I'M FINDING IT HARD TO BREATHE

With each new day, I progress, despite the feeling of being in a momentary regressive state.
It hasn't been easy. It has been rather hard, but enough time has passed that the plagues of my past are all but a distant glimmering light left on a fading dark shore I departed from a long time ago. I think of them that way because they are my existential anomalies; they are life-giving tragedies and they are responsible for me; for who I am. What are we but the products of our decisions? I can't say I could have saved myself from the places I went and the people I met there. I can't say I wanted to or that I wished I had. I'm not going back there, but I still awake disoriented at times, struggling to shake myself back into now; finding it difficult to exist presently, but only in a fleeting moment. By nature, I never take the easy way out. In my youth, that route was pleasingly deviant, but now I understand my inability to travel straight from A to B as a means to yield a more compelling result...



I write for no other reason than to please myself; to remind me that there is purpose behind the seemingly nonsensical stream of thought that runs at a continuously increasing pace through my mind. My stated ramblings are not provoked, they just surface as air seeking to exit liquid. My words are for you, whoever you are. For you to take as you will; not to appropriate, but to appreciate--to observe from your own vantage point. I relish the thought that the meaning behind these notions I write are dependent upon you, my audience. In knowing that, I understand that I am saying things to you that I can't ever know. The meaning you draw is your own as you relate my words consciously and unconsciously to yourself and your life... and I hope it makes you a better person. This whole bit might just be me defining my love for writing. It is my favourite medium. Nothing has ever felt more my own than my words. And yet, I will give them all away, just as the breath that flows through my body exits me, as plainly as it came, leaving only to stimulate someone else-- existing only to cultivate life.

...

HERE'S TUESDAY

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WITHOUT HOMIES

I STARTED READING AGAIN

...not that i ever stopped, i mean, I read all the time... street signs, parking tickets, people's facial expressions when i talk to them, menu's...

I'D LIKE TO FIND MYSELF HERE AGAIN

This should make for a more coherent piece of mind...

There was a time when ambiguity was a way of life; when solid connections with other people weren't necessary, or even possible, for that matter. Looking back, it seemed the only mortar between us was the stuff of an expensive, apathetic adolesence that we either allowed to evolve into love and need for one another, or didn't.

I moved past that years ago, and the places in between there and now. I think the first time that realization surfaced was here... in san diego, with the girl I have known for 16 years of my life, my oldest friend, with whom i have more in common than I could understand in any observable thought. I love her. Maybe we can find the time to get away for a while again, to see a different side of things, to turn heads in a someone else's scene, or just to wake up in the same room with the same thought on our minds..... waffles.

PPLN, NKKA

Travis, you're great. Just great.

BIKE BOYZ

i love you, guys.


i might be the only homie who hasn't made love to the pavement in the last 8 days.