i should make a point.

a love that feels like any two should follow for the sun to shine.

the english language currently uses 171476 words. with all of these i can not write what i am trying to say. i can not describe the emotions within me. i can not put them into words on this surface. i think that typing and the computer generation takes a lot away from us. it ruins the art form of handwriting and puts everyone's word on the same plane. words are an art. the sculpting of the loop in a cursive y, or the way the cross intersects the vertical in a t. that creates a communication that is unparalleled in words itself. i go to art school now so i suppose i should make a point then to show a picture of artwork, that it may show to you what i mean to say.

i miss you, and i love you.

you are that which keeps me moving.

tim.

transparent, illusion of happiness. why?

so i wondered how she hung around this place.

tonight i watched the illusion of happiness. people put on this little show that is so transparent, it might as well be gone. i dont know why they push on if they dont even want to do it. i dont know why they try if they both know its going to end. im not involved here but i feel bad regardless. i feel like i should say something or i should do something to influence them into making the right decisions. one love is falling apart and the both of them know it. the other is a love that will fall apart in time and i dont think there is anything i could say that would make them realize what is happening. both are better than the two have been searching for. find someone that makes you happy. if they dont make you happy then why the hell are you doing it all?

let it go and keep moving.

tim.

a clean desk. an empty bed. a blank wall.

come back, the air on railroad is making the same sound.

whenever you live in a place you change your perspective a little. i think more than any one thing in the world (in our world) life's many locations influence the outcomes in a grander scale. the car wreck you watched that sent metal and glass dust flying did not even make a dent on the house your friend lived in at woods edge bend in fourth grade. and that could have been you. locations are more important to the outcome of your life than you may give them credit for.

i have been here now for only 8 months and some odd days. when i came, i knew one person who hated me. that was the loneliest 6 hours of my life. then it all changed. as if i was trying to grow a plant in a swamp and suddenly all of the water dried up but that which is most necessary for life. the flower sprouted and from it came a beautiful life that has grown ever since. now, one by one, the people around have vanished. they left before the dust even settled, and like that car wreck it did not make a dent on the life of things. 

the part that hits you. the part that tears you. well thats the space you are left with. a clean desk. an empty bed. a blank wall. where afternoons were filled with laughter and happiness there is only silence. while you wish there was more you could say about it, there is only a place. a place that influences you more than you may know right now.

it is loneliness that gets me. it is watching them leave one by one. it is ending where i started. but it is all i have. if just to keep moving.

tim.

all i can think of is the same day over and over again.

in the daylight we can hitchhike to maine.

i just want to stay here for a while. not this location. i could care less. i want to be there for a while. i am a little tired of all of this. the whole day i can not wait until its sunset. the whole night i am dying for the sunrise. i am trying to find a solid meaning in the feeling in me right now, but i can not find any good reason in me. i am conflicted in every way i could be. all i can think of is the same day over and over again. it was a good day. not a great day. it was fall. of course fall is always my favorite season when i look back, but never when i am there. it was raining though. i was taking pictures with a friend and the rain just kept coming down on me but i didnt care. i stayed out late on a weekday night and said it was for work, but i just wanted to be away for a bit. no one would have noticed if i did not come home that night. that was the best part of it all. it was the first and last time that everything would come together just right to leave no one there for me. i was a different person and from that point on i have never been that person again. now i am better.

keep moving.

tim.

so they can think it is uphill.

it rings like all through the daylight.

The end is coming and i must say i am not really surprised. I have been writing about how i want to get out of here, but the more i think about it the more i dont want to go home. i have gotten used to being away from it all and i think that i am really better for it.

something that is terrifying me is the concept of money tied to all of our happiness these days. i remember when i just didnt care. i would like to say that now i dont, but it does seem to take me over. whatever happened to not having to worry? are you really and truly not able to live the way you want in this world? the idea of unattainable has begun to slip into my mind. it was a word that i never really considered, but now i am seeing a little more of it everyday as i think about how i can live and how i want to live. i have been trying to discover what midlife crisis means and i have begun to come to the conclusion that it is the realization of the unattainable. the idea that this is as good as it gets and nothing is really going to top it so its all downhill from here. thats why people have the church. so that they can think it is going uphill. makes you a little less depressed i guess. i sort of see it the same way either way. there is no end to what we are. so is there even a word unattainable? we keep moving and we find out. never stop. keep moving.

tim.

had a dream last night.

miles and miles above and between them.

there is a truck with me in it and the sky is gray. not gray like purple overcast skies, but gray like desaturated black and white gray. the grass is purple and the trees are green. at least one thing is right. the wind blows in from the south east. its dry, but the dirt doesnt come with the wind. i wonder how long its been and how long its going to be. the rocks of the canyon walls are getting closer now. blood red and full of life. scent of pine, but only maples around. just realized im not driving and no one is, but i dont mind. it seems to be doing fine on its own. i dont think i am going anywhere. i am not really in a hurry. never really in a hurry. id just like to know where i am going.

had a dream last night and thats what it was. i looked on the webernet for a reason behind it all. the truck means an overwhelming sense of responsibility. the purple means i have begun showing undying devotion to one aspect of my life. the sky means that i have been or am beginning to be creative. the canyon is the approaching of responsibility.

What i wonder and have wondered is where is the defining line of dream and reality? to make reality one must perceive it with their mind and their senses. i am indeed perceiving the dream with senses all but touch. it was not always like that though. i never used to have dreams with color and it was only until recently that i dream of scent. is this a warning of the developments to come is what i wonder. in other words when i perceive all senses in my mind in my dreams has that become a reality? what line says that this is real and this is not. i would love so much to cross that line and tell you of it all. everything has been explored in our reality. i want something new, but most importantly i want something that is mine. this is something that has begun to become true to me. keep moving.

tim.

i have had enough for now.

spend my days in the city.

i cannot help but want to be home. maybe not home, but not here. i can only take one place for so long and i think i have had enough for now. really though lately it is not myself that has had enough. it seems that this place has had enough of me. the people, the place, the everything. i put up with it for a bit, but i am reaching my ends to it.

more than this though, my battle of late is finding validation in my work. i hate to say it but the world does not really care what you think, only what it thinks. in art you must appeal to the masses even if it means selling out and quite frankly i do not give in. i never have been a pushover and it is not what i plan on doing for the next 50 years. i wish i could concentrate and write, but i am so angry just thinking about it. i think i will wait to write what i mean for a little while because this wont end up working for the either of us. keep moving.

tim.