Talk about the weather.

Tongue in cheek? Hardly. Weather is one of the most vibrant, nuanced, mischievous metaphors for life imaginable. Each engagement on the subject has potential to unravel personalities and reveal secret desires. It is a brilliant way to bide time while guaranteeing relationships' progress, always in pursuit of realization. Popular culture, politics, sports...all pales in comparison to the simple majesty of the weather.

Work in progress...

I wanted to say,
you're the very definition

of affect.

But I looked it up.

apparently;
the act
of taking on,
or displaying,
an attitude or mode
of behavior not genuinely felt,

grandiosity and
pretension

is maybe
not very nice to say.

I want to say though,
It's lovely when you do it.

Because I thought about it,
and even though this wasn't
what I meant to say,
it's what I mean.

Aren't you the one who told me?
That you used to be so full of it, that
you never really listen?

Well, I don't care.
It's beautiful when you do it.

I was never a poet, but when you're too broken to write...

The rain makes
a meteor shower
in the headlights.

It burns cold
down our skin
into the earth.

I am so sad right now,

for everything excess.
Pain not needed,
balms we're too
lazy to apply.

Winter comes to
make the rain
colder into ash.

Las Vegas

Get off the plane, from early morning flight. Cross country neon coffin tube for 120. Cozy. Cramped. Upon release she says to me "Shoot Real Machine Guns at Real Chippendale's Rio Models!" Yes, there's a Snow Tiger between them. Welcome to Las Vegas.

'Nuff said.

"for the record, i understand you being doubtful of my commitment"

Watching Jeremiah Johnson made me certain of two things; how badly I wish not to be a mountain man, and how bad I want to get back into the mountains. I think this applies to most things I enjoy in life.

Today

It was that kind of day. Terrifying in how wonderful it was, because you want to capture it or at least copy every facet to replicate on command, but such things are impossible, and you fear the emptiness which may well up in the aftermath, the vast quaking footprint left behind by true happiness. It feels like falling but you may never wake up.

Things I want:

A small set of good harmonicas.

Silks.

A subscription to Climbing magazine.

An annual pass to the Gunks.

My Powered-Paraglider Certificate.