what should happen

another late night. i should be asleep. but if you are like me, you can't turn off your mind. i am tired, my body needs sleep. i won't do it though, yet. i spent 8 hours of my day driving from massachusetts to pennsylvania, most of it through oppressive traffic. it wasn't a total loss though. i reconnected with some old music, chatted with a long-time friend that i've known since i was 5, and took some photos that interested me along the way. a good part of the time, i sat in silence, and thought a lot. about, what should happen. ok. good.

the sycamore trees

i've got idea man,

you take me for a walk, 

under the sycamore trees. 

the dark trees that blow, baby.

in the dark trees that blow. 

and i'll see you

and you'll see me. 

and i'll see you in the branches that blow,

in the breeze.

i'll see you, in the trees.

i'll see you, in the trees.

under the sycamore trees.

— little jimmy scott, twin peaks: fire walk with me

the first time i heard this song was when i saw the movie. you can't download it on itunes, but i'm sure its out there somewhere. you can hear the notes escaping from his throat, his vocal chords. you can really feel them passing through flesh and combining with air and making heartbreaking sounds. by heartbreaking, i mean that it makes your heart hurt, not of sadness or joy, but of pure emotion and passion itself. ok.

i feel bad about this, really.

hello. i remove my glove, so that i can smoke this cigarette. yes, the unfiltered kind, because my lungs, and every other internal organ in my body, are made of titanium. however, eventually i put this glove back on. i slowly take a comb out of my inner jacket pocket (no one keeps them in the back pants pocket anymore) and i style this hair one more time. until the next time. then, in accordance with the wishes of my master (and coincidentally, psychotherapist) i put these gloved hands around your neck. i'm pretty sorry about this, but is isn't my fault.

this hair made me do it.

ok.

crown victoria

hey, ford crown victoria, get the fuck out of the snow. you are going to get ill and frankly i don't have the time or inclination to take care of you. you are old and sick already, disadvantaged as a relic of the american propensity towards huge cars that suck. you are also named after queen victoria, who i think was the longest serving monarch in british history. hmm. maybe this is some sick revenge joke by our UK friends, saddling us with a horribly designed car that won't seem to die or go away. don't worry, detroit will continue to sucker the law enforcement establishment and provide you at incredible deals to every police department who needs you. don't work too hard though, your life as a taxi in some small coastal new england town awaits. ok. good.

power

yes. the power is on right now. this red light is indicating that this is indeed the case. ok. good.

night

another late night in new england, but this photo is from seoul, so whatever that means. my views on the solitude, loneliness and epic nature of night, of late night, are not earth-shattering in any way, but i do feel a special happiness in the early hours. there is something about the quiet at this time that envelops you and holds you, when you are alone. it also seems to amplify most emotions. a mid-summer kiss at 2am in a vacant city street seems to have more significance than one walking out the door to work. words written seem to have more meaning, i imagine always being spoken in a whisper, i love you, i think about you constantly, can you get me a glass of water? there are times, when going to sleep is almost cruel, unless you can dream of the comfort of a darkened room, and love, late at night. ok.

complex

things are complex. they are intricate and require thought and logic. passion can often get in the way, no matter how hard one tries to legitimize it. i hate this notion. i am searching for a way to rise above the complexity, to see it as something unto itself, maybe something beautiful to be appreciated and embraced, but not feared. maybe i am kidding myself and acting like i'm 10 years old. maybe this is a way to keep a certain naivete, and not getting caught in a world of "already knowing the answer" and not doing what you want, or need. ok, i've decided. i'm going to revel in the complex. otherwise, i might as well not exist. ok. good.

the system

hello. how are you. i am well, thank you. yes, i have been away, and i have missed writing. especially as i have been reading a book about writing, and the process that one might go through. this is in the form of haruki murakami's "sputnik sweetheart."

above is a beer i spent the last week drinking in seoul. as you can see, it employs the "fresh taste keeping system." i think i need one of these in my life. more from korea, later. ok.

what

a memory of a time. of the simplicity of being happy. of knowing what feels right, and doing whatever you can to make it a reality. its another late night in new england, but in my mind i'm looking at this sun. ok. good.

where it all started

hello. i currently live in new england, where halloween, thanksgiving and christmas were born. it was 32 AD when JC ate a turkey while wearing a stormtrooper costume he got from under a tree near Boston, everyone knows this. america flexes its global might during christmas time. we power huge electric displays of joy and use our rightful share of the worlds limitless supply of energy. we stand in lines at 4am in order to consume, our attempt to somehow fight a recession that we alone can pull out of by shopping for flat-screen TVs. we tolerate the pro forma holiday film that several hollywood stars get stuck with each year (apparently there is a drawing, and some poor sucker loses every year, this time it is vince vaughn and reese witherspoon. tim allen's career never recovered.) and inflate the box office numbers as if dollars somehow equals quality. this is just one part of christmas however, i'm not saying that it is all as depressing as this.

there is still the charlie brown classic. ok. good.

the man

hi. there has been a lot of chat lately about abraham lincoln, his "team of rivals", barack obama's admiration of him, etc. this is amazing. i have read 4 books about lincoln, 3 non-fiction and 1 historical fiction (gore vidal's book). despite my lack of faith in destiny, diety or otherwise, it is hard to believe at times that such a person happened to be elected president at a time in which the country was on the edge of total collapse. he was a masterful politician who was able to allow everyone to think he was some country bumpkin all the while manipulating everything behind the scenes to execute the war and attempt to heal the nation. i can see why george bush probably thought they were kindred spirits, except lincoln did all the work himself, not his vice president. in addition to his political mastery, he was a sparse succinct writer, who constantly went over his speeches and letters to communicate the most while saying the least. read "lincoln's sword" to learn more about his writing style, and "team of rivals" to see a political master in action. ok.