frankly, i’m not even sure how to talk about this.

i’ve always wanted a job that i could work via telecommuting. now, i have one. :)

heh. wrote this elsewhere tonight and when i finished and went back to re-read it, decided i really needed to set it here as a reminder. so. i am.

nothing about him was real. but she didn’t know that at first. at first, he was fascinating in the way loosely-bound wrappers of fiction are; stranger than life and bigger, too, until you looked closer. when you looked closer, you could see the gaps between reality and make-believe; they hung all blown out, loose, and flappy in the wind of reason.

heh. three year old flashback.

that’s the name of this nifty little coffee shop i’m enjoying lately.

yup, i’m having them. host is moving servers around so this place may be a bit sketchy for a day or three. in other news…

this last week is a bit odd for the changes happening in the head.

for those who do not know, Rumi was, among many things, a poet.

empty things make me cry used up and cast aside crushed and wadded reminders laying dirty and forgotten in gutters blown along midnight streets ever notice that nothing of the world ever reaches such state except what we create one never sees an empty flower a disposable tree a used up river i realized today watching people along a busy street humans are never empty never used up never useless, for all we often think otherwise