g is for green.

there has been trouble on the homefront.

and there is a homemade, croqueted, flower-design bikini top laying on my desk. who knew?

i am learning what most disgusts me about myself.
i am reciting what i wish to say.
i am wishing i had piano recitals as a child.
i am listening incessantly to one artist.
i am praying with my eyes open.
i am getting into the technicalities with diminishing emphasis in spirituality.
faith fatality.

stat for the day: the majority of the people living in third world countries live on one dollar or less per day. there are five million parking meters in the u.s. in use today. if each is fed simply one dollar in the course of a day, the money from these meters could feed five million people.
i'm sorry about your high speed internet. but i think we should change in the space stations for worldwide sustenance.

my mom told me once that i was "such a cause"-and she is right. no effect yet. working on it.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Finders_keepers

she's just waiting for the summertime
when the weather's fine.

jack johnson once told me: rach, don't let your dreams be dreams.
and i thanked him, that jack.



and i went up to old stadium, to the upper steps, on the east side the other day...to trigger a memory.

i then ran my ass off to feel some heat. some good, spring, almost-summer heat.


and i like your picture, mister.

i was going to write about the nice pen i found in the parking lot this morning, but...

i was reassured this morning that someone likes me...despite the cutting comments, absurd facial contortions, and rough humor i manage to emit daily. i found in my mail compartment today a small box, not big enough to get a package/large envelope/misprinted-phone-bill-with-text-manuscript slip, but a gift is a gift. this was neatly wrapped with a hand-written note on the wrapping about a nice weekend yada yada.
well...that story was becoming dull, so i will just clearly state: someone gave me pocky sticks. blessed chopstick-style wafers dipped in strawberry yogurt. i know that these nice little treats sound odd but they happen to be glorious.

and this is my wonder. one of many, simple by comparison, but a wonder all the same.

"when wonder is dead, the soul becomes a dry bone." Bishop William Quayle.

and i want never to feel like a dry bone. ew.

yeah.