up in my to-go bag this morning, I took it as a sign that I was meant to eat bacon this one time. I did. It was good. :) Then I was sick later. :( Ah well. Today's sounds have included many renditions of "Sinnerman": a melodic cover by Sixteen Horsepower, a housey-house LOUD version by Felix da Housecat, and the original by Nina Simone herself. All pleasing. Also today: Excel spreadsheets, invoices, insanity: not pleasing. Right now, I'm sipping ginger lemon tea sitting at the most amazing large wooden table. I'm watching ms elly show her mastery of the three-hole-punch, and playing with Tuggy's squeezebox mp3 player. Three of Cups next. February 04, 2004 12:48 PMwhy here?There are times, like the darkest of nights, walking down steamy dark Brooklyn streets, leaving underground parties filled with illicit people with a beautiful woman on my arm, when I understand why I live in New York. Bars full of people on the LES, friends greeting each other over sushi in the neighborhood. Communities of workers. But then there's the whole rest of life. The horrific slow death by black cubicle walls, flourescent lights, burdened by responsibility I never wanted. I walk the streets surrounded by people who just don't know enough to care. I can't see the sky. I can't feel the ground beneath my feet. I can't get away. I can't get far enough away. I can't escape. all. of. this. I *need* to not be here. for how long, I don't know. I need isolation. Total fucking desolation. No one around. I want to be in the woods behind the cottage. I don't even care that the house is closed, there's no heat, no hot water. I want to see the ice floes across the lake, feel the biting cold air that cuts through any amount of clothes. I want to feel the leaves and branches snapping under my feet, to bury my hands in the cold hard dirt. I want to climb the ravine, to loose myself on the paths in the woods that i know so well. I can't take it anymore. Is this the time? The point at which I stop buying the cool gadgets, and the stylee clothes? Is this it? Am I ready to start saving all my money? I am preparing to go away? Do I have the balls? Even with the sage advice to get the hell outside, and the added benefit of a gorgeous day in an empty Central Park, calmness seems far away. I went into the park and just walked. farther. and farther. I ended up places unknown, places not visited before, secretive nooks & crannies that I want to use for all the good things, and yet. And yet. The only thoughts were alone. Deep cold breaths of air punctured my lungs, overcoat removed, just to *feel* more. Slow melted, rushing into drains. Horses tromped. Somewhere, a saxaphone player loved the snow and sunshine. run.
February 03, 2004 04:03 PM | ||||
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