when i decided to continue my prior practice of blogging with no secrets, because it feels better when i don't hide things from myself or the world

so this is how things are.

i walk. i take notes. i walk. i take notes. i eat lunch. i feel lonely. i chastise myself for feeling lonely. i feel lonelier. i read. i walk. i chat. i sit on my window sill. i listen to rufus wainwright. i miss home. i miss anna. i miss azia. i miss anna. i cry a little. i feel lonely. i walk. i eat dinner. i feel cowardly. i want to talk to yoel. i don't. i convince myself he would never want to talk to me anyway. i feel stupid for thinking about him or anyone at all. i become angry with myself for not being independent enough. i accept that i'm a Romantic, and that i can't help the way i feel, or what i think. i shower. i sleep. i wake up to badly drawn boy. i walk. i take notes. i walk. i take notes. i read. i eat lunch. i spend time with friends. i feel comfortable with myself. i watch some AD on the beach. i walk. i sit on my window sill. i listen to feist. i cry a little. i miss sean a little. i hit myself for taking him for granted. i want to apologize to him. i wish i talked to yoel. i convince myself he doesn't talk to me because he doesn't like me. i feel alone. i think. i think. i write. i decide i should be braver. i decide i should make an effort. i don't. i will.

these past few days have helped remember the lost fact that i'm a poet at heart.

"when is james going to realize that he's a poet, only disguised as a scientist"
- joseph vanderway.

a Romantic poet. i spend most of the day internally, thinking; idealizing situations, reliving and emphasizing past events. i have all of these ideas and my emotions are swayed by how they play out in my head. sometimes i forget to come back from my imaginary settings and i just about walk into something, it's true. often times it's less than easy to draw the distinction between reality and what i've manifested behind my eyes, and it drives me crazy.

i wish i were an artist; i'd have so many beautiful pictures to paint. being only a poet, i'm restricted to such subjectivity (though of course that's apparent in visual art), but what i have in my head are pictures that i turn into words as best as i can translate, and readers then have to create the picture as best they can. sometimes i think that my poems are only valuable to me because of the wonderful feelings they repaint in my mind, because they remind me of things that make me happy. that might as well be lost on anyone who doesn't know that about my poetry. that you have to look for the picture more than anything else.

that does not make me an imagist. sorry, william carlos williams.

no. i try as hard as i can to capture something else as well, which comes from implicit meanings and figurative language. metaphors, to me, are life. life is metaphors.

i don't know. i don't know where i went with this. i don't need to structure myself anyway. it's all about feel. all about feel.

groove.