This is where my procrastination-induced and complaint-filled entries lived while I was studying for the bar. Now, I suppose, it's a random space where shorter posts will hang out, eat snacks, and talk about me behind my back.
Writings that take more time will live at my regular blog at escaping words.
Fear is about me.
Courage is about life - I want to contribute in a meaningful way, I want to move with the arts, technology, observe how we receive/hear information, connect, find myself a corner and be a part of the circus. we’re passing through, collaborating without us knowing it.
The suburbs can be so quiet away from the main roads. I hear plaintive wind-chimes and a squeaking tricycle powered by the enormous energy of a little boy, the dry patter of dead leaves still hanging on a tree in the wind.
Someone is cooking with onions and garlic and cumin, which smells infinitely better than the exhaust of the car that just passed by.
There’s that family of deer that are terrorizing the neighborhood. Or maybe this posse is part of a larger roving deer gang that people keep seeing. This lot, they like to graze on the high school grounds and seem unruffled by humans barging in on them while they eat afternoon tea or dinner or whatever it is. I hear a wild rustle as I pass a thicket and cross the road rather hurriedly. Who knows what will happen with a deer gang.
I’m walking away from the sunset that today gets almost cartoonishly, violently pink and orange and toward the more placid gray-purple-blue and I can see the half-moon high up in the sky, already bright.
I glimpse through the picture window of a house, but can’t hear, a tiny girl practicing piano at an upright, and I wonder if she will continue playing when she is no longer a tiny girl. I see the street sign dedicated in memory of someone who died on 9/11, and this time, I look up his name when I get home. He was younger than I am now.