morning: experimentation with yolky eggs, sriracha, and a healthy dose of the xx and new d'angelo.

three friends messaged me within the past 24 hours about what i am doing for New Year's Eve. i found myself content with having absolutely no inkling of what i will be doing. more important: the frame of mind i would like to maintain on into the new year.

speaking of, i highly recommend reading this recent brainpickings issue, which discusses being alone and also a perspective on "waking up" to life- which is not only relevant to this time of day, but also a concept that i personally think about all the time.

Our minds are all we have. They are all we have ever had. And they are all we can offer others... Every experience you have ever had has been shaped by your mind. Every relationship is as good or as bad as it is because of the minds involved.

and also, the thought that

presence is far more rewarding than productivity.

it's grey and overcast outside. but let's be present today and tackle the world together, shall we?

it hasn't stopped raining yet.

it's n's birthday.
we painted the table he built.
he always has wine ready.
he readied me while i was standing at the precipice, wondering what to do with my life.
he spoke to me about two kinds of "passionate," and suggested he knew which kind i was.
then he casually poured some wine and mashed up some guacamole and let me be.

i awoke.
maybe it was the avocados. maybe it was the lime.

whatever it was, i dove.

and here i am, two years later. swimming with all i've got.

“Let them think what they liked, but I didn’t mean to drown myself. I meant to swim till I sank — but that’s not the same thing.”

- Joseph Conrad

“Ms. O’Brien describes her young self this way: “I was ravenous. For food. For life. For the stories that I would write, except that everything was effervescent and inchoate in my overexcitable brain.” She desired, she says, to be “drawn into the wild heart of things.””

— Edna O’Brien, Seeking the Ardent Life. O, joy! To the wild, wild heart of things!

Muriel Rukeyser, on the root of our resistance to poetry

“However confused the scene of our life appears, however torn we may be who now do face that scene, it can be faced, and we can go on to be whole.”

One sweltering New York afternoon some years ago, I was sitting across from a dear friend several decades my senior as I mentioned, with the matter-of-factly, arrogant naiveté of someone who does that sort of thing, that I didn’t care for poetry. Without missing a beat, she began reciting e.e. cummings in the middle of that bustling Manhattan café. And just like that, everything changed — this was the beginning.

But even though Joseph Brodsky believed that poetry is the key to developing our taste in culture and James Dickey wrote that it “makes possible the deepest kind of personal possession of the world,” my reaction that summer Tuesday was far from uncommon — as a society, we seem to harbor a strange resistance to poetry, a stubborn refusal to recognize that it contains what Wordsworth called “the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge.”

It’s a resistance that “has the qualities of fear.” So argues the magnificent Muriel Rukeyser in the 1949 treasure The Life of Poetry (public library) — a wise and wonderful exploration of all the ways in which we keep ourselves from the gift of an art so elemental yet so transcendent, so infinitely soul-stretching, so capable of Truth.




- via brainpickings

Geez.

“So if you want to argue for an alternate interpretation, you have to do the real work. You can’t just drop a quote and say, “I think this means X.” You have to acknowledge, “Many listeners might think this means Y; I think it means X and here’s why.” If you ignore the context in which listeners encountered the moment, you lose your authority (because your readers are gonna be like, Um, did you not hear the rest of the episode?). Arguing for a non-status-quo interpretation is basically the core, central move of critical writing. I love it. You just have to actually do it.”

—

Jaime Green: The Problem With the Problems With Serial 

"We seem to reserve a special rage in this world for those whose ability to be unafraid in pursuit of something new extends beyond our own. We begrudge them their strange friends and strange experiences under the guise that we find those things to be dangerous or unclean. But really we resent those people because their courage reminds us of how common and terrified we feel inside. Bravery is a virtue people revere in dead soldiers and then turn to disparage in someone extending her hand to a weirdo." - On Kindness, via medium

“Though on the boat I write, I shoot. On the boat let’s face it I’m held. In its waves, its vagueness, in its water. I see only water. Water doesn’t answer. No land ahead. Just water. So my dilemma shrinks to secondary and abstract. How will I live. I want to stay in this primary thing that moves.”
— Eileen Myles, “The Importance of Being Iceland.”

I had the pleasure of meeting Om this weekend, and in the short 15 minute conversation I had with him I could see why is he one of the most influential people on the internet (and maybe off the internet, too).

He didn't make small talk. He cut to the chase and asked me what I was doing in New York City, and what I am looking for in life. He looked into my eyes and said that I didn't look content here, that he saw that I am a Texas girl who loves the open road and skies.

While that may be true, I spent the rest of the weekend reflecting on what I am doing here, really. I do believe that here, all paths intersect. If you want, you can find nothing here- and if you want, you will find the world. New York City is what you paint it to be, whether it be sadness or desperation or hope or anxiety or stillness.

(I also had the pleasure of attending the L.A. Dance Project performance at the BAM. Aptly, Millepied's piece played upon the themes of "Stay" and "Go")

Why did I stay here? I am obsessed with how people connect in a place as anonymous and dense as this city. The sometimes superficial intimacy that happens in public without hesitation or thought. The profound roots that grow from only the most stoic passions. As cliche as it is, I am here as wide-eyed witness to these connections and dreams. And when you go toward where you look, you will find yourself there faster and with less struggle than you initially anticipated.


--

As a more lighthearted postscript, my friend Nate of Gigzolo posted this article the other day. The title is a bit misleading, but I am taking some of her lessons learned to heart. So yes, though I find myself resisting, I will believe in love again. I will start to travel again. I will say yes to the men who ask me on "real" dates, though they be few and far between in this city. I will break down. I will stand up. I will be nicer than I want to be. and I will take photographs along the way.

Every single day I have a plethora of things that I want to write down. I have notebooks strewn all over my desk, and meanderings recorded on various apps and web note-taking tools. It may be haphazard, but I believe that the point is just to WRITE. So I try to remove the obstacles of being strict with myself on organization about what goes where, and what thoughts should be kept in which places. Sometimes this backfires, and I end up writing nothing at all because there is no focus (much like this blog, ha). But I'll gladly accept this issue in exchange for the freedom that I feel.

Today I walked home, got into my robe, lit a candle, and made mint tea. I sat down and began to write, and organize, and think about some projects I want to start on.

As a Gemini (yeah, okay, tease me about believing in astrology but seriously sometimes it is spooky), I am flighty and easily distracted. I jump between projects a lot. a LOT. (You have no idea how many blog posts I write that go unpublished because of this). But I think in the end, the passion that comes with it all is what pushes me through to get the important things done.

In the middle of it all, as I curated playlists, reviewed some of my photos on flickr, created project plans for stuff (ugh, talk about the creative and business sides of me crashing into one!), I received a surprising email from a former professor of mine. He was requesting a photo of mine to use for a personal project. After all these years, I wondered why he reached out to me.

He originally requested that I send him something that already exists in my archives. I toyed with this idea, but I offered to shoot something specific for him if he preferred.

His response made my heart flip.

This is something I think isn't shot in a shoot but is found in a mood, if you know what I mean, and I thought of you because you're a connoisseur of moods.

Sometimes you go through life wondering if anyone understands your purpose, or what you strive to do. With art, with writing, with music, with your every day presence. I was floored that after all these years, M captured one of my core artistic intents in one simple sentence.

When they told you that your body is a temple they failed to mention that your skin is what keeps your haven safe. I can see inside of your window eyes and I can see that your so-called sanctuary is caving in. That the stones that once kept you safe, that once held you up when there was no trace of strength inside of you, are starting to collapse around your fragile body. You think that no one can see the pain inside of you, but I can see that what took you so long to build, what has now bruised your hands and left you to fight alone, is failing you now when you need its protection the most.

If it’s true what they said, that your body really is a temple that should be treated with the highest form of respect, than they must have never been through the great storm. The storm that came so suddenly but still has yet to pass, even when the skies have cleared and the sun has revealed itself to you. It’s still alive, still burning, still full of the energy that you have always envied since you first learnt of it’s true power. But I promise, you warrior that has seen struggles that not even the bravest of men could face, that what the great storm has left behind will someday dry up. Even if someday is months or years away, your skin; your shelter of protection will soon heal.

One day you will be able to start building yourself again. You will come out of this war with blood on your hands, but this time it won’t be your own. This time you will laugh in the presence of your own misfortune and you will thrive from their memories of the long and tiring journey that once seemed too impossible to complete. I promise you that one day you will be able to speak of the great storm without your eye like windows forming a monsoon of its own. I promise that one day you will look at your battle scars and you will be able to say with confidence that you survived. That in the end, you came out of the storm as a hero.

"A letter to your self-doubt," - Colleen Brown

Repost from Matt Mullenweg:

1.  Understand what people need.
2. Address the whole experience, from start to finish.
3. Make it simple and intuitive.
4. Build the service using agile and iterative practices.
5. Structure budgets and contracts to support delivery.
6. Assign one leader and hold that person accountable.
7. Bring in experienced teams.
8. Choose a modern technology stack.
9. Deploy in a flexible hosting environment.
10. Automate testing and deployments.
11. Manage security and privacy through reusable processes.
12. Use data to drive decisions.
13. Default to open.

That sounds like a list anyone creating something online should follow. Would you guess it’s actually from the US government Digital Services Playbook?

late night kerouac:


We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It's a dream already ended. There's nothing to be afraid of and nothing to be glad about. I know this from staring at mountains months on end. They never show any expression, they are like empty space. Do you think the emptiness of space will ever crumble away? Mountains will crumble, but the emptiness of space, which is the one universal essence of mind, the vast awakenerhood, empty and awake, will never crumble away because it was never born.



The world you see is just a movie in your mind.

Rocks dont see it.

Bless and sit down.

Forgive and forget.

Practice kindness all day to everybody

and you will realize you're already

in heaven now.

That's the story.

That's the message.

Nobody understands it,

nobody listens, they're

all running around like chickens with heads cut

off. I will try to teach it but it will

be in vain, s'why I'll

end up in a shack

praying and being

cool and singing

by my woodstove

making pancakes.

Convergence of so many things right now.

i.
Master the art of living:

If you approach each moment, each task, each person, without expectations … and just see that moment or person as they are … then you will really see that moment. Really appreciate it. Experience it like you’ve never experienced anything before, because you haven’t.

and also from Leo:
We can fantasize all we want, but the fantasy never happens. This present reality is all we got. Let’s learn to love it.


ii.
From "Behind the App"- Plex says:

What advice would you give to others that want to take on a similar project?

1. Start from a place of love. This has taken us years and when we started we didn't know if it was going to be a hobby or a business. We are very lucky that it appears to be growing into a solid business. If we didn't love what we were doing, we can assure you it would not have made it to this point.

2. Focus on building a great community around what you are doing. Our users have helped build Plex, no question. Without our community, Plex would be less successful and less fun. Who wants that?

3. Be as hands on in as many things as possible. Our developers all engage regularly with users to resolve issues. Not one of us is above engaging on customer support and satisfaction issues. It is not possible to help everyone all of the time, but pretending that you are above it doesn't get you any closer to the heart of issues and resolving them.

4. Don't be afraid to do things differently. Guess what? There is no perfectly right way to go about building something. We've done a ton of stuff other people thought would be terrible for our project, but ended up being exactly right for Plex.

5. Have fun. Life is short—don't ruin it with a project that isn't a blast.

iii.

“I tell my students, ‘When you get these jobs that you have been so brilliantly trained for, just remember that your real job is that if you are free, you need to free somebody else. If you have some power, then your job is to empower somebody else. This is not just a grab-bag candy game.’”

- Toni Morrison

iv.

“If only I could visit you as a foreigner goes into a new country, learn the language of you, wander past all borders into every private and secret place, I would stay forever. I would become a citizen of you.”

- Lisa Kleypas, A Wallflower Christmas

From therumblr

This week is for traveling on highways, this week is for driving on back roads, this week is for flying so high above the ground. Keep your eyes on the countryside, keep your eyes on the clouds, keep your eyes on the golden horizon. The world can feel so big this week. The world can feel so dense and rich and strange, and the more you move, the more you can remember who you are. The more you move, the sweeter it is to come home

i walked through chinatown today,
lower lower chinatown,
across columbus park, and onward even further to seward park

i tried to contain my nostalgia as i stood behind the excited men watching and discussing heated games of chinese chess, thinking about the groaning afternoons that i spent in extracurricular chinese chess classes after obligatory chinese school. the chess games were set to a soundtrack of the straining, gasping lilt of the erhu filtered through shouts from the soccer fields.

in true Amelie fashion, I sank fingers into and through the bins of watermelon seeds, thinking of all the times we sat at the kitchen table cracking our molars on opening those seeds to get the tiny morsel of flesh inside.

i walked slowly through the bakeries, inspecting the sweet glutinous rice treats. i felt heartsick about the Mandarin language as i listened to toddlers point out in bird-like voices the "tu shu guan" (library) to their smiling and proud mothers. heartsick because our children may never experience as close of a link to their "heritage" and language as we did, as the sons and daughters of immigrants.

i thought about my grandmother's wrinkled hands gripping my tiny ones too tight, but how i never dared to complain. all i could think about was the pain of the handhold as she sang me songs in Fukinese, songs that i never understood and don't remember.

i thought about the value of the mangoes my mother cut up, how she saved all the fleshy parts for us. she only ever ate off of the peels, biting off what was left after she fed us. i felt immense gratitude flood across my heart, for the times i never saw the sacrifice that helped put the grapes and strawberries and Asian pears on the kitchen table. the water added lovingly to congee, to stretch the grains of rice just a little bit further. the pots of soup that were made from not just the chicken, but the bones themselves, to stretch it just a little bit further too.
this actually haunts me regularly these days, in the face of the seeming gluttony of our $12 salads (oh and add four dollars for chicken breast).

perhaps it's all so pessimistic. perhaps i'm dancing the fool's dance, thinking this way. i feel almost guilty, that it's all too easy to walk down a few blocks with a few dollars in hand acquire the rare and coveted and scarce treats of my childhood.
i feel like if i put all the words i could craft together in a bucket, it would still be too shallow to show my family how i feel about this, to tell them that i understand now. it feels a little like walking backstage and seeing what really made the play come to life.

i stood quietly behind a fence, watching a lone man practice qi gong. i studied the sweeping and dancing of his feet, the discipline behind his movements, the serenity that sat in the stillness of his face.
i know i panic daily, everything is in a rush, has to be part of a plan. it ruins lives, all this planning. let me learn how to slow down.

how do you sink into the noise around you? how do you transcend it?

It never gets easier. It shouldn't. We should hunger for something more from life. From ourselves.

Every day, you should ask yourself, how have I impacted my soul? How have I grown?
More often than not, I am surrounded by people who instead ask themselves, How much money have I made, and how much more can I get?

Mistakes get harder to make.
We don't want to fall. We don't want to fail.


John McPhee in the Paris Review-

INTERVIEWER

I suppose one of the hard things for a young writer is to learn that there’s no obvious path. 

MCPHEE

There is no path. If you go to dental school, you’re a dentist when you’re done. For the young writer, it’s like seeing islands in a river and there’s all this stuff you can get into—where do you go? It can be a mistake to get too great a job at first; that can turn around and stultify you. At the age of, say, twenty-one, you’re in a very good position to make mistakes. Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four—each time the mistakes become a little more costly. You don’t want to be making these mistakes when you’re forty-five. But the thing is, in steering around all those islands, and finding currents to go around them, they’re all relevant. 

I am listening to the ice against the window, in the middle of April.
Snow is illuminated beneath the street lamps.

Earlier, I was walking in it.
The wind blew ice in between my eyelashes.
Thinking about how one possibility was that I could feel cold and wet,
but think of all the other feelings I'd miss.

And so I broke into a run, and reveled in it.


--


Consider the Hands that Write This Letter (via poets.org)

  by Aracelis Girmay
         after Marina Wilson

Consider the hands
that write this letter.

Left palm pressed flat against paper,
as we have done before, over my heart,

in peace or reverence to the sea,
some beautiful thing

I saw once, felt once: snow falling
like rice flung from the giants’ wedding,

or strangest of strange birds. & consider, then,
the right hand, & how it is a fist,

within which a sharpened utensil,
similar to the way I’ve held a spade,

the horse’s reins, loping, the very fists
I’ve seen from roads through Limay & Estelí.

For years, I have come to sit this way:
one hand open, one hand closed,

like a farmer who puts down seeds & gathers up;
food will come from that farming.

Or, yes, it is like the way I’ve danced
with my left hand opened around a shoulder,

my right hand closed inside
of another hand. & how I pray,

I pray for this to be my way: sweet
work alluded to in the body’s position to its paper:

left hand, right hand
like an open eye, an eye closed:

one hand flat against the trapdoor,
the other hand knocking, knocking.

Lately:
- Food & Wine's article on Jean George's French and Asian influences
- Ae-ran Kim's Ascending Scales

notes:
- azaleas in bloom yesterday, and wilted today
- the bravery and potential injury recovery time of children playing on playgrounds
- when mom wants to go somewhere to eat, accompany her.

i wrote to a friend today about the holiday season:

as cynical as we all can be about the modern world we live in, and as cheesy as it may be to write about this-

i am really happy that there are different instruments playing holiday songs every day in the lobby of my office downstairs. there is a harp today, playing with a violin and flute. yesterday there was a string quartet. pachelbel canon almost made me cry, a little. 

in the tunnels there are carolers. and singers. and jazz guitarists. 

sometimes i know it's hard to believe that this tradition still exists, and maybe we can make fun of it a little, but i am so happy during this time of year. everyone says hi to each other, and is cheerful, and talks about presents, and their kids, and their families. people wear their ugly christmas sweaters and santa hats. we share chocolate, cookies, hot cocoa. my coworker has Linus's Christmas tree on her desk.  there is that buzz in the air, that words can't describe. some combination of happiness, hope, excitement...

it moves me so much to be around so much cheer. i keep thinking, what if we practiced this attitude all year? one of anticipation, one of gratitude, one of closeness, one of commonality and community. wouldn't the world be a better place?

honestly, i can think of a hundred cynical ways to retort to myself about this, but really. everyone's attitude is so authentic that it just makes me smile. 

on a somewhat related note, Amanda (you can find her here and here) sent this to me today. Vienna Teng, one of my overall favorite musical artists, continues to exhibit authenticity in everything she does. The video is inpsiring. i relate to it, and think about how this past week i tried to explain to someone the feeling of letting go when you dance, and also that dance changed (and saved) my life. 

"Humanity may let you down; you may let yourself down," Teng says. "That's not important at the end of the day. What's important is that you have a sense of possibility, that you can look around and be amazed at how far we have come, even though we have farther to go."

how to feel whole again:

be a passenger into the blue. doesn't matter which hue: the sky, the sea, the whitish-blue of the stars. eyes.
step on the leaves, find where the reds and yellows turn back into greens.
stop for coffee but get a chunk of dark chocolate to gnaw on instead.
listen to canadian fusion folk music and let yourself be confused.
put seashells in your pocket, tiny ones, the shape and size of your pinky nail.
look at photographs of peaceful homes that you want to live in one day.
be ok with being in a state of contradiction.
respond to letters that end with "thanks for being my friend."
don't be perfect.
listen to piano and strings. a nice example linked by CM.
read short stories. (thanks, KH)
eat jalapenos and avocado in the same bite.
notice the sunset. and mostly-ignored bodies of water, such as Houston bayous.
give up excuses.

This last week, I came across several intersections. As with all intersections in life and love and great Netflix series and other things that have more physical form, things collide now and then.

--

Notes:

Stacked notecards defining "i love you"
Forgiveness
Perspective
Point of view
Being a student of you
Tears from a stranger
Distilling arguments about the placement of light sources
How it feels to almost die (again)
How it feels to know resoundingly without a doubt that you are alive (again)
Seeing the world in a way that only people who know what a privilege it is to be alive can
Allowing yourself to construct non-sentences with shitty grammar
The hardship and gratitude surrounding Family
The crucial recognition of why people believe in God(s), in Fate, in Karma, in Destiny, in Coincidence, in Luck and the Lucky
Discussions on beating the odds, be it football, roulette, or life
Also, pain is pretty awesome. It means you're alive and you can feel.

--


from Brain Picking's 7th anniversary edition:

1. Allow yourself the uncomfortable luxury of changing your mind. Cultivate that capacity for "negative capability."We live in a culture where one of the greatest social disgraces is not having an opinion, so we often form our "opinions" based on superficial impressions or the borrowed ideas of others, without investing the time and thought that cultivating true conviction necessitates. We then go around asserting these donned opinions and clinging to them as anchors to our own reality. It's enormously disorienting to simply say, "I don't know." But it's infinitely more rewarding to understand than to be right – even if that means changing your mind about a topic, an ideology, or, above all, yourself.
2. Do nothing for prestige or status or money or approval alone. As Paul Graham observed, "prestige is like a powerful magnet that warps even your beliefs about what you enjoy. It causes you to work not on what you like, but what you’d like to like." Those extrinsic motivators are fine and can feel life-affirming in the moment, but they ultimately don't make it thrilling to get up in the morning and gratifying to go to sleep at night – and, in fact, they can often distract and detract from the things that do offer those deeper rewards.
3. Be generous. Be generous with your time and your resources and with giving credit and, especially, with your words. It's so much easier to be a critic than a celebrator. Always remember there is a human being on the other end of every exchange and behind every cultural artifact being critiqued. To understand and be understood, those are among life's greatest gifts, and every interaction is an opportunity to exchange them.
4. Build pockets of stillness into your life. Meditate. Go for walks. Ride your bike going nowhere in particular. There is a creative purpose to daydreaming, even to boredom. The best ideas come to us when we stop actively trying to coax the muse into manifesting and let the fragments of experience float around our unconscious mind in order to click into new combinations. Without this essential stage of unconscious processing, the entire flow of the creative process is broken.
   Most importantly, sleep. Besides being the greatest creative aphrodisiac, sleep also affects our every waking moment, dictates our social rhythm, and even mediates our negative moods. Be as religious and disciplined about your sleep as you are about your work. We tend to wear our ability to get by on little sleep as some sort of badge of honor that validates our work ethic. But what it really is is a profound failure of self-respect and of priorities. What could possibly be more important than your health and your sanity, from which all else springs?
5. When people tell you who they are, Maya Angelou famously advised, believe them. Just as importantly, however, when people try to tell you who you are, don't believe them. You are the only custodian of your own integrity, and the assumptions made by those that misunderstand who you are and what you stand for reveal a great deal about them and absolutely nothing about you.
6. Presence is far more intricate and rewarding an art than productivity. Ours is a culture that measures our worth as human beings by our efficiency, our earnings, our ability to perform this or that. The cult of productivity has its place, but worshipping at its altar daily robs us of the very capacity for joy and wonder that makes life worth living – for, as Annie Dillard memorably put it, "how we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives."
7. "Expect anything worthwhile to take a long time." This is borrowed from the wise and wonderful Debbie Millman, for it's hard to better capture something so fundamental yet so impatiently overlooked in our culture of immediacy. The myth of the overnight success is just that – a myth – as well as a reminder that our present definition of success needs serious retuning. As I've reflected elsewhere, the flower doesn’t go from bud to blossom in one spritely burst and yet, as a culture, we're disinterested in the tedium of the blossoming. But that’s where all the real magic unfolds in the making of one’s character and destiny.

--

Finally, resoundingly:


“You can never know anyone as completely as you want. But that’s okay, love is better.” 

(caroline paul)

A few months ago, maybe in April, I took my first spin class. 

Lifechanging? Probably not. Impactful? Certainly. There were few physical activities this year that made me feel completely useless. One was snowboarding. The second was hiking uphill for hours carrying 40 pounds on my back. The third was spin class. Okay, fine, the fourth was probably breaking my own heart.

Now, I struggle with recovery. I referenced a quote from Ana Forrest's Fierce Medicine:

"I’d believed that in order to do what I was afraid of, I had to get rid of the fear first, but that turned out to be only an idea, not the truth. You have to do something two hundred times before the fear will disperse. Are you still afraid of something? Just do it again. Do it again. Do it again."

For as long as I can remember, I don't think I have ever just stopped being active for a period of time. Now it's a mental battle. Lacing up my shoes. Picking out smaller weights. Facing the way my muscles shake, even at 1/2 the weight I was using just two months ago. Dealing with how my breath seems like it wants to quit just 15 minutes into something. The flexibility I've lost. The strength I need to gain. The yoga poses I can't hold for as long.

Things that were easy then, now feel like war.

I intend to fight it.

My doctor talks about professional athletes. The slow progress they make. Basketball players jogging slowly across the court. Then around it. Then playing horse. Then pickup games. Practice. More practice. Are you scared? Do it again.

I feel my fear building, about how weak I feel.

I am stalking my fear. 

My fear of failing, my fear of love, my fear of pain, my fear of being injured. My fear of the unknown.

Let's go hunting.


PS- a favorite lyric from Bjork:

if travel is searching
and home what's been found
i'm not stopping

i'm going hunting