This Is Familiar

Picked up a camera and felt like a photographer again (and not a photo editor). Saw. Shot. Asked. Wrote. Shot.

Flash Settings! Flash Settings! Recycle Time!?

...Aaahhhhh.
Next year, I will manage nothing but a camera.

Footprint In Your Mind

I've made a lot of new friends lately, and I wouldn't like them to come here and get some oddball idea of me. I am not, as I heard mention today, sitting on a throne of broken dreams (odd enough yet?)

I'm feeling very good about myself. I'm learning that in conversation, sometimes the best approach is just to be blunt. Being subtle is fine sometimes, but I could never pull it off. So here you go: I'm feeling good.

In Continuity

I would like my post to pass,

so I can continue to walk.

Requiem: A Response

Looking back to February 15th:

First of all, I confess that I've never read all of Duino Elegies. I loved the first line, read probably the first three elegies in comprehensive manner, than fell asleep through the eigth. I think there are nine total, which makes an entire elegy skipped. The fact that I don't know how many there are total does not inspire me with confidence (edit: I just checked, there are 10 total).

Second, I always thought a requiem is something that revisits, but it's actually a musical composition honoring the dead. I'll be generous: I was half right.

Anyway, whatever I thought it meant, today I've come across it. Requiem. Regression. On February 15th in my mind the two were one, and although it's taken me a month and a half, I realize I'm somewhere else entirely.

Lately the feeling in everything has gone out. No, I should say that everything I've done has felt like a repeat. Repetition. I've lived the same quarter and the same spring break before. Today is different. I don't feel the same familiarity--and yet, I don't think I've discovered a new way to be.






A few months ago my friend and I adopted a kitten. It was a confusing affair, we could never decide what to name it or even where to keep it. Today I had to tell her it was dead.

It was hard for me to say the words, and I wasted time talking about other things while I built up the courage. Earlier I had called and asked her to meet me, and she gave me the specific time. She arranges her days in specific events and arrives to them right as they begin, but I'm usually late. That isn't always true. Sometimes I go early and arrive before she does. I think I get nervous. But these times I'll stay back and fool around because I won't have anything to say, and when I get there she'll be upset that I'm late.

We are close, but not very. It's that semblance of closeness that comes from seeing someone too often in too short a time, and in fact I know very little about her. These months together did not bring us any closer. Thankfully, after today I don't think we're any farther apart. Today I had to tell her it was dead--but I'll not use those same words here.

Complaining In French

Je suis fatigue, j'ai une maladie. C'est ca, merci.

(fait d'amore avec moi? S'il vous plait? Does that make sense?)