Sunday, June 26, 2011

|pineapple trees|

Seven stolen bracelets
Sit slung about my wrists
As I strain to recollect
The night’s unspoken thesis.
“We try to chase away the shadows, but
We’re chasing shadows of ourselves, and
Before the night is finished, we
Will have chased ourselves to hell.”

(day one hundred and fifty-six)

I’m stuck in a stupor. Stuck, struck dumb and immobile.
I know what I need to remedy the rut- but,
It’s not forthcoming, and I fail at pursuing.
Short and sweet.
Because the best things in life are the most short-lived.
Bittersweet when they leave, though.
[just the drunken ramblings of the briefly forlorn]


Monday, June 20, 2011

|la vérité|

De dire que
je vous aime
serait un mensonge
parce qu'aucun
mot n'est assez
pour la vérité
de ce qui est
au dedans de moi.

(day one hundred and fifty)

I never could have guessed that I would be right here.

I have a full-time [if non-paying] job, the beginnings of a career that I love, and enough people that I sincerely care about that I daren’t count.
I weigh in at less than I have weighed since my pre-adolescence [206 lbs. this morning, if that will tell you something] and I tanned for the first time in my life today.
I spent the day [my first ‘day-off’ in three weeks] trying to convince myself that I needn’t worry about making something happen today.
I’m an auditioning actor [when/how did that happen?].
I ride my bike lazily to the Silversun Pickups, She & Him and Devotchka and pedal furiously just to feel the wind in my hair and an unbuttoned plaid.
I’ve been denied a role because I “look too much like Robert Pattinson.”
I found Bella- she’s dating one of my many amasing friends, who also happens to be a wonderful actress.
And there are rumours of a half-hatched plan to sneak into VIP Access clubs in Vegas as a celebrity couple.

I’m still broke. Still single. Still stranded.

But I love life, and there are grand things on the approaching horizon.

Bien faire et laisser dire.

Viens avec moi?

Friday, June 17, 2011


this heat sinks
whirring and blurring
the lines between the sky and the sea
of asphalt that stretches to the edge of the earth
before us;
we wait in it,
wait and bake in it
and stare at the dancing white blocks
of sun-cracked paint that mark the way-
and we want for nothing,
save the promise of the horizon.

(day one hundred and forty-seven)

Happiness is remarkably contagious. Which reminds me-
There’s an item on my list that I’ve been thinking about the last few days: List 100 Things that Make Me Happy. It’s a gorgeous day, and a perfect time to start that list.

  1. Freshly brewed sun tea
  2. Bike rides with best friends.
  3.  Blues guitar riffs.
  4. Unnecessary drinks.
  5.  Unexpected phone calls.

Five a day seems fair, no?

There are a handful of people that I can’t get out of my thoughts today- some that I haven’t seen in ages, others that I’ve seen rather recently. I wish I could talk to them right now.

Viens avec moi?

Thursday, June 16, 2011


For those that cannot,
We must dream.

(day one hundred and forty-six)

Last night we premiered the Director’s Cut of my first film.
There is no feeling quite like that.
With a handful of select individuals, we sat and watched our work play out across a golden coloured wall, and in the dark, a love was born.
I always dreamed that I’d want to do this for the rest of my life.
I’m doing it.
And I do.
Want to do it forever, that is.
Je l’adore.

Viens avec moi?

Monday, June 13, 2011

|a summer prelude|

The crickets chorus calmly and
clouds dance across the sky
while I lose myself quite fully in
their reflection in your eyes.
The sun is slowly slipping and
we sit soft and still
so that we can revel in
the world’s nightly theatre, filled.

(day one hundred and forty-three)

There are certain things that sneak up on you - time, emotions, and mischievous cats.
Phone calls. Missed connections. Forgotten friends. Packages in the mail.
Drawers filled with letters from people who no longer write.
The weather turns green, and then abruptly white.
Hot and blaring, it stares you down and never blinks.
Milk sours in the sun, and ten feet away, tea is born into it.
Bees busily bumble from bloom to bloom, making honey that you’ll never taste.
And we will never be more content to simply lay and waste.

Viens avec moi.