truth: i fucking love my job and the talented, genuine, big-hearted folks i work with.
also truth: if i ever have to stare at those assholes for fourteen hours straight again, it’ll be a billion years too soon.
my word, today was long.
i do not take for granted that i’ve a freestanding bathtub, a window opening to a sun soaked garden, singing birds instead of rushing cars.
i note with thanks the cupboards, filled with dried pasta and tinned tomatoes, promising a comforting meal on a night that i do not have the money for groceries.
i see the man who loves me, not with perfection, but with intent all the same.
vetiver in my bath water and lavender in my heart.
one week ago today, i lost my grandma. she was a toothless, half deaf, racist old pain in my ass who was known to sneak off to the bathroom, remove her oxygen cannula, and light up a malboro red. she loved princess diana, the home shopping network, and cheap white zinfandel.
she thought i was pretty great, too.
bye, gram. i love you like a fat kid loves cake."
when i started this blog back in 2008, i did so because i had things to say, but no one to say them to. here i am in 2014 and the only difference i can see is that i no longer have anything to express. funny how that goes.
i can’t delete it. it is a record of this dirty little city. of beginnings, endings, the spaces between, over, and around. under and through. it is a record of me…i am here in cliché photography, horrible poetry, and the poignant words of people i have never met. it stays here, even if i no longer can.
let the record show that it is april in portland, oregon. the streets are a riot of purple lilacs, red tulips, and orange poppies. the sky is a violent dance of sunshine and rain, clouds and blue expanse. it really is beautiful…at least i think so.