comet dust poured onto porcelain plates.

staring into wall space - beside my porch - sf, ca

ever since i read that a person i admire abhors "sloppiness of any sort," i've made it a point to clean up my act.  you couldn't tell by the looks of my room, but i'm taking tiny leaps.

drive down the 101. take a right. or a left. and you're there.

my spot - sands - isla vista, ca

i spent so much time sitting right there on that bench overlooking sands,  thinking about so many things all by myself.  and now, just looking at that spot--that little planted plank of contemplation--sends me into a headspace of nostalgia and happiness and longing and confusion even still. but there's one thing i'm quite sure of--one thing that quells my craving to live it all again:  that i can always go back.  and that's just what i did.  we did.  my alumni kin and i.  we took iv and sb by storm.  hugged and drank and smiled and danced over and over again until the end.  and on the drive home, i got a little emosh thinking about all i left behind.  all of my favorite thought-time spots.  houses and balconies and pitchers and pounding speakers and pardall pleasantries.  but you know what i kept?  the memories. 

fluffy layers of flour and egg with a side of spice and nice.

my hoodies, stacked - my closet - sf, ca

went to dosa on fillmore tonight for dinner.  mindddddddd-shattering.  earth-quaking.  i can't believe i put off going for so long.  i'll never look at crepes or curry the same way again.  tonight was the food equivalent of looking up on the bus only to realize that a gorgeous man in eight inches away from your face.  you kinda never want it to end. ever.  still metaphorically speaking, this man is someone you'd write a missed connection about.  he's that beautiful.  you're sure he'd never lose his boyish charm, his five-star attitude.  if you haven't found him, hop on the 2 or the 22 and keep your eyes peeled for a yellow building on the corner.