eye witness

the time is now 1:01. a minute ago it was 2:00.  lovely. and you may ask yourself, what is this girl doing up? the question is invalid. you would find you and that self much more well type informed if you asked a better question, such as, "how much radiation has this girl taken in the past two days?", " do microwaves really cause that much damage?" or "who let this kid out of her play pen?!?", cause I'm out. sometimes you just can't convice people that playing with you could be fun. so you can sit and stare at them while they don't play with you, or you can venture off to the open world despite the lack of friendly types. sure, I know, it's a lot less fun than playing with your friend, but it's a lot more fun that staring at your friend while they do their best to ignore you. besides, staring is creepy. and if you're going to be creepy, you might as well add lonely to the mix, it's a matchy sort of type. oh and by the way, there just always seems to be a reason to open the microwave, so you'd better unplug it before your brain goes numb.

hooking up the bungee cord

Too few or too many? What a dilemma. The worst is over. I took that worst and I smashed it. Right into that tree over yonder. Then I integrated it and smashed it some more. When it comes back around I'll either frame it or burn it. What else would you do with an old worst indeed? 

would you give a face like that a ticket? 

no. 

but you should have.

oh deceiving.

faith

It's very late. Or if you want to see the glass half full, rather early. Things are jumping around from too few to too many. But it's beautiful. The foo fighters are keeping me company while others nap. We never did get the corn to pop. But it turns out I'm pretty good with a telescope.

I'm so tired of days that feel like the night

actually it's quite the reverse for me. I love my night time.

"'It's me and the moon', she says."  It's been in my head all day. Well I've got no trouble with that. There are these singular souls that stick around for years and years to see you through all the stages. And one day they tell you about yourself. It's surprising to find that someone actually knows you. Knows the parts of you that are the best, and hardest to know. It's not that I want to be hard to get to know, it's just that I don't trust you. And I'm a little too easy to hurt. It's gotten over before you know it, so you never know it. And what you don't know, can't hurt you. But it might hurt me. I'm always a little nervous when I eat applesauce. You never know what you're going to get. But chances are it won't be chocolate. What a pity.

too much too soon

Woah, two posts in rapid succession. I don't know how to answer your questions. I don't even know what they are. But this I do know: I'm craving desert like nobody's business. Yes, desert. Not so much Arizona style with the pokies and the poisons. No, more like my desert, sagebrush and sunflowers. Greys and greens and golds. No friend, you don't know that desert with it's black dunes and deep caves. The water is there, hundreds of feet underground. But you'll find the waterfalls if you know where to look. The owls come out in the evenings. The sunset shows you the beauty of seeing something in it's best light. And once it's down, the stars repaint it all in silver and blue. Then the night music starts. There isn't anything else like it. Let me go and I'll get you a picture of it.

no more sleep

I've had enough to last a life time. 8 hours is just too much! A third of your life maybe, but not this chickens. I'm saying no. My foot is down. I'm claiming my right to an extra hour and a half of life today, tomorrow and forever. You can keep your pillow time. I'm getting up. I'm staying up. You and your mom can go put someone else to bed.

curiosity killed...

  

   This is important, really important. I want you to understand, that the most important things are usually the unimportant ones. I found a new spot today. There was some running water. a little place to jump across, thanks to an obliging rock, and a tree. A big tree. Now the secret that cottonwoods keep is a little star on the inside. Really, break it at the joint and take a look. It's a little "hello" to you from me.
    I can't convey to you the wonder of a well timed storm. A spread of lightening or a thundering boom gives me good reason to draw breath. With air clear like that I feel freer. Dark grey just makes it all greener. Next time you're cutting down  a cottonwood call me. I want to see if there is a star in the trunk.