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08.13.03 - 12:29 p.m.

its just amazing how much life you can accumulate. Im packing boxes and drawers and boxes and everywhere there are evidences of me in lives that are so separate from each other but each so full; each one sealed off and stacked with the others on a shelf.

Pictures of eric and i at that pond in the backwoods of his hometown, that one spring when i was in school. In school with those people in that picture over there and next to that picture, that stack of address from my new friends written in that lucky pen i stole from work. Boys handwriting promising that they would write; boys that i have kissed, boys whos porches have found me early in the morning, porches where it seemed i might sit for months into the future. Instead i box all these addresses and all of these promises into another box and seal it off, i pack it in the garage and i start from zero, again.

I keep emptying my hands of things, year after year after year. I keep making friends and then saying goodbye, making them and then saying goodbye. And everytime, i am a little different. Me, here, different than me in birmingham and people that have filtered into my open arms different from those that have filtered in in the past.

Asleep on jimmy's air mattress on their floor with his motorcycle trophies on the coffee table beside my head. I slept under the same blanket that covered him on his last trip to the emergency room. The pictures of me on the trampoline all over their website. And maybe all that my life is about is sprinkling myself wherever i can so that evidences of me exist in paris, france and then again in tuscaloosa, alabama; on a racing website, in a breakroom, underneath the shaving mirror in a boys house in north chattanooga. Isnt that what people do? Spread themselves as varied and prolific as they can hoping that their face will eventually find its way to the right place, a sunny karmic place that may have never been located if i had stayed on that porch in north chattanooga drinking beer and feeling content.

I am lulling myself into believing that i dont really have THAT much to pack.

I miss my friends already. They held my hand into lots of boarded up rooms i might have never discovered had i been alone in the house.

and thanks to them, for that.

washington dc is never going to know what hit it

(now, im on a terroist red flag list. I didnt mean it that way, george.)

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