I need a new sketchbook. I feel empty and without purpose. As though since I am not in the process of recording the things which my eyes see and the things which my ears her, and most of all, the grumblings and rumblings within my ribcage are being lost in this vast space before me. It is snowing again, and fresh and new all over again. Yet rather than understanding that it is new and clean, it seems like the new whiteness is merely a farce. Doesn't anyone else see it? All it really is doing is covering up the dirty snowflakes which have already died weeks ago, from yellow dog pee, and leaking car oil, and the torrid rains that nearly flooded this place. The freezing cold temperatures don't help matters at all either. Instead of melting, and washing away down the drain, the impurities remain frozen in place, frozen in time, frozen from movement, frozen from progress...I was watching this show on the tube today - they spoke of a crime committed in Wichita, Kansas where 5 persons were abducted from their homes, after being assaulted and abused in every which way, the 5 were led out into the middle of a snowy snowy white field, where they were then executed with a gunshot to the back of the head. The sound of the policeman's voice is burned into my head as he spoke of arriving at the crime scene, finding the victims' blood around their heads' soaked & melted into the clean white snow, and where it stopped flowing because it had frozen in time--like a flattened red icicle.

Someone has shot me, long ago...and I cannot wash away the blood due to winter storm conditions, all that shit...blood, sadness, guts, sin, brains, feelings, they are all frozen in the snow that is falling right now -- 6-12 inches is expected tonite.

"So...This is where it all begins, on the grass, under a tree, in the shade, overlooking the water, the people, airplanes passing overhead. I guess one could call it my new life. For the first time since arriving in this new place (not really new since I was here two years ago & once before that), I have nothing left to busy myself with & no money to spend to keep me occupied otherwise. The last month I've passed over questions like, I wonder if I should begin listening, if I should begin seeing again, if I should just begin...& so I sit and say, from this moment, it all begins.


It saddens me to see the people walking by hand in hand engrossed in casual, effortless conversation because I know that this is one thing which I do not possess...but then I also know this is what I have asked for...not the loneliness but rather the time alone. & so for this I am content.


In so many ways, this time, this place is not at all what I had planned & I welcome it because I know that it is God taking control & placing me in the setting where my character & person can be shaped & molded...& for the first time I am not figthing against it.


I do not know why exactly I've decided to at last run towards the things which sustains me instead of trying so desperately to deny its existense.


My hair is growing longer again & I wonder if this reflects the change in my heart as well. Years ago, I remember cutting my hair as some need for freedom and change...as if it was somehow weighing me down. As it comes back, I feel a certain serenity & peaceful protection. Maybe cutting my hair affects my brain cells...too much sun exposure causing me to make unwise decisions. I actually feel like writing again, like drawing again, like breathing again.


How could it be that I have failed to see all these people for so long?


(Moving to a new spot to lie on the grass & close my eyes for awhile.)




Eesh...laundry and dishes still waiting..."

I wrote this nearly 2 years ago when I began my online adventures in a place called Diaryland. It seems appropriate and a good reminder now as I begin again fresh and new. As clean and invigorating as the snow that is falling right this minute. When will this horrid weather stop. Little one's were not made for places like this.