thanks, dad.

sometimes when i wake up in the morning, there are poems in my email from my dad. i got this one the other day.

Lines Written in Early Spring

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played:
Their thoughts I cannot measure,
But the least motion which they made,
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

"Lines Written in Early Spring" by William Wordsworth

spring

these are some kids playing in the courtyard outside of my living room window. Check out onlyinpgh.com for the photo!

philadelphia / first of spring

these photographs are average.

the weekend, on the other hand, was not.

getting to see mark kozelek live was the single most amazing experience of my life, yet. and i mean that, completely. it was good to be gone for the weekend. and with really good friends. i just felt lucky to be able to spend such a sweet, warm and bright weekend doing so many lovely things with people who make me feel good. happy spring.

it only brings my sorrow, the same that i would want today, i will want again tomorrow

outside it's warm. the first real spring day. but the sky is still rumbling. it's light blue but mostly gray. the sky line glows in front of it - the dark black on the light gray. but it's not a nice light gray, it's the light gray of the first spring storm. the wind is blowing on the electric wires of the street poles; they're waving back and forth like a jump rope.

it's twilight. i'm standing in the window painting cerulean blue. i am watching girls in heels outside of my window and skirts. i don't know what they're doing in my neighborhood; they don't belong here. behind them walks a man in black. and i'm listening to boots of spanish leather.

and as i watch the water dripping on my canvas, i start to hear from my open window, the drops falling on the twilight streets outside. i am thinking that, if somebody asked, i'd tell them that this is what we sounded like.

four fingered fishermen

so, i know that i just posted this photo below in the series from the cemetery. but, i love it. i sent this one in to onlyinpgh.com as my photo of the week.

so, first 5 people to post a comment on this picture will get a free one in the mail. some day, i'd like for people to actually purchase my prints. until then, i'm just going to send them to my friends for free.

watercolors

this is my first finished watercolor painting. i love it. i started it on my birthday - a cold rainy day that laurie and i spent painting and i finished it the night of my birthday party when all of my friends were in my living room drinking under warm light and quiet laughter.

i want to just keep learning. there's so much more to discover by adding color to water and watching it move on paper. soak and dry and drip and stop and start again. i want to use lighter colors next time. and avoid a lot of the dripping (not soaking, though) and lines by using a sponge to soak up before drips happen, and by moving the paper around more - not just leaving it hanging on the wall.

it feels really good to try. and be kind to yourself in your creative process. it feels good to just do it for yourself.

and darling we will be fine but what was yours and mine appears to be a sandcastle that the gibbering wave takes

today was good. because there was light. work was nice. i decided to walk to the cemetery to take some pictures. i walked past your street and i saw you taking out the garbage. i noticed your blue hat before i could tell that it was you. there you were. taking out the garbage for your soon to be wife. i stood and watched you for a while. i was glad you didn't see me. but i was happy to see you. i wished that i was a poet. i felt close to you in that moment - both of us shackled by something that we want, but it feels uncomfortable and unnatural. your shoulders looked low and weighed down - but maybe that's just how i want to see you, or expected to see you - because you were never supposed to be married. or be engaged. or be anything but my ghost. and free. you're supposed to be free. always, beautifully free.

the cemetery. so much death and life and meaning. the places where you took pictures of me in your blue hat. today i took pictures i hadn't taken before - mostly of the beautiful building whose gates you walk through to enter the cemetery. there were windows with shadows and reflections of the trees and cemetery and trees on penn avenue. i really enjoyed this outing.

i thought about derek and how much he hates cemeteries. of course he does. and that's why i love him.