1st day running, should get a planner, riceboy sleeps

pedriac (specific living plan)

william's culture (childhood suburban vs prarie... creativity, human development)

aging (narrowed focus, outcome assumtions, innocence?)

the violence of everything i'm surrounded with is overwhelming. and my pretending only makes my sensitivity to this violence even worse. there are latino workers in our back yard right now, pulling up bricks and laying different ones. we had breakfast yesterday with anna and bryan (robyn's flapjacks, bacon/corn/fossil fuels, hormone-pumped underdeveloped eggs, rye toast 19 days old (but preserved by science), butter made of corn and chemicals, orange juice from florida (harvested and squeezed by immigrants), and god knows what else). the workers were in the back yard, the windows and doors were open, and we sat down for this meal in utter silence. there was only a clatter of bricks out back that robyn's disgusted face was all too aware of. it was in that moment that i knew kevin could never come over and neither could siekmeier. they wouldn't be able to bear it, the extremity of this life. nothing is real here. everyone is so wrapped up in themselves and their own wealth that any notion of pure justice, goodness, actuality is blotted and drowned out. i'm tired of it. i'm tired of having to explain myself, having to appologize, having to repress every other word and thought. i feel dead, nothing is okay. robyn is not green, my father is not wise, william is not alive, peter is not himself. i hate this.

i had a vision while we were camping- a vision of some kind of shelter where i was able to dwell in peace and truth. there was a garden of flowers, an apron, wild mushrooms, stephanie visiting, music, community, love, honest and open communication, simplicity, no sexual expectations or lines, comfortable, real, human. everything that is not this.

but at the same time, as i am more and more aware of social inequality just outside the front door, i feel more and more pressed to not isolate myself.

lifestyle a: everything is how i want it, and i'm not connected tothe poor. i'm just living in community with people like me, and we're not active in society.

lifestyle b: i apply my desires to live this way to social justice. refugees, immigrants, the poor in spirit. this is why i either need to learn spanish or keep up my thai. and learn french.

atonement, noftzger, train tracks are federal property

i need to write about

my father's true self,

ben's playing bloc party while my dad was around/calling me out on shit,

nate's felt pressure. (because i care)

Dad- I've been meaning to tell you this for some time now. I hope you understand my words and they are sensible and good. This message isn't for other people, it is for you. It doesn't make sense for other people, it makes sense for you. Please understand that I love you, I am your son, and I know you- I have been watching you since I was young and able to be attentive.

Dad, I hope you never learn to text message. It is a useless, silly, fleeting means of feigned communication that you musn't waste your concentration on (your fingers were made like they are, not to press cell phone buttons, but to touch wood and make things). That also goes for learning to work switches and buttons and screens and remotes. I hope you never have to be wearied by these ridiculous technologies. Don't listen to all the words around you, please, and feel obligated to have and utalize these luxuries/burdens. They are simply expensive, meaningless jewels that demand your attention, time, and life. They will break and rust, and spending time trying to understand them will not enrich your life. You know this is true.

You don't need power windows in the car (they just break and are fussy. and how would you fix that?). The house should be colder in the winter time (put on a sweater) and hotter in the summer time (you shouldn't have to wear socks).

You are not a business man. Your feet don't even physically fit into a business man's shoes- this should be reason enough. You don't like the surface-level, silly, fake conversations that are steeped in pride, feelings of entitlement, and greed. You like talking with the humble men and women of this world- those with their feet on the ground. Those who serve. Those who are in love. Those who you love and those who love you, who would sacrifice and give without question. That is where the poor in spirit lie. A community of believers with melted hearts, seeking to bring redemtion to creation (through action) instead of seeking to keep themselves comfortable. You were not made for spread sheets, business meetings, and financial goals/management/gain.

You are meticulous and organized because that's what it takes to carve a chest of drawers. You love working with your hands, not with post-it's and dollars and cents. You are a carpenter. You love the natural simplicity of creation- the outdoors. Taking a walk, dragging dead branches, watching the bats bring night in, listening to thunder with a cigar, laughing at pea-brained squirrels, smelling sycamore leaves falling, watering tomatoes, setting charlotte loose in a field.

You love simplicity because it makes sense, because it is good, because it's what Christ loves.

Sorry if any of this offended you, but someone needed to say it.

sunken river ship, summer cocktail, broken bose

pittsburgh, pennsylvania: over 900 bridges (according to chacha), intimidating and proud residents, many different kinds of friends.
i've sweat a lot since i've been here. first it was because of seeing colin again. second was because i felt confused and overwhelmed. third because i was seeing mickey again. fourth because i didn't know how i was getting back home. but now all (most) of those issues have passed- 'time is a healer', as they say.
{ stephanie josephina }- -good. positive. i'm glad we're together right now.
{ mickey humpula }- -interesting, good, okay, unexpected, understandable. i have mostly been surprised at how two people can be isolated on a farm as workers like we were, get to know each other pretty well, separate (because we both have lives to lead, i guess), then connect again like we are supposed to connect again. riding around the city with him has been just a surprise at how connections between two hearts can be made and remembered. i'm sure we could have never seen each other again and it would have been unspoken and alright, but that hasn't happened. whatever connected us was apparently strong enough to keep us reasonably present in each other's minds. interesting. i wonder what it's for and what it will lead to.
{ colin dinsmore albright }- -ssaowuehflksdcniwyefbnwodcmowuebgnfvoijwmeociwoefubijn
i set up my bed near his, but he moved his because he wanted to play music and i couldn't sleep and i wanted my head to be not higher than his and i wanted to be there, but it wasn't good and i couldn't sleep well anyway, so i moved downstairs. we're not going to connect. he was why i came here. i'm disappointed. maybe there's nothing to connect about- why should i expect to connect with another person just because i expect to? that doesn't make any sense.

went to waynsburgh with ben,kevin,heidi,heather. went to groovies, saw transformers, made gooseberry pie, slept outside, made a fire, got my hair cut, met jeremy czec, and it was important and positive.

rozzin, coat of many colors, sparrows

there was just a moment when i was reading a healthy email from megan smith, listening to music in the sparrows window, and saw natalie ride by with a saw tied to her back. it was at that moment that i loved my life.

summer fish house, johnny's coffee, texting in thai

founders brought me jen smeage, rachel from the farm, rachelle, the new girl from alaska. talking with jill devries is much more entertaining after 1.5 beers. we left morgan+crusties at a house show barreling toward destruction and noise. (i came home later to gashes in the floors and police footprints)

the present is here and it isn't awesome. becoming aware of time and change by recalling past experiences or looking at photos or seeing old friends compells me to also take note of the present. usually i see myself further, smarter, larger, more reasonable, more attractive. i don't know why this is- lots of it is probably a false sense of progression and security, but regardless, i'm very aware right now of how much i don't feel better. i'm not on top of my social life, what i'm wearing, what i'm listening to, what i'm 'into'. maybe this is good for me, but i don't feel confident. i don't feel apart, and i dont feel inspired.

ryne is another one of those striking human presences.

417's a mess, beirut's venice, mitchell's away

wendel barry's manifesto

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more
of everything ready-made. Be afraid
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know.

So, friends, every day do something
that won't compute. Love the Lord.
Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace
the flag. Hope to live in that free
republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man
has not encountered he has not destroyed.

Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millenium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.

Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion - put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world. Laugh.
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep
of a woman near to giving birth?

Go with your love to the fields.
Lie down in the shade. Rest your head
in her lap. Swear allegiance
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos
can predict the motions of your mind,
lose it. Leave it as a sign
to mark the false trail, the way
you didn't go. Be like the fox
who makes more tracks than necessary,
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

i saw this written on a strip of birch bark, hanging on the wall in tchell's room. he is thinking about this. so much attention and concentration to create that- the words must have been necessary to write down. this whole idea of having to read mitchell through anything but his spoken word is a skill i have learned to develop. it is by noticing the birch bark poems, the sticky notes, and the books open on his desk that i understand how he is. like laying clues, he leaves open pieces of his heart in subtle places for people to find. often friends are frustrated because he isn't blatant and vocal about this thoughts and emotions, but these friends shouldn't loose heart. he is expressive.

the house is a wreck. unkept, abused, and irresponsible use of a blessing. i'm embarrased to call this place home sometimes- i don't have any other place to call home.

matt noticed the bookshelves being cleaned straight away.

nof listens to me talk about the burdens of my family. the death of my sister and father.

heidi, lydia, ben are all separated individual people who are unable to understand their thoughts and actions alone, but there is no one else around them who listens and supports and encourages and loves. no one is letting each other in- this is what i've encountered so far.

venice sounds like sensitivity to change. photographic paper's sensitivity to light, eyes' sensitivity to the midday sun, a person's sensitivity to a change in another person, photosynthesis.