its been a while...and it feels good to be back.

Me: Have I ever told you about my dream to live in a store front?

Him: Yah. *pauses* It goes with your photography.

Me: How is that? Because its like a studio space?

Him: No, I mean how you want people to look into your life.

none of these are mine:

reminder:

Eye to eye
Thigh to Thigh
I let go....

dating

talking
participating in group activities
becoming friends
holding hands
touching shoulders, knees, and so forth
spending time together in non-sexual activities
hugging
kissing
petting with clothes on
petting with some clothes off
engaging in genital stimulation
making commitment to relationship and plans for future activities
engaging in intercourse

blackbird

creative at work...

Zizek/Lacan

Anxiety is brought on by the disappearance of desire.

Anxiety occurs not when the object cause of desire is lacking: it is not the lack of the object that gives rise to anxiety but, on the contrary, the danger of our getting too close to the object and thus losing the lack itself.

The fundamental point of psychoanalysis is that desire is not something given in advance, but something that has to be constructed-and it is precisely the role of fantasy to give the coordinates of the subject's desire, the specify its object, to locate the position the subject assumes it in. It is only through fantasy that the subject is constituted as desiring: through fantasy, we learn how to desire.

new ideas...

this makes my heart feel better.

Geraldine

Football and...

huh

“Man is the only animal that blushes, or needs to." - Mark Twain

hanging with Jazzy...

some new ones...

There was a time...

Sonnet 17
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms 
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; 
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; I love you because I know no other way

In which there is no I or you 


so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand 


so intimate that when you fall asleep it is my eyes that close

Pablo Neruda

Fernweh

Fernweh  n

     1.  wanderlust

thankgiving 2004

i miss you.

i have been making collages. i really like the shape my hand makes.  

i am starting to paint...im no good, but i like it none the less...the tears/rain are blue in real life...

new

there are so many changes in my life right now its overwhelming.

it all hit me last night and like a giant wave it shook me.

but im showing up the best i can.

that place...that one time...