2001-08-01 - 3:45 a.m. - and then the photoalbum opened itself and oured out like a flood drowning just about everyone that got in its way except for maybe the priest and a couple of cats and the milkman who was busy taking a nap on a hill. take more naps on hills.

i am happy that you are my friend and that we can sit and listen to records and talk for hours. i know you have so many fears faacing you in the next year, but you know as well as i that the beauty of your almost home will so much more exciting and important than anything that might be a burden to you now. i worry maybe that your counting your remaining days too closely, guarding them like a miser guards his gold. i remember being in such similar shoes to you once. only my move was only a couple of hours up an interstate, not across an ocean. i wonder if you are trying to hold on too tightly to people and things for these final moments and maybe you should just treat these last weeks like every other week. when i went to school three years ago i held onto tightly at the end and left with a skewered perception of how my life in dayton really was. just enjoy yerself, now as you always have, and never look back. just don't. when yer gone, write us letters so we know you are well but don't look back, then when you are home we can once again sit and talk about our hopes and fears and possible futures to the soundtrack of a retsin album playing softly from the record player. your friendship is invaluable to me. i wish you the best. and after you left we were all smoking outside and the kitten ran halfway up the stairs and i thought it was such a beautiful moment because that cat is becoming so incredibly bold and that is beautiful. and i remember when i was so young and being bold was such a different and easier thing to be that it is now, you know? like when yer young you can yell rude thins to the men roofing yer house and you can hang from raised garge doors by your hands and you don't think anything of it until somebody else tells you you're wrong. we are all born into this world bold like lightning and then learn that we are as common as rain.

never let go of all yer impossible dreams. when i was younger i stuck a screwdriver into one of those old electric typewriters, or maybe it was an ancient word processor. regardless it was some strange mechanical device that needed electricity to function because when i stuck the screwdriver in, a bold act in and of itself, it shocked me in a way that i can't remember now but i rememer being very afraid at the time. and now i wonder if i knew that the electricity that held me together was slowly being drained and replaced with blood and muscle and that was some sort of attempt to put it all back the way it was. like maybe every stupid, semi-suicidal thing we do is someway to replace something that we know we lost. like when i was young and grabbed onto the garage door of our old house as it was rising to the ceiling of our garage and then it stopped and i was just hanging there and all of the neighborhood kids just stood by the street and watched me dangle. i would imagine that it must have been a rather bizarre sight and i would imagine that maybe i did it because i knew i was getting older and my dreams were becoming less and less real and maybe that was my one chance to fucking fly.

let yer parents in the elveator with you.

be forever bold like lightning and kittens.

never clean yer home.

watch The Gift, it was directed by Sam Raimi and it is a beautiful, beautiful movie.

read to yer children.they are our future.

make gifts for people you respect.

go to sleep.

xoxo

listen to: boy sets fire, bunkbed nights, retsin, flashpapr, lifetime, hot water music, wolf eyes, saturday looks good to me.

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