At 2013’s end, like a raging forest fire I burned everything in my life down and started over in 2014 as something new. I spent this year fostering new growth, and becoming reacquainted with myself. And it’s been one beautifully eye-opening experience.
Read More365 project
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"The Church says: the body is a sin. Science says: the body is a machine. Advertising says: The body is a business. The Body says: I am a fiesta." —Eduardo Galeano
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A friend once told me "Denver has no soul." Until then, I hadn't been able to articulate exactly why I didn't take to the city and ever since and in every comparably sized city I visit, I find myself searching for its soul, its unmistakeable aura and personality like the feeling you get when meeting a stranger for the first time, that primal sense based only on feeling and emotion and in almost every one, it is unquestioningly undeniable.
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Could I say it's been 16 years and I hardly think of you anymore? Could I say I've forgotten so many of the sad details of your life that helped to paint my own in such vividly dark colors? Could I say I've forgiven you for robbing me of a life without a father, the opportunity to open my heart to you and spill 16 years of pain, now doubled, the sudden way you changed and redefined my life, or the way you didn't say goodbye?
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My fingers follow the roads and highways of your back,
reading it like a map
Every mole and freckle, a rest stop
On my way to the scenic bridge of your neck,
An overpass with breathtaking views
Breaking there to get my bearings
To will the flashing of my life
Before my fingers’ eyes Jump, jump, fly
and I find them alive on the rugged trail of your jawline
tip-toeing through rough terrain
The land moves easily here
And my fingers sway in alliance
As they travel north and linger
On the rim of the hollow of your eye
The universe
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What can you tell me now that you couldn’t one year ago? Could you tell me how your reflection in the mirror has changed with such fervent subtlety that you hardly recognize the person you once were? Could you describe to me the palpable feeling of the shattering of such long-held presumptions of yourself? Could you tell me how fucking beautiful the silencing of such familiar doubts in your head can be? Could you tell me how your smile is an accessory you rarely leave home without?
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Blanket me with the soft shroud of the setting sun's fiery mantle of clouds before I get too lost in the cold dark of the universe, before the moon soothes me to sleep with its stories of brave explorers who long ago hovered sweetly above its lonely ground, before my fingers become raw with lucid memories of the earth's thorny skin.
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You would be 54 today, Dad. And I can hardly fathom it. Sometimes, it feels like the only language I know is time and we commune in years. I can still remember when we'd speak in days and hours and minutes, but it's been a while now, for both of us.
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“Our hearts beat so loud the neighbours think we’re fucking when I’m just trying to find the nerve to touch your face.” —Andrea Gibson
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""I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. It said that Nothing Ever Happened, so don't worry. It's all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don't know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever. Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all. It is all one vast awakened thing. I call it the golden eternity. It is perfect. We were never really born, we will never really die."
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It's rare that a day goes by that I'm not reminded of my hearing loss. There are so many things said to me or around me that I miss. I constantly feel like I'm on the outside of inside jokes or simply a quiet observer to a world I don't completely understand.
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Do you remember the first time I told you I loved you, sweetpea? I meant every word of that sentence. I meant it with every force within me that propels me forward. I meant it with the self same honesty and intention I feel when I hold your jaw in the palm of my hand, when I get my fingers tangled in yours and when I touch my lips to your earlobe.
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The city swallowed you whole, but you climbed its walls to spite its fervor, digging your fragile claws into the merciless concrete, yearning to escape and inflate your lungs with the unstained air. Run like wildfire, baby, before they gauge your eyes from their sockets, before the hollowed savages press their sawlike teeth into your penetrable flesh and tear, tear, tear.
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It devours me until my heart aches in longing and grief. You were like a mesa too vertical to climb. You were the smell of desert rain I couldn't inhale enough of, elusive and solemn and captivating in your intangibility.
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"Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness." —Katherine Henson
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"Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it." —David Foster Wallace
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As we were driving through the city a few nights ago I said "I feel lonely in this city. It's cold and unwelcoming and I don't have any ties or connections here." And it's true, I feel displaced in Denver, a fact I keep hoping will change in time.
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"Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence." —The Little Prince
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This chick is so fun to work with especially when I'm saying things like "Dammit, Angela, you can't do anything right!" and "I don't wanna see your face in these pictures again! You're ruining everything!"
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I couldn't find your mouth in the darkness
or your waist to put my arms around at midnight
and I can't know what it's like to be a man like you
loving the woman clenching her fists until daylight