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r u n n i n g a s f a s t a s i c a n.
 
images courtesy of robert james stump


2001-07-22 - 123 a.m..1
2001-07-17 - 920 p.m.
2001-07-17 - 810 a.m.
2001-07-17 - 123 a.m.
2001-07-15 - 1001 a.m.
2001-07-12 - 551 p.m.
2001-07-11 - 638 a.m.
2001-07-10 - 901 p.m.
2001-06-22 - 9:18 a.m.
2001-07-08 - 732 p.m.
2001-07-08 - 125 a.m.
2001-07-07 - 1253 a.m.
2001-07-06 - 307 p.m.
2001-07-05 - 854 a.m.
2001-07-05 - 736 p.m.
2001-07-01 - 1157 a.m.
2001-06-28 - 742 a.m.
2001-06-27 - 755 a.m.
2001-06-26 - 559 p.m.
2001-06-23 - 831 a.m.
2001-06-22 - 1144 a.m.

 2001-07-22 - 1:23 a.m.
On the way home, this car hears my confessions.
I think tonight I'll take the long way.
This weather. The wind outside is bitting.
It has left me tired and exposed.
You've been asking me to bleed.
It seems these kinds of questions come too easy to you now.
Your lack of shame comes naturally.
I should not be surprised. I should have seen it sooner.
You expect me to apologize for things that you've done wrong.
While you're inciting others.
You're owning up to nothing and I wish that I was gone, because you're not going anywhere.
This damp air is fighting my defroster.
My sighs they ring victorious and fog this tinted glass.
It's clouded and so is my head.
The hint of these new tears are sharp I try to hold them back.
It's useless. I am useless against them. They are beating me with ease.
On the way home this car hears my confessions.
I think tonight I'll take the long way.
~dasboard confessional
you wouldn't believe me if i told you.
love,
-js.

up

 2001-07-17 - 9:20 p.m.
Her bare feet brushed against the callused wood floor, as she drew them up against her chest.
Hope,
I left the door open for you to come in. Iíd watch for you but my hands are busy mending what recollections of your paleturningseasons face Iíve 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 Iíd try to make more
Mistakes next time. I would relax. I would limber up.
Iíd 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 Iím one of those people who lives sensibly
And sanely hour after hour, day after day.
Oh, Iíve had my moments. And if I had my life to live over Iíd have more of them. In fact Iíd have nothing else
Just momentsoneafteranother.
Instead of living so many years ahead each day.
Iíve 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 Iíd 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 wouldnít make such good grades, except by accident.
Iíd ride more merry-go-rounds. Iíd 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.

up

 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
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.

up

 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
us
impossibly.
~charles bukowski

up

 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.

up

 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 thatís okay. fine by me.
ďRegards, 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,
VincentĒ
~vincent van gogh
-js.

up

 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
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
Hold me closer than that
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...itís
something cerebral...automatic. the way i feel about this place. my dadís.
//
iíve 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 itís 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, ďwhat is
reasonable?Ē
well, iím 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
up
up
up
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
d
o
w
n.
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.