Taz

Ted is approached by Taz.  Taz has something on his mind, so the two start to discuss.  In a time where everything seems to be oh so civilized, Ted is strongly mistaken.  It starts out easy, no worries or frets, but the silence is interrupted by a consistant alarm.  I had things to do.  I was not in the position to give up all the things I have worked for and move locations.  My mind was torn between the right and left; which way to run, or should I run at all.  Look to my right and see a quiet body lying softly above the sheets.  Turn to my left and see the thing I cherish most.  What to do.  Come on, Ted, it's not that hard to do the things that are necessary.  So what do I do, I decide to stay put.  There between the sun and the moon, both equally as guiding, making it difficult to choose which one to lean on.  So I lean straight back, turning the pages as if they were a piece of art, closely examing every aspect.  My state of exclusiveness is now disturbed, therefore I finally make the move to relocate.  Traveling down the hard wooden case like I was entering into the darkness, when in reality, I was leaving the gloom behind and receiving the light of protection.  I was forced to exit the vault of learning, but I did not lock the door behind me, for I will soon return to regain the gem that shimmers in the Hall of Dorman.  It seems as if I were meant to stop trying and let the wind and rain shower over me.  That is exactly what happened.  The violent twister settles into a fast displacement of water moving centripitally.  This movement does not last long, but the damages take their toll.  Taz and Ted finished their converation, and Taz quietly lays to rest.

Cream and Curls

Thinking back on those times is quite a trip.  They come easily and are hard to send away.  So many things were said and established right there on the bridge, always at night.  The best moments came from early morning dips wearing all clothes.  It is funny to realize just how funny it was.  Ted and Stowe.  The two seem undetachable.  And studies have shown that they are just that.  Problems always find there way in the conversations between those two.  Facing the stars, discussion turns into words that are not spoken, only understood.  Taking shots just to get her to crack a smile.  Ted might be the only one that can fuel the jets.  And he knows just how to do it.  The questions and security seem to match as if coupled at Serendipity.  Fate is believed in, but not left trusted.  This is exactly how things become complicated.  Not just complicated, even a little uncomfortable.  They try to keep it casual, Ted struggles with this concept.  He tries to make hot chocolate without water, knowing that the sink is broken.  Forcefully he ducks his head and runs.  He already knows he is running into darkness.  But he pretends to see a light, a light that is only existant to outsiders.  He arrives at the light only to realize that its just a candle with a  feeble flame, waiting for the slightest gust of wind to blow.  Ted knew all along.  Opportunity arrives in August, Ted decides not to return for a while, keeping it distant.  Distant slowly becomes nonexistant.  I guess you could say things have changed, only for the candle.  Ted feels as if he walked the dog without a leesh, he forgot it on purpose, but blames his busy schedule.  All is buried under the bricks, until one day a thought is entered into his mind by another perception.  He does not take it lightly, actually almost too heavily.  Ted goes back to where he buried the letters and rediscovers those unspoken words.  The black and white horse rounds the curve.  Riding on the back is Stowe.  The big question now is, will Ted approach?  or will he return to the darkness where he once felt comfortable.

Momentum

The morning came early, the night stayed late.  I was okay with that because I came prepared.  But first, I had to prove myself once again.  It did not take long to take the quiz with honesty.  But all in all, I had one thing in my mind, and it wasn't going anywhere.  The information that I had learned was sticking tight.  So I took off on my way.  I got there pretty quick; the color orange always keeps me protected while I am traveling lightly.  Show up, sit down, feel the pressure, gather my utencils, as well as my thoughts, and prepare to do work.  And thats exactly what I do.  I start to roll, roll like a river.  Granted, every river has it's rocks, so I hit mine. And what do I do, skip over it and let the tide flow.  Flow as if the river has a mind of its own, choosing how to present itself to the public.  BOOM.  Everything looks familiar, so familiar that all I have to do is transfer memory to lead to paper.  I'm rolling fast.  Momentum carries me home.  Home to where the breeze plays tag with the trees, where the Bear is a part of the family.  Momentum feels good.  Momentum is right with no conservation.  88 is a disappointment in my book.  I'm done.  Ted finishes up with another hard fought challenge, and came away the victor just as he always does. 

Perfect

Flawless: To be without fault, able to stand alone, as an example. The paragon. Sought after, striven for. NEEDED. expected. Killed for. To be without blemish. My Beautiful dark twisted fantasy.

Miley

yes it's true what they say
I throw my hands up
everyone moves in unison
in this one moment we are united
in this purpose we are one
politics can't do it,
religion can not do it,
love even falls short
noddin' my head like yeah
pure agreement we all know the truth
it's revealed to us in ways that could never be said
we are one
it's a party in the U.S.A.

Teds affliction

ted is afflicted. Like all afflictions ted has had to learn to fight it his whole life. There will never be a cure and Ted struggles daily. Ted's affliction is SHS (sweaty hand syndrome). Although, this may sound innocent enough it is not. It has held Ted back in life. SHS is a multi-faceted disease. It comes with other disorders hand in hand such as AHSD ( awkward hand shake disorder) and RWTHYHBTYWBGO ( really want to hold your hand but thinks you will be grossed out). In the avenue of love Ted has had to be an innovator. the typical first step of love  ,holding hands, is not an option for him and has had to rely on his laser sharpened wit and his dasterdly good looks. Ted is a sufferer and he extends the hand of love and fellowship to all those that suffer.

there's the patience

Sitting there, waiting on the set order of alignment that I have been waiting  oh so long for, time seems to come to a hault.  Looking around trying to find an object to fix upon, I realize I'm lost in the transition.  The thought of being lost is never easy to take in.  So I decide to up my awareness and focus diligently.  From all the things I was searching for, I knew what I eventually wanted to have.  And a good thing happens, time speeds up.  The line begins to move.  Ted.  I smile.  Turning the center as if it were a battleship taking fire.  There it is.  The patience has paid off.  A feeling a bliss covers me; I feel good.  I stand next in line.  Accepting and hearing the sounds that flow from the side was something that made me feel as if it were okay for time to stop.  It is not always needed, time is not always in the positive.  In some moments, time is void.  These are the best times.  Here I am, Ted, now being served a basket full of hot delightfullness, understanding this is when a coffee table becomes more than a room filler.  That beyond these constrictions lies warmth.  Warmth that is only received through anticipation.

To blog? Or not to blog?

As a young adult, living in a world of social cultural changes, the blog has always been a distant but relevant part of my life.  It was always an interest of mine to join the blog world and hope that someone would appreciate/enjoy my thoughts and progress through each day.  This spark was finally made a flame when I became aware that a close friend of mine had started her own blog.  The fact that she let herself be known was very inspiring.  So inspiring that I am writing to you about it as we speak.  Yes, I have to admit, the lovely Anna Jamieson is the one who opened the door.  Since she opened the door, she just may be the only one that can close it.  So an opening thanks to you, AJ. 

shootout

Back to back we stand opposed

We both wait for the clock to strike 12

Our hands are clenched

Our muscles are tense

We know this conflict will not be resolved

We both know how this will end

We do not stand in a dusty street

A tumbleweed does not roll between us

The children have been in bed for an hour

The door is closed all is quiet

The clock strikes 12

Ding ding ding ding ding ding

Ding ding ding ding ding ding

We rustle the covers

Not a word is said

We close our eyes and go to sleep

The old west had the right idea

It would be no less hateful

To just shoot each other in the street.

fishermen

Me and Boy used to get up before everyone. The mist was rising off the surface of the lake. It would be a lie to say that it was cold those summer mornings but it was not warm. I would put on my oversized sweatshirt and rub the sleep out of my eyes. He would sit considering the rods picking the one that would fit perfectly into my small hand.  I would carry the light cushions we would sit on to make the next hour more passable. He always reached for the heavy gas canister. Early in the morning I would never think to reach for it. It was too heavy and the only thing that got me up was the hope of a fish. The dew was still heavy on the grass. My cheap wal-mart tennis shoes would be soaked before I even reached the dock. My toes becoming pruny and cold in the early morning grey. As I sat in the green beat up rowboat, he would begin to coax life out of the engine. Prime, wait, pull the chord no life, add some gas, and try again. Slowly a weak purr would begin in the bowels of the engine. Slowly the purr rose to a growl then the engine roared to life. We would slowly back out and then turn slowly avoiding the tangle of weeds that would surely choke the life out of the engine. Once out of the inlet we would pick up speed. Flying around the lake. Sitting on the bow of the small green vessel, my eyes tearing up from the brisk winds. We would soar, turning to that perfect spot where all the mornings catch were hiding. Unselfishly, he would put the bait on my line. We never said much. Those mornings did not require words. We were in a space where words would have been foreign. On occasion he would look into his long years of life and give me his small pieces of advice, “ its ok to look but never touch”. Not a bite. We soared back. We were successful hunters. I could never stay disappointed for long. I knew the next morning we would be back. We would conquer these waters waiting capture what lay beneath the morning mist. 

hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil.

Mornin rollin

The strange mixture of warm sunlight and cool air makes for an enjoyable morning. Stepping out of the dank darkened rooms, I stretch my legs for the first time that day. The cold muscles tense from inactivity but slowly they fall into line. Its better to walk quickly. I always tend to be late to this class. Others walk around me , but their existence is hardly tied to mine and I can not see them. A glance at the watch and the tired muscles move a bit quicker with necessity as the motivator. The soft rubber on the groupd does not add any kind of rythmn to dull the monotony. The thoughts of the weekend’s romantic encounters mix with the fantasy left over from dreams. That girl in the dress. What if that dance had turned into something more. Did she drink? Why did I not offer? Did she like me? Would she like to come back to my room? We could just talk over coffee. The fantasy of dream wears off as the cool breeze slides over the summer accustomed skin. Dreams fade into reality and monotony sets in.