Monthly Archives: November 2013

now what

It’s easy to sit and imagine what I’d like to happen.

It’s harder to do, because there’s an element of risk.

Sitting here is quite safe, and really, if it doesn’t work out,

I can later say, “But I didn’t do anything.” And it’s true.

So, since I’m sitting here, I’ll think about the things

I want to do, or at least the things I’ve considered doing.

At some point, I’ll wonder what the first step is to do

one of these things, but there isn’t any harm in wondering,

because I haven’t done anything. Yet.

I haven’t moved from a general area, and I haven’t tried

something new

so I don’t have to have any anxiety about that.

All I actually have to do is…nothing.

I don’t have to do anything.That should be a good feeling.

But what happens if I don’t do anything?

Nothing will have gotten done. I could write

to you

about the things that I might like to do,

but what if you don’t like them?

What if you don’t want to do them?

Well, that’s something to think about.

I haven’t done anything yet, that’s for sure.

I’m starting to worry about not doing something.

Not getting anything done.

I can’t remember what I was thinking I might like to do.

I’m definitely getting nervous about doing something.

second impressions

I introduced myself to you twice. It was embarrassing.

We were all together, and they said your name, and I looked at your hair and your smile and the way your eyes lit up. I remember something like later you said you were nervous about the whole thing, but when I think of that now, I realize that there isn’t any way for you to understand what it was like to see you. After the group introduction, someone introduced you individually; I mean, someone said, “And here is so-and-so…”

We shook hands and said “Hi” and “Nice to meet you.” I didn’t know what else to say.

Later that day, the same day, I stopped by and acted like I was looking for someone, and I said my name and put out my hand. Your eyes did that thing, and you smirked when you said, “I know; we’ve met.”

A thing like that had never happened before to me, so at that point, I was out of words. I mumbled something like “Have a nice day” and I got the hell out of there.

After that, we didn’t see each other a lot, and after the second introduction, I was nervous around you. I didn’t even know if we’d speak again, but I really didn’t know how I could’ve said anything anyway. It was like one of those shows.

We were in two different places altogether, but I can’t quite figure out how to tell you what that first day was like. Your eyes, your smile, your hair. The way you turned and waved to everyone, and no one.

I’m sure to most of them, it was just another day. But I introduced myself twice for a reason, and there really isn’t any other way I can describe it.

hard to explain

They’re not doing anything; they’re sitting around and talking about stuff.

Yeah, but what else is there? What do you want them to do?

I don’t know, but they should be doing something.

I don’t know what that means–should they play a game? Take a walk? Why do they have to do anything? How is talking not doing something?

I like it when they do stuff. I don’t know how to explain it; they shouldn’t be just sitting around.

So, you want them to…what? Go from one place to another? Why do they have to travel? Do you not like what they’re saying?

What they’re saying is fine. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Why are you insisting?

I’m not; I just want to understand. I got a lot out of it. They were talking about normal things, everyday things, and I got it. I understood. I didn’t think they needed to be moving for it to be better.

I’m not saying that.

No, I know that. And I’m not saying you have to like it. It doesn’t matter if what they’re saying means something to you. It’s not like I wrote it, and I’m upset because you don’t like it.

I didn’t say I didn’t like it.

I know…what if they said the same things, but they were moving while they said them? What if the same things were said, but at different points, or in different places?

I guess that might work better for me.

Well, there you go. I thought you didn’t like what they were saying.

It’s hard to explain. I guess I wanted them to say it differently.


I wrote a lot of quotes down. They were inspirational.
The quotes were scrawled in the back of a planner.
They were free of context,
so I applied them to what was Happening to make sense of what was going on.

I felt much better.

The words floated in space until someone great put them in order,
and it was really the only way that I could process that time,
because without the words, what else might have happened?

I didn’t pay attention to the dates in the planner,
and the numbers under the days didn’t really matter, after all.
Thank goodness those quotes were there, though.
I had to write them down as soon as they were said,
because it might not ever make sense unless the words were arranged that way.

that’s the thing

I never understood how to just begin. Something would bother me.

Something would make me worry about another thing that may or may not happen.

A lot of time passed.

TheseĀ things converge; these things swarm.

These things stop other things from happening.

Lookers-on can’t see these things, but they’re inside.

We think about these things, and suddenly they have a lot more power, these things.

They swim around inside, and now we’re not sure where these things came from, but oh, they definitely might be, these things.

I read about other people’s things, and sometimes they write or they say to just do something. Many times they just go somewhere, even without leaving, and things happen for them. To them. It’s frustrating, not knowing how to do a thing.

Say a thing.

Write a thing.

Be a thing.

I know about some things, but I wonder if those things matter. Can I do something with those things? What will become of these things?

I’m not sure I need anything. I’m wondering if the things I’m doing will lead to other things.

What’s wrong?


Something must be wrong.

There isn’t anything wrong. That’s the thing, this idea of things. Anything can happen.

It probably already is.


I keep thinking about battleships of words


fleets of sentences

Delivering that blinding truth and the


that only arrives

when it all comes together.

Arms spread wide,

salvos of unimaginable Light

speak for us when mere



small, quiet town

In a town like this, we can take a walk and let the silence surround us
We can hear each other breathing
Pines and firs line the streets, and our soft footfalls quietly match
We sit together
We look out of the window together
Index fingers loop through coffee cup handles

“You should write.”

I lost track of how many times you told me this. I didn’t believe you, and I still don’t. I don’t know what it means to write. I only know the feeling that I get when it’s quiet, and I’m thinking of you, of us, of the future, of the little things that happen that make each day what it is. The truth is, happiness comes and goes. To be able to appreciate each day is what I want, and I want to share that feeling.