03 April 2010


Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

Come, as thou cam'st a thousand times,
A messenger from radiant climes,
And smile on thy new world, and be
As kind to others as to me.

Or, as thou never cam'st in sooth,
Come now, and let me dream it truth.
And part my hair, and kiss my brow,
And say My love! why sufferest thou?

Come to me in my dreams, and then
By day I shall be well again.
For then the night will more than pay
The hopeless longing of the day.

by Matthew Arnold

02 April 2010

chasing steeper hills

to keep our minds focused more on the beautiful day and less on stuff that sucks, megan malawi and i stumbled into an impromtu but grand tour de echo park.

that slug-bug of hers led us up one hill and down the next, ever seeking the next steepest climb and even more outrgeous downward grade. one of those is a hill we like to call rollercoaster road (which, incidentally, google ranks the 4th steepest street in the world), because while it is utterly terrifying - whether it be daytime or night, reaching the summit of that hill, over which you can see absolutely nothing, and can do little more than trust that there really is a road on the other side, it tickles me to hysterics. whilst megan malawi cried out that she was seeing her life flash before her eyes, just before she turned the car around so's to avoid driving over the peak, i was laughing so hard i couldn't breathe.

the hilly byways eventually dumped us into elysian park (where the slug-bug hugged the mountain - even when it was on the wrong side of the road - to keep from driving right next to the precipice from which any faller would most certainly meet his untimely death). while trying not to give the gunfire too much thought, we scouted locations for the picnic we tenatively planned to plan, and found openings a plenty where we just stood in jaw-dropping awe, beholden to the breathtaking views.

when you're down in the grease and grime of the gridlock, it's easy to forget how truly spectacular this town really is, but when up in the hills, looking into downtown, over at the hollywood sign and observatory, or catching glimpses of the sea crashing into the shore, it's impossible not to see that this city really is one fit for angels.

and just as the clock ticked a reasonable starting line for an afternoon of drinking, we found ourselves settling into a local bakery/cafe for a most delightful booze-infused snack in anticipation of our trek back into the hills...


a dream within a dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet, if Hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it, therefore, the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

- by Edgar Allen Poe

01 April 2010


the dictionary has a bazillion definitions, but this one seems the most all-encompassing:

"the surrender or destruction of something prized or desirable for the sake of something considered as having a higher or more pressing claim."

so how do you know which has a higher claim?

when weighing all things, which things get the most weight, which things are meant to matter more? and why is it that just when you think you know the answer, something, some feeling you didn't expect, some something you didn't know was there comes into play and fucks everything up?

how do you know?


30 March 2010

the darkness in immobility

when i stepped off the plane into heathrow airport last november, i had left my life behind. i went in search of freedom from my past, to let go of what had been holding me back, so's to find and make my way on my own.

and i did.

i spent two weeks getting through europe on my own, kicking my past to the curb every step of the way. i had the time of my life, and in reading my journal from that time i feel refreshed in the memories of those sanguine days and nights.

but now i'm stuck. i can't move. i'm still searching for the answer(s) i didn't find there. or anywhere. i try to be patient, waiting for someone, anyone, to tell me what's next, but i know only i can know, and can only know when i'm meant to know. but not knowing makes me fucking nuts. and forces me to...

detach. disengage. isolate.

i. am. (un)comfortably. numb.

i am still listening to the same playlist i made in the weeks between europe and christmas. i'm stuck there. it still feels like my now: "i want to change the world, but instead i sleep." "i get lost in the beauty of everything i see." "what the hell am i doing here? i don't belong here." "you reach for the sun, afraid of the day." "i can't stop and catch my breath." "you don't see me." "paranoia is in bloom."

sometimes i force myself to make plans, and spend every second between the making of the plan and its fruition dreading the company of others and knowing i'm going to have to attach, engage, integrate. and i'm not sure which is worse: faking it for them or trying to explain why i can't.

change is hard. it's unsettling. it's risky. and it's lonely. i feel it all around me, in every breath i take and hold, in every direction i look, in every breeze that passes me by. i just don't know where it's going. or when.

but in all this darkness i never lose sight of hope. and i keep my faith that the when and where is a beautiful time and place, that in the end it will have been well worth this struggle.