I asked the universe in my dream word. No answer came except the conscious passing of pavement. An insistent buzz interrupted me. What? I could feel the frown forming, the confusion, the being pulled from dream to a buzzing phone. In a daze I reached for my phone and groggily answered without seeing who the caller was. Yes, hello? My voice croaked from early morning dryness. Tea and Sleep and Tiny Obsessions.

From the Church of the Toasted Coconut Doughnut. Letters to the Universe and Other Friends. End of Summer Blues and What Not. I feel this is an apt, if not a bit nebulous, metaphor for the current state of my inner life. For the good of living things, I am going to have to make a plan to claw my way back up to the air.

A great heap of uncertainty. Some of it of the steaming pooh variety. I am losing my mind. Travel, but not really. I was looking for something in my saved Xanga files the other day.

Putting bitter coatings on very sweet pills. You point to a box,. Call it a house for grief,. Of walls is all you get. You gesture toward a moment,. Red as a stoplight, and call it. A cutoff, as if the heart. At some point, you must. As if it is a scarecrow,. As if loss is an easily fooled. Bird, as if feelings. Can be fed to the wind,.

I freeze and burn, love is bitter and sweet, my sighs are tempests and my tears are floods, I am in ecstasy and agony, I am possessed by memories of her and I am in exile from myself. How different would our world be? Love speaks all languages, crosses divides, reaching into the depths of darkness, restores us, breaks us, frees us. If it meant freedom, would you love with all of you? Would you love all of you? The first.

Miss Freckles has been an important character to me, in more ways than her youthful spirit could ever know. Hell maybe I was even important to her. We were important because we were important to each other. We were all we had. Two star crossed characters in this journey of a journal in the book of life. If you have never had a young beautiful lady attempt with all of her heart to devotedly, dedicatedly mop up beer that she has spilled in your lap, you, my friend, have not lived.