ad delirium

every love i could ever and did never dream of envelopes me without permission. every night i sleep so peacefully, having expelled as much energy as i have been given during the day, as if i was still in a womb.

for the past several days i've been swimming in a lake formed 12,000 years ago from molten magma and volcanic eruptions. the bluegreen water is clearer than bathwater and surrounding the entire lake is a rainforest completely filled to the brim with wildlife of all kinds, including some potentially dangerous animals and insects. when i sit in the shallows near the edge of the lake black and white striped fish, completely unafraid of me, nibble on my skin. they don't shy away when i extend my hand.

me in front of an incredible old tree in the aforementioned rainforest

as i write this i am staring into the face of a mother sunbird sitting on her two little eggs in the nest she and the male sunbird have been building for weeks. no one taught her that this is what she must do, it is just happening. i am grateful that i can witness such a beautiful, simple thing.

life finds a way to exist. though it is crushed out by the night and by unimaginable obstacles it still finds a way.

MY life is finding a way.

at this moment i couldn't even conceive of wanting to give up and that, in this day i have been given, on this day to which i owe everything, is enough reason for me to be happier than i have ever been on any other day.

i don't think about tomorrow and i don't think about yesterday. why would when i have this bird keeping me company, this beautiful sun goddess hugging me and a breeze so lightly playing at the tops of the trees?

A Day Called Zero - A Day Called Zero EP (1996)

this album keeps getting played even when i have countless other things to listen to (see: infinity).

something about it has caught me like a mermaid in a fishing net. the mood of the album is a color, or palette of colors, that intrigues me - the sounds are dark, eerie, hauntingly beautiful.


bright reaction

it smells like cigarette smoke mixed with a hot spring breeze

out here on the verandah i sit on a thin futon-shaped piece of foam, covered in a white sheet on which dirt has been scattered by wind and stray feet

i just woke up from a nap in which i listened to spiderland through speakers

the song "good morning captain" woke me and sent my mind spiraling back to a day buried deep in my past

something about the guitars and the atmosphere created on that album makes me feel like it has integrated itself into the fabric of my being somehow

i don't really like listening to it often


an album that accompanied me through the final horrific days of my most recent job was this:

polvo's exploded drawing

every song is weird, asymmetrical, at times humorous, then endearing; one moment the chorus of jangly guitars is intense like punches to the stomach and then the next they regress into an introspective calm. upon listening for the first time you might get seasick, or, it will be the most enjoyable, wild ride of your life.

for me i can say with every ounce of honesty and truth in my body that this album has saved me from many a sad day.

they are actually from a city only about a half hour away from the one where i grew up, a place i thought was (and still think is) the squarest and most mind-numbingly uncultured place on earth, a creative and topographical dead zone.

i fucking LOVE YOU, POLVO

the sun slants in like a golden sword as the odds grow shorter

i am in the great country of AUSTRALIA right now. it is hot and the sun is dangerously strong. two olive-backed sunbirds construct their dangling nest off of a clothesline each morning and i watch as they pay my close presence no mind. at night three or four geckos crawl slowly across the ceiling of the verandah in the candlelight, then stop at mysterious intervals and are completely still. kangaroos of varying sizes stare me down from afar and, when i have been deemed not a threat, continue about their scavenging and general mischief. bright green flies and the tiniest bees i have ever seen along with butterflies of every color constantly fill the air with their delicately-humming, swirling presences.

my time is spent reading misanthropic stories and poems and

strangely enough

not thinking

when a thought i admire does come across the horizon of my mind i try to write it out as coherently as i can so a future self, if she so needs a helping hand, can find the little encouragements i like to put out for her

like cookies little kids put out for santa

or something like that


when one ceases to think one calms the storm of thoughts, passions, emotions that usually battles itself out during every waking moment

you'll find that the cessation of thought is not equivalent to the cessation of life

lay down and immerse yourself in sound! become enraptured in the ideas and themes and art that bring you closer to a constant dream state, that place where life suddenly feels less like a re-run of the same cardboard people saying the same cardboard things and more like an endlessly vast field

RUN with a fury to the highest peak of your consciousness and never look back