I left the door open for you to come in. I’d watch for you but my hands are busy mending what recollections of your paleturningseasons face I’ve saved in the tattered shoe box we kept in the closet. I would have saved them from the fire but my entire body was overcome with the ache of inadequacy. I read the best way out is always through.thru.threw.

[blue breeze,

If I had my life to live over I’d try to make more

Mistakes next time. I would relax. I would limber up.

I’d be sillier than I have been on this trip. I know of

A very few things I would take seriously.

I would be less hygienic, I would take more chances

I would take more trips.

I would climb more mountains, swim more rivers,

And watch more sunsets.

I would burn more gasoline and eat more ice cream

And less beans.

I would have actual troubles & fewer imaginary ones.

You see I’m one of those people who lives sensibly

And sanely hour after hour, day after day.

Oh, I’ve had my moments. And if I had my life to live over I’d have more of them. In fact I’d have nothing else

Just momentsoneafteranother.

Instead of living so many years ahead each day.

I’ve been one of those people who never goes anywhere

Without a thermometer, hot water bottle, rain coat & a

Parachute.

If I had my life to live over I’d go places and do

THINGS AND TRAVEL LIGHTER THAN I have.

If I had my life to live over I would start

Barefoot earlier in the spring & stay that way

Later in the fall. I would play hooky more.

I wouldn’t make such good grades, except by accident.

I’d ride more merry-go-rounds. I’d pick more daisies.

Yours,

Nadine]

I pasted the edges of her letter in. the words nestled themselves in between.

R u n n I n g a s f a s t a s I c a n ,

-js.

2001-07-17 - 8:10 a.m.

no help for that

...

there is a place in the heart that

will never be filled

a s p a c e

and even during the

best moments

and

the greatest

times

we will know it

more than

ever

there is a place in the heart that

will never be filled

and

we will wait

and

wait

in that

space.

~charles bukowski

...

i'm sitting here alittlenakedandbarelybreathing. i lost a friend last night in a sea of misdirection. the limb is severed...*sigh* but i feel the breeze from that door closing, and it feels better than it left wide open. here comes the storm.

2001-07-17 - 1:23 a.m.

crazy, my best friend said.

...

van gogh writing his brother for paints

hemingway testing his shotgun

celine going broke as a doctor of medicine

the impossibility of being human

villon expelled from paris for being a thief

faulkner drunk in the gutters of his town

the impossibility of being human

burroughs killing his wife with a gun

mailer stabbing his

the impossibility of being human

maupassant going mad ina rowboat

dostoevsky lined up against a wal to be shot

crane of the back of a boat into the propeller

the impossibility

sylvia with ehr head in the oven like a baked potatoe

harry crosby leaping into that black sun

lorca murdered in the road by the spanish troops

the impossibility

artaud sittin on a madhouse bench

chatterton drinking rat poison

shakespeare a plagerist

beethoven with a horn stuck into his head against deafness

the impossibility the impossibility

nietzche gone totally mad

the imopssibility of being human

all too human

this breathing

in and out

out and in.

these punks

these cowards

these champions

these mad dogs of glory

moving this little bit of light toward

impossibly.

~charles bukowski

2001-07-15 - 10:01 a.m.

i'm sitting here in church for the first time in weeks and an unfamiliar voice graces the air. it's the third new minister in the past two years and *sigh* here it goes again. this church is old-so are it's occupants. they see God in a recognizable routine, and in the silent reverb of sunday. their heads are turned at a soft angle toward the fresh voice of topeka united methodist's latest find. an "innovator", a rocktheboat kind of woman. it starts. 8:45 - praise and worship songs. they pull the book strangely from it's new home nestled between the hymnal and the bible. they turn to the song... and in her head it seems ground breaking, in her head she thinks she's renewing and saving, and in some ways she is. but sometimes the way people worship their God-however anicient, however methodical, needs no refinement. sometimes what exists, exists because it works, and has for some time - and a new language confuses the issue at hand.

this is all very odd coming from me. and maybe i'm just arguing someone else's point. maybe i'm just incredibly tired of the ways christian leaders water life down to con us into listening. careful, don't depress the drones. *sigh*, so i turn to my left...maybe they have something we can't understand because it was such a different time. and maybe i just call God by the wrong name. funny, He's always answered to it.

religion- whatever shade of it you follow - is yours. let it enfold you.

-js.

2001-07-12 - 5:51 p.m.

within the blanketpadded walls of my comfortable life i sat today peering out a small second story window. minutes dripped by into a cup i have waiting

for them and i seem to be in the same chair i woke up in this morning. a slight older.nonethewiser. nonethericher. and that’s okay. fine by me.

“Regards, have a pleasant journey, write soon-but you know now how i shall face the future, with serenity and without a line on my face to betray the

struggle in my very depths,

ever yours,

Vincent”

~vincent van gogh

-js.

2001-07-11 - 6:38 a.m.

sake,

i cry far too much and breath far too little in between. and sometimes i wonder if all happiness is, is just a little less sadness than this exact moment. but that's silly, it's just suprising. it's usually better in the morning.

~js.

Retreat

My mind is like a labrador

Named hunter

Wanting to play fetch

Panting

Unable to hold still

Lie down mind

Learn to rest awhile

Learn to drop the stick

Linger long enough to let someone rub you

Behind the ears

~linford detweiler

. . .

2001-07-10 - 9:01 p.m.

red,

a grocery list of emotions...*sigh*.

-js.

2001-07-09 - 7:49 p.m.

blankets,

i kinda wanted to wander upstairs in my pajamas. you know be soft spoken and spoken softly to?

...I think I loved you:

I was just too young to know.

You overflowed and

Flooded damaged days

With something palpable

I did not wish to name.

I fell down laughing

Time and time again

And felt my tired eyes

Well up with sleep

At last.

I followed you, a little brother's distance,

Watched you go where I could not,

Wake up after dark and leave the room,

Step out alone into the starry night.

Somehow you were not threatened

Or offended

By my deep unwieldy

Reservoir of pain,

The needle and the rush of solitude

(That maybe somehow, sort of kept me sane).

You subdued the darkness

With a reckless light

And told me your wild secret

Late one night.

(I asked myself, Did I already know?)

It suited you and when you leapt

Away into his arms,

I let you go.

~linford detweiler

. . .

And It Was Good

If you're reading this dear reader,

Then you can be my lover

(And I know that's much

More than you bargained for).

Let's birth some child together

In our mind's eye

With these words,

(Mingle something of this curve

Into your step if we should meet),

And I'll know that, yes,

Somehow, you understood.

~linford detweiler

. . .

i'm thirsty for f r e e d o m . it's a warm night.

-js.

. . .

2001-07-08 - 7:32 p.m.

crimson,

(thisonesforyou) as red as you are today was filledtothebrim with green.

(of course i'm laughing i'm h!a!p!p!y)

enjoy.

-js.

2001-07-08 - 11:06 a.m.

Mud Puddle Kiss, Slogging Through The Rain With Her

Here's an idea

Let's grab this life and wring its neck with joy

So that when it comes time to die

When we find we have no breath left

It is because we willingly strangled ourselves

With love

Fell down dead

And mostly happy

~linford detweiler

...

2001-07-08 - 1:25 a.m.

don't hold back.

-js.

2001-07-07 - 7:14 a.m.

a little sleep, a little b e t t e r. stil a little rOuGh around the edges...

sandpaper anyone?

anyway, pardon my absence of eloquence lately. i've been feeling a little blunt meets east coast modesty. (what?) :) so it's time for me to get ready for the redundancy of work. today i get a brief intermission of wonderful.

"he said an accordian is such a perfect metaphor for love, because you are always opening, and closing, shifting, and getting air, and that's how the music happens"

~sabrina ward harrison

take me on home,

-js.

2001-07-07 - 12:53 a.m.

darkness crept in,

i thought it would be easier to give in.

"we all are facing choices that define us. no choice. however messy is without importance. in the overall picture of our own lives. WE ALL AT OUR OWN AGE HAVE TO CLAIM SOMETHING. even if it's only our own confusion. i am in the middle of growing up and into myself. this is my life in progress..."

~sabrina ward harrison

i'm inside a little a lot afraid. you're not speaking...this damn computer. i can't be the first to talk. you have to come to me this time. this time...

standing and spinning,

-js.

2001-07-06 - 3:07 p.m.

oh, i'm ok, i'm fine. and this song sounds so happy. exclamations and all ! ! ! , and here i am, handing out forgiveness like party favors. :) spill-tainted pages of poetic prophecy

tickle my interest and taunt at my fantasy

gentle new lover, favorite friend

with hidden desire that bothers my conscience

again

like paul and virginia!

sit close to me on the swing

like paul and virginia!

sit close to me and i'll sing

(whisper my name, kiss me again)

i'll sing for you

with you

oh, you

cobalt blue vessels, clean same sex rabbits

old movie romance and a healthy new habit

moving in passion, resting in reason

with a strong tender poet who touches each region

within

illuminatiions that shine on the river

subliminal glances provoking a shiver

palms full of mystery, fingers of magic

greetings so glorious, partings so tragic

like paul and virginia!

~over the rhine

LoVe,

j (dot) s (dot)

p.s.take life seriously because it's serious...or maybe just take life in little half sandwiches on warm july afternoons.

2001-07-05 - 7:36 p.m.

everything that is,

in the small stretch of highway seperating me from home and there i learned we live in a world thatis making a tourist trap of the home of adolf hitler and his mistress, eva braum. i also discovered insecurities are inherent in all of us...and that forgiveness should be handed out more like party favors than nuclear weapons to the people we love.

put your hands out...no, you don't have to be afraid.take one.

enjoy.

-js.

2001-07-05 - 8:54 a.m.

Closer

Hold me closer than that

How'd we get here so fast?

Hold me closer than that

On a dark, raging sea

Ships lay sleeping beneath

Overhead, spinning past

Hold me closer than that

Things we lost in the fire

How'd we ever get by?

Words will never take back

Hold me closer than that

How'd we get here so fast?

Hold me closer than that

~low

it's a bright sunshiny day. i'm smiling...filling holes with tiny sounds.

i love all seven days i've searched. even moreso what i've found.

be brave.

enjoy.

-js.

2001-07-01 - 11:57 a.m.

welcome to suburbia.

i can smell the chlorine follow me into the door. wax up the nostalgia...it’s

something cerebral...automatic. the way i feel about this place. my dad’s.

i’ve been reading in the space between lying down and falling asleep. let me

share.

if your daily life seems poor, do not blame it;blame yourself, tell yourself that

you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for to the creator there is no

poverty and no poor indifferent place.

~rainer maria rilke

i esp. like this passage because of it’s lack of pity. more often than not i

spend my days wallowing in a pigsty of why me thoughts when i could be

treating the meloncholy with something other than bitterness.

...i know no advice for you save this: to go into yourself and test the deeps in

which your life takes rise; at its source you will find the answer to the

question wether you must create. accept it, just as it sounds, without

inquiring into it. perhaps it will turn out that you are called to be an artist.

then take that destiny upon yourself and bear it, its burden and its greatness,

without ever asking what recompense might come from outside.

~rainer maria rilke.

i think sometimes be get bogged down by the conventional definition of an

artist. a house wife has to just as creative on the other side of her brain to

mantain a reasonable level of sanity...that beggs the question, “what is

reasonable?”

well, i’m off. open up the blinds. take a look outside.

enjoy.

-js.

2001-06-28 - 7:42 a.m.

Ever

You ripped me wide open

Wounded and curled

Broke the skin to let my joy spill out

Scarred my world

Like a permanent smile

Wrecked my idea of heaven

Threw open the blinds to let the light shine in

Said, To hell with what you think you know

You have no idea what you're doing

I'm going to teach you to dance

You put a finger on my lips

One hand on my hips

Leaned in and whispered

The music is inside you

I said, The world is too big to love

You said, Love it one bite at a time

I said, I don't know if I can die like this

You said, Close your eyes and let me break your fall

You'll be raised up if you'll just lie down

Sow your love into my fertile ground

I said, There was a time my brother built a tree house in the swamp

How did he do that with just some spare lumber and a hammer

There was a ladder that we climbed

And we sat and looked out into the summer sun

Together

My brother said, without saying a word,

Everything we need to know is right here

There is no other world

We'll never have more than we have right now

Maybe we glimpsed it all in that blurry Pennsylvania sunset

You said that's the kind of love I'm talking about

We can get it back

I can pull for you

And pour myself into your sleepy heart

Like black coffee

You'll wake up and there will be this aroma

Coming up the stairs

From the kitchen

You'll sit up and stretch your arms and think

I can do this

And the thing about this one is

I don't have an ending in mind

~linford detweiler

everyone is leaving and to be enough to fill someone's glass

tall and up would be nice.

The day broke and the morning yawned. I heaved my recumbent self

in the direction of the breakfast table. Those were a nice few seconds.

Every morning I have those lovely few seconds were I forget about all my

failures, friends, and things gone wrong. It is so beautiful. My mind

,for that short while, is no longer analyzing my worthless heart-broken

life, and my instincts are free to carry me to the most immeditate animal

need. From sleep go to eat now go.... BOOM..... remember how worthless

you are? remember last night? Oh that's right! Remember? After being totally

rejected you went home and ate cookies! Worthless! Then I reminded you

of all those other times in life when you felt like this, and how much

more devastating and painful they were, and you felt worse! HA!

So As you can see my mind is a bastard to me. Ah well. The price

is right is on. hmmmm.

~peter hartman

2001-06-27 - 7:55 a.m.

i'm sitting here trying to catch words out of the air to describe this particular variety of lunacy...

s a f e t y.

-js.

grey

the sky is grey

the sand is grey

and the ocean is grey

and i feel right at home

in this stunning monochrome

alone in my way

i smoke and i drink

and every time i blink

i have a tiny dream

but as bad as i am

i'm proud of the fact

that i'm worse than i seem

what kind of paradise am i looking for?

i've got everything i want and still i want more

maybe some tiny shiny key

will wash up on the shore

you walk through my walls

like a ghost on tv

you penetrate me

and my little pink heart

is on its little brown raft

floating out to sea

and what can i say

but i'm wired this way

and you're wired to me

and what can i do

but wallow in you

unintentionally

what kind of paradise am i looking for?

i've got everything i want and still i want more

maybe some tiny shiny key

will wash up on the shore

regretfully

i guess i've only got three

simple things to say:

why me?

why this now?

why this way?

with overtones ringing

and undertows pulling away

under a sky that is grey

on sand that is grey

by an ocean that's grey

what kind of paradise am i looking for?

i've got everything i want

and still i want more

maybe some tiny shiny key

will wash up on the shore

~ani d.

2001-06-26 - 5:59 p.m.

this was genuinely a day of molds. these sheets come as a welcoming contrast to this day. an uninteresting show of hands. i could use a postcard, a phonecall, something. i got sick. maybe it was from all those tanned faces donning masked smiles. maybe the abscence of superficial originality. maybe it was the abscence of you...i can only fake smile my way through small unsaid things. my tummy's rumbling. not this again. i've just got to calm

at night people's tongues loosen. their inhibitions slide down the thigh of guarded comfort...familiarity becomes less of a staple.togetherwewalkclosertogether.

a p a r t w e w a l k f u r t h e r a p a r t. our daytime murmurs become uninhabited statements. a personal villa replaces our silent soapboxes. welcome night. we saved a seat for you between the clammy clasped hands of strangerscomingcloser. we reserved a spot for you on the lips of justmetlove, and on the eyelashes of shy, unconventional beauty. after the sun renders night a mere shadow...following us in this unyielding light - its abscence...

well tripsy, what a mess we've made of eachother, exploring the terrain of our skin...delving deeper and closer to morning. pull back the valance. the sun bleeds itself through the threadbarecurtain. we're left in a tangle. it's dangerous to feel (this), but even more so to be (this).

enjoy.

-js.

2001-06-23 - 8:31 a.m.

thirsty,

hungry. someday even when our thoughts don't fit into words we'll understand and trust won't be so far away.

you might wanna turn your head.

sigh,

-js.

2001-06-22 - 11:44 a.m.

sky blue morning,

there can't always be one last kiss. lets keep the neighbors up with our laughter. decorate the house (however small) with smiles and the smell of coffe wafting above the furniture. let's make a mess in the kitchen. clean it up next tuesday, but this one lets just spend loving eachother till we're weak in the knees.i'll make you breakfast (don't worry no pancakes) and we'll play house.

let's play house.

-js.