and from an anonymous contributer:

and:

if i could be anyone, it would be a member of a

we-are-friends-who-love-creating-together group.

another cyberfriend.

[Ana Kras on thecompanyofpeople.com]

kindred spirits, theoneswelove.org

this is a nice website.

i feel like maybe they are our cyber-friends.

they are that person at the bus stop wearing your favorite mittens.

[olivia malone:]

[indiana caba:]

I want love to stretch it's fingers wide
And touch on all our wandering parts.
Come sit by my Californian side
With your Carolina heart.

If you let me be your anchor
I will hold you down.

ah monday morning.

Is there a lot of stuff you don't understand? she said & I said pretty much the whole thing & she nodded & said that's what she thought, but it was nice to hear it anyway & we sat there in the porch swing, listening to the wind & growing up together.

[brian andreas]

an oldie but goodie.

happy tuesday.

but an idea from last december first.

dear blog readers (and mate. thatsyouwoman),

i am feeling quite overwhlemed this week with real world things. so i am trying to make time to blog, but i am spending entire afternoons updating resumes, writing coverletters, and filling out online profiles on service program banks. my idea is this: if i work very very hard, and work towards loving working very hard, then i can be done withthis by the end of the week and at least feel comforted that i have started to think about what to do with my next few years.

things i love today: my black cat asleep in a mess of white down comforter-ness, striped socks, lunch dates, sunshine on fall days, milwaukee love book projects, and lunch meat.

i will be back in full force. i promise. but even detail warder lovers have to be serious sometimes.

love, n/a

to love: words.

if everything you want is something you couldn't have
go outside awhile, look up and count the clouds.

- musician/artist extraordinaire, ryan adams

quiet raw self love.

today.

[there have been a lot of selfportraits this week. hm.]

If there is any secret to this life I live, this is it: the sound of what cannot be seen sings within everything that can. & there is nothing more to it than that [b.andreas].