big goddamn river blues

cried all night til there was nothing more
what use am i | as a heap on the floor?
o-o-old habits die hard
oh, when you got | when you got a sentimental heart.

that, and luda. billy bragg. sara b.
songs of the week.
hearing from: the jungle. mr. habermann. my own personal puerto rican diaz and the girl who wrote the lightbulb story (or maybe she's the one with the circus in the forest). sethela. running with happy dogs who jump up and down and stay by your side. wall-e and eeeeeva. walking home on e street. protests in the square.

angry red scratches from prickly bush branches in the west virginian mountains. climbing in altitude til we get to the sky [muir and whitman were right - the restless and rattled and un-nerved folk will return when we need to feel the sun beams in all of their full-dazzling] drinking too much in the nighttime on rooftops where you can see the monuments on all sides. peanut butter and banana smores. stream beds and reminiscing over the sidewalk revolutionaries (forever in my head with amsterdam and the lord of war, up in the heavy air, down on the street yellow lights flashing, leaning in on the dock with the thunder rip rolling along the lake, river floats and river kisses; rivers, generally speaking.) van morrison.

shorts - not the pants kind, but the story kind, the movie kind, the life kind. salsa dancing with crazy m under an eritrean moon. jumping the trolley rail on H. saki and sushi. strawberry tea. thinking maybe i already had my chance and it didn't work out so i won't get another and contemplating eating egg salad sandwiches by myself until i'm the same age as betty white (88) even though i probably won't live much passed 43 and then who will eat egg salad sandwiches when i'm gone?

jumping from bridges.