if_you_read_this Bespeckled Please don't be alarmed by what you see here. The things I write about on blather are only shadows of layers of myself -- flaking off and falling to the ground so the real, refined me can keep on walking forward. If you only knew how I feel about you you would know that no amount of SoCal could ever tear me away from your face, and your hands, and your heart. 090310 ... unhinged know that i am ready to let_go of dreams if that means i can have a solid reality of love or my dream is a solid reality of love 090310 ... kerry please write back. 210813 ... unhinged know that history is repeating itself 210813 ... raze ... it's proof that language transcends space and time, because wherever you are, these words are with you now, and the past is alive in the present, soft and warm and full_of_filling. 210813 ... epitome of incomprehensibility You are valuable, and not in a boring transactional way. 210814 ... ovenbird We are connected, in that strange way that people can be, across space and time and history. There is a way to be known without ever seeing each other’s faces. We make our marks by firelight. The aurochs of Lascaux. Handprints from the Late Pleistocene. Faded linguistic paintings all over these red walls. We do this, instinctively. We mark the darkness with our presence, making an outline of our being. When I was small I took a pen into a hidden corner of my closet and wrote my name there, my age, a tiny history of my existence. We want the future to find us beautiful, fascinating. Like the ancient Egyptians, we want our names to make their way into mouths that have not yet been born. If you read this, touch the blown ochre of my words, and place your palm against the imprint of everything I was. 260611 what's it to you? who go blather from