opened door

One.

when i get road rage (which is often) i immediately tune into 91.5 KUSC. it's calming and humbling. unless its an opera which only increases my rage. i don't want to hear voices interrupting the purity of instruments. it is frustrating

when its raining: transatlanticism, in rainbows, feel good lost

when i'm in the car and i feel on top its chicago/no man's land by sufjan stevens. it feels epic.

when reading its the Amelie soundtrack composed by Yann Tiersen or Eternal Sunshine by Jon Brion or Christopher O'Riley's True Love Waits or Sun Will Set by Zoe Keating...

when sad its bob dylan, joni mitchell, and select coldplay.

Two.

when my thoughts go at war and my conscious lies heavy the only thing that helps is the piano. it takes everything, bottles it up and drops it into the ocean. for someone else or nobody or everybody to find. but not me. and i create or render or hold one chord indefinitely.

and if that's ever taken from me. there are no words for that.

lately. lately my sustaining pedal, my favorite pedal, seems weak... perhaps its insulted.

when enraged i start cleaning. i get that from a parent.

when i don't want to be at home but i have to be at home, i tip-toe.

when i'm static i grab P&M

when it rains. i concentrate. internalize each drop. the period in between awake and asleep is so pure and euphoric... and my dreams are enhanced. i think each raindrop collects, reassembles, and rises again. but this time dancing.

Three.

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Four.

my strongest desire is to lie in a field of wildflowers - all sorts. i will watch the clouds reveal the sun and the clouds form into strangers and familiars. and the clouds thicken and thicken and thicken. and there aren't clouds now. there is cloud. and it rains. the flowers are dancing. i'm laughing and life is perfect.

Five.

nostalgia. i cuddle with my mom. i look at my same 15 favorite pictures from my childhood over and over and over. i close my eyes and The Eleanors appear. and i'm cradled. and i'm fed spaghetti-o's and cinnamon bears. and dress up. and the balcony. the smallest balcony in the smallest apartment in the smallest town over looking the biggest world. and the smell of cigarettes and doublemint gum is the most comforting thing in the world. and sometimes i still smell it. that's a phenomenon. the association of memories and scents.

Six.

i was visiting my grandma a year after the summer i almost had a sibling and i almost forgot my great grandma and i almost stayed a child and i stepped outside. it was 11:30 everyone was asleep. i stepped outside. the Anacortes air embraced me. hammock. arms. quilt. wall. armchair. railings. the combination of chill and thickness is like a support system. i stepped outside and i remember having the biggest smile on my face. (1. because i was in my favorite place amidst my favorite people. 2. nobody knew i was outside. they were asleep. i felt unknown.) i looked out past the railing to the harbor. the sea flirting with each hull. each boat bobbing. happy.

-i want to be like water. i want to slip through fingers but hold up a ship-

then past the harbor to the shallow hills. coated in evergreens. tall. firm. static. dynamic.

then up. above the collection of trees. the sky orange and purple. but black.

then up more. back. back towards the balcony. i turn around. my back and elbows leaning on the rail. my head suspended backwards. i look up. green. the sky is green. i blink continually and rub my eyes. i must be tired. i look back up. the sky is green! i am the only one awake in the world and the sky is green for me!

Seven.

I dream of the future, probably too(ooooo) often. i have this dream of taking my future family to Orcas Island. we'll fly into Seattle (if we're not living there already). do meaningful things. like pike place. and the sculpture garden. and the museum. and walking. lots of walking. that's how you get to know a place. by treading on it. then we'll drive to Anacortes. we'll pray at the cemetery and bring white carnations. we'll go to the business. we'll have a picnic at Washington park and pick up seashells. we'll pick things out at the antique store. we'll visit tommy's train and "your mother's grandma's house." "this is where your mommy would pick dandelions." "you know the chicken mommy makes for you? that was my grandma's recipe. yep"

blackberry pie. and chewy oatmeal cookies. and warm loaves of bread. 

then. then the ferry ride. "ok. are you guys ready?!" "ok leave your stuff in the car, you won't need it. ok ready! let's race to the deck! the first [insert number of children] to get to the top get ice cream!" they will get to the top first. either because i let them or because i am old.

and we will stand at the tip of the ferry boat and we will see the most beautiful things in nature.

there are no words to describe the glory and magnificence of this nature.