Out on my run today

Out on my run today I ran past a baby bird. It must have fallen out of the tree. So small and pretty. I looked at it closely and the bird opened his mouth for food. I put it on the side of the road. On my way back I tried to feed it a bug. It didn’t work so I smashed the bug up into little pieces. That didn’t work either. I put a leaf on him to keep him a little warmer. Wishing I could have done more but I was terribly late for work. It’s raining out…I’m sure he died of cold and hunger.

sometimes, we artists lose our

sometimes, we artists lose our belief in things momentarily. we are dry leaves, ground to dust on well travelled roads. the wind has its way with us, only it doesn't feel like floating. i saw my friend reid saturday night. i miss him. i always have really, as we've never been afforded the circumstancial luxury of spending much time together. since then, i've been obsessing about the fact that i don't travel enough. haven't really in years. i wonder, what the fuck is going on? who have i become? where has the time gone? will i be lamenting the same woes at forty? reid and i met in barcelona. i wish i was there right now. eating falafel and drinking beer in the sun. living.

It is difficult to sleep

It is difficult to sleep when gun fire goes off not to far from your house. But it is really hard to sleep when the second round of fire sounds like a semi-automatic weapon and you leap to the floor of your bedroom. It rattles me to think that their might be people really close by that are full of bullets. I don’t think I will sleep now. I think making a law that says bullets costs $1000.00 each is a brillant idea. Then people would use them with more direction and thought.

I love living alone. But

I love living alone. But why must I contemplate every noise in the middle of the night. You would think that I would have figured them all out by now living here for the past three years. Instead I lay there in bed thinking about my escape route and plan for calling 911 when the burglars crawl in through my window. Today I did a hand stand in an extremely small heated room. I did not however try the head stand.

it is late and i

it is late and i should be asleep. i tell myself this fact often, as i am still reading in the tiny hours of the morning. but somehow, my body is reluctant to listen. perhaps the world needs me awake at the moment. wondering about the scientific facts that make the moon look so terribly vast and endless as it did tonight. it looked like a giant, yellow, bird floating through the sky. impetuous. i think of the REM song where he sings about the moon. "what if there were two, side by side in orbit." i think of jake vander zanden and his cancer. his sickness that must feel as vast as the moon. as overwhelmingly large. i think of the unpredictability of life. how it is so often a thin sheet of glass, perched tenuously atop the ledge of a twenty eight story building. teetering. oh, how precious our moments~

Everything is dull. I spent

Everything is dull. I spent the evening recording cello harmonies for a friend in a big house with bad furniture and no gummy bears. And as I think about tomorrow I wish someone would hire me to take care of cellos all day instead of childern. The cellos wouldn't fight and they certainly wouldn't try to bite anyone. Black kitty has an infection on his nose. Stripped kity has worms. Grey kitty is just fine. I wish my neighbor was vet like at Sarah's house.

i sat in a park

i sat in a park today writing lyrics. a song about a man who builds a boat in his front yard. a symbol of the coming escape from his unhappy, miserable life. but it remains a skeleton. and then he sets it on fire, and watches it light the dark sky. the wood, finally alive though not at sea. in the park, a young couple was on a bench eating ice cream. laughing. kissing. an old man walked with his grandson. yelling, the boy ran up the hill, pulled a handful of yellow flowers from the ground, and handed them to his grandfather. the world is full of these things. full of them.

today, i walk in the

today, i walk in the kitchen to make lunch, and people are arguing loudly. i begin pulling things from the refridgerator so that i may eat. i feel uncomfortable, but remind myself that i should not feel uncomfortable; that it is only conflict. why are we all so afraid of conflict? i am reminded of the the personal challenges in my life. i am reminded of how terribly difficult it is to communicate honestly sometimes. how difficult it can be to remain open. in moments, i leave so that we may mix more of "I Am Not In Spain." i hope that we can share our thoughts openly in ron's basement. i hope that the songs will speak loudly enough. but today, i am sad. i wonder, "how much should i share with these strangers out there?"

tonight, the rain falls hard.

tonight, the rain falls hard. the sound of it running off the roof above my windows is somehow delicate and timeless. the tree, moving in the wind. the car tires below. soon, i will be one of them. moving over cement to the lights of the city. i will stand out in the rain at the interpol show and pass out discs. i am not looking forward to this task. i will be alone, and cold. sometimes, i think i must be absolutely insane. for what [if anything] ever comes of this? ahhhhhh but i believe. i really do. and i am obsessively driven. and i am pathetic. i shouldn't be concerned about myself in the rain tonight, i should be concerned that the march tomorrow in San Francisco will draw lesser crowds because of the water. alas, it is only water. today, millions of people the world over, showed up to send their hearts to the sky. to washington. saying "no, please no. we beg of you. please." and then i go to indymedia.org and look at the numbers of people who were there today. my eyes bring their own water. i visit other sites and feel rush of hope.
peace action.org
not in our name.net
united for peace.org

there is hope. great, immense,

there is hope. great, immense, sprawling, eternal hope. i remind myself to breathe deeply and have faith in the universe. the oxygen pulls in to rest. moves out. and then again. poets against the war ~aren't we all against the war? hold on dear people, hold on, for today is the day of love. the world could use more love at the moment. last night i read garcia lorca, who was killed by the spanish government during wartime. oh my dear lorca, i beg of you to rise up and shake loose the sick ideas of these people in power. i'm losing my humor.

then i spend an hour

then i spend an hour trying to get the film i rented to play in my computer. alas, how i detest these fucking machines. i had been looking forward to the moment for days. buried beneath a sea of blankets in bed, lost to the floating lights of the celluloid world. it has become such a rarity that i have a night at home, and i allow myself to leave the guitar sitting. fucking computer. oh my dear Lorca, save me with your ramblings~

"ruedan los huecos puros, por mi, por ti, en el alba
conservando las huellas de las ramas de sangre
y algun perfil de yeso tranquilo que dibuja
instantaneo dolor de luna apuntillada."
~federico garcia lorca

i finish my dinner and

i finish my dinner and go for a walk. the streets are quiet, save but the sound of tires on wet pavement. a train whistle in the distance. a plane breaks the gray sky, and hums off to new places. an enormous metal bird, with perfect eyes. i stop, and stare up at the mechanical beast, wishing is was going somewhere other than around the block. i pass the houses and peer through their bright and blurry windows. i wish i had a house. i see a red light on in a room, and it makes me miss that duplex in davis on arthur street. oh the hours i spent in that garage making music. oh the hours. ray carver would understand this moment i think. he would tell the story of a thirty year old man who went for a walk after dinner and remembered another time. and then the man would walk home and make tea. sit in his room and listen to the rain. falling. falling. falling.

again the insomnia is here.

again the insomnia is here. at my throat. like snakes. fucking snakes.

listening to superchunk today. yesterday

listening to superchunk today. yesterday as well. driving up into the hills, the windy sun hitting the earth, i am struck by what a truly great band they are. their music is springtime to me. eternal spring. i remember listening to 'no pocky for kitty' at lori vasiliou's house for the first time. it was 1991. we lay on the couch wrapped in each other's arms. and then it was 1992. i was in davis. riding my bike through the young town, 'on the mouth' in my ears. sometimes, i wish i made music like that. effervescent and lighthearted. happy and celebratory. the sun calls out to me. i listen.

since hurting my ankle doing

since hurting my ankle doing backflips on a trampoline, i have been locked into the inactivity of my house. no running, no cycling. just limping. it has finally begun to wear me down, as it has been a month. i clamp my teeth together wishing so badly to be up there in the hills moving through the trees. legs on fire. sun on my skin. animals off in the distance claiming their world. oh dear ankle of mine, i send you love love love love love.

this morning i sat up

this morning i sat up in bed to feel the world shaking. the voice of the earth is loud. sometimes it whispers, but more often it shouts. the earth is not inhibited by us. as much as we may attempt to shape her, she has an iron will. oh, so many things have happened. this world of mine, ever shifting. but today is the birthday of a great man. benjamin jahn i extend my arms. like the earth, you are true. a giant.