i think i'm in love.
unlike any other previously experienced.

the kind worthy of:
eddie money. lionel richie. otis redding. air supply. elvis presley. glen phillips.

love.
actually.
good movie.

i have zero ideas on how to proceed.

just go with it. yes?!


knowing my modus.

let's see how i mess this up.

it’s somewhere between sunrise and truth or dare games
played by children who run naked outside in snowstorms
when dawn knocks on the door
raging blood and cuts

paralyzation

you are a shock of red

burning bright in a sunrise looming within twilight
i see the blues in your flames

dusting your self off
trying to not scream
all the while your face
showcases your pain

you are me

i once was you.

There is vehemence in the aphonic.

Sometimes the words that matter, carry gravity or lackthereof depending on how you look at it, elude me. I allow myself to get mired in weaving words and language when all I need to do is utilize my powers of brevity.

I've recently found that while my linguistic skills are still somewhat muddled, I am able to get down to the roots, my roots, through painting. I am no aficionado, prodigy, or expert, and others who might ever have a chance to see my painterly side, will probably think it's total sh*t, but it's cathartic to me and I find beauty in my lack of skill.

My lack of language. My lack of training. My lack of expertise. Understanding and embracing the awkward of something new again. I haven't taken to canvas in years. I never felt my skills were good enough. I never felt good enough.

The messiness, the abstraction, layers slathered on, then peeled away. Imprints that are there if you look closely and not too critically. I've never considered myself an artist or artistic for that matter, but over the course of this extended roadtrip, I've found that maybe I can release some of what I want to say and scream onto a canvas. The canvas doesn't judge. It just is.

Painting my heart has been a release. A damn good one at that.

MISSING

My oldest nephew's long-term partner and mother (I'll refer to her as H) to their 2 year-old baby boy was officially declared as missing this past week. She abandoned/deserted my nephew and their son shortly before Easter without saying why she was leaving or where she was going. She. Just. Left. No explanation. No nothing. No one seemed to take it seriously other than a handful of people including myself, and my nephew. Then a few weeks ago, H (or someone else acting as her) filed for joint custody of their child. She didn't show up to court. One of H's relatives heard from her on May 5, and H was in Baltimore, MD...that's pretty far away from northwestern, PA. No one has heard anything from her since then. And she certainly didn't show up to the courthouse last week for the custody hearing. Nothing.

There is a rumor circulating around, saying that H joined a fanatical cult - I am not going to name rumored cult. If she did join this cult, I wonder if she left on her own volition with all her faculties of mind and body, or was she heavily influenced/suggested to leave by one or some members, or was she taken by force. I don't know. I don't know if said rumor is true, nor do I know if it is untrue. Whichever way I look at it - independent desertion, kidnapping, cult, etc. - it's all horrible and wrong. I've been worried about H for several weeks now. I've also been worried about my nephew and their son. I've been trying to help my nephew by being available to him as well as helping with research on legal assistance, aid, and Pennsylvania's laws. I've offered to have him and his son to come stay with me here in Cleveland for awhile and have also offered to go to Penn to help them out. My nephew has declined this last offer of mine - at least so far. I hope he takes me up on helping him out some more, though. I can't even imagine what he's going through right now. What their son is going through.

And now H is officially declared as missing. It's about time.

This is some scary sh**. I'll keep on praying and meditating for my nephew, his son, and H. I hope she's okay. We are all worried and wish for her safe return. If you are of the praying and/or meditating sort, please add them to your thoughts and/or lists. We need all the help we can get.

Punks

While I was out adventuring along I-40W today, it was all I could do to contain my intense need to goGOgo. "Go" in the sense of flight. That whole fight or flight concept. You see, I-40W takes me to I-30W, which also takes me to I-20W, and then finally to I-10W.

What is off of I-10W? Tucson, Arizona. I miss the desert, but moreso, I miss my non-sexual soulmate - my punks. I haven't spoken or written to him in quite awhile. And I know that the next time we do talk, it will be like we never stopped talking. Gosh, it hasn't even been a month, but it feels like an eternity.

I miss the superconnection. The Level.

When we are together we don't even have to talk to know what the other is thinking. It's as though as each brain synapse (mis)fires, we read the language before it is ever verbalized or even displayed in body language.

This is the Level.

Not many friends could get through some of the crazy stuff we've been through together unscathed, but somehow we have both managed to forge ahead and emerge relatively unscathed and a stronger force to be reckoned with...I don't recommend you test us, though. You probably couldn't handle it.

I know I will never have another friend like him and I am willing to bet he won't either. Over ten years of friendship, and I cannot imagine my life without some semblance of his presence in it.

Punks, you are my heart.