Always go swimming

I was going to do this on Tumblr. Fuck that. Something more private, something for just me. I'm doing all this journaling these days... most of it is private, some things aren't. I want to make something out of all this writing I'm doing. The more I produce, the more that comes out. It's like opening a rusty valve. At first you can barely get a drip, but the more you work at the knob, the more you twist it and give it elbow grease, the more it gives. Turning the knob. Drinking water.

The people I love can look through this because I love them, and what's mine is theirs, and I share myself because I love them.

I thought about this, I thought about friendship. You tend the most beautiful, complex, precious plants in a greenhouse. I can see you inside, I can see you tend them. I know how much water each plant takes, how you prune them. I see which plants you cover for the winter and which you let die, I see which ones have thorns, which ones are your favorites. Sometimes you take a plant outside and show me, turn it around, point out the buds, how it's shaped, the bends here and there, you say, "Here's this plant I love, take a look, let me share it with you."

Here's the point. You can't force yourself into someone else's greenhouse. You can't barge in and say, "I want you to show me everything, God damn it, let's be close." It doesn't work that way. You have to wait. Here's what you do: take your favorite plant, or take the plant you have with the most thorns, or your most boring plant, take any one. Hold it out to this person and say, "Want to go on a walk?" And you share with that person, you show them everything about that plant to the best of your ability, and you ask for nothing else. Don't ask for them to show you anything. Don't ask into their greenhouse. Everyone guards their plants—they're precious. All you can do is be open, and hope that by being open it will encourage others to be open too.


I want to make something out of my journal pages. I love reductive poetry—as in, take a newspaper article, black out everything except for a few words and you have a poem. If you're good. My journal's too private but some things aren't, and I want to make something out of them. You'll see. We'll see. I'll see.


I started making Reminders. Reminders? Reminders. I'm learning all these lessons and I want to remember them. Every night before bed I make a card about something I learned that day. So far:

*Remember to LISTEN
*Remember to SEE THE MAGIC
*Remember to SAY YES
*Remember to BREATHE
*Remember, PERSPECTIVE always helps
*If the moon is ripe, HOWL
*Remember: don't WORRY YOUR FLOWERS (don't over analyze, don't worry things to death)
*Remember... be GOOFY. Be yourself, the right people will respond (this is hard for me, I'm goofy as hell but it so rarely comes out. Stop trying to be anything... not everyone will want what you have to offer, but better that than to offer up a bland and diluted version of yourself.)
*Ask people SILLY QUESTIONS (What would you do if you won the lottery? What's your favorite sound in the whole world? Your favorite taste? Where would you go if you could fly? Invisibility or flight?) Really Listen to their answers--you can learn so much

I took off my mom's ring recently. I'll write about that another time. Remind me.

On that note—ask me everything. I have my own journal for very private things—this is semi-private, for friends, for people I love. Dear reader, you don't have to pretend you haven't seen any of these posts. Dear reader, ask me questions. Dear reader, engage me. Dear reader—that's the point.

Hello, friend. Here are mountain laurels. I love them because they smell sweet and remind me of childhood. Here is honey suckle. I used to pretend there was a kingdom inside the bush in the front yard. Here is my hand, I would love to take a walk.

And there it is, the Very Bad Beginning—FUCK! What a ride the last week has been. Living, learning, loving, learning to love, learning to live, living to love, loving to live—I miss any? Yup. Goodbye!