The air hits me, a tinge of avarice...  those gay holiday spices.

Immersed in the fire, transfixed on a single ember,

A big ruby of an eye, 

Pure mind, nostalgic state of consciousness... maybe its the

Cedar smoke; it takes you back to that huge house, you know the place.

The place where nothing mattered, you could run naked &

Dance

Scream

Whisper

and you would receive nothing but smiles.

"How do fish sleep?" says a cousin...

Vapid nonsense,

Any speech, any noise is pesky, you just want to remain untouched in this clear state.

Rangy Poplar fingers, with their blackened joints riddle with arthritis

Curl and straighten in the inferno, are they trying to stretch?

Are the logs in pain? maybe they're screaming at the top of their lungs, being burnt alive 

And they receive nothing but vacuous stares.

You look up at the heavens, your face cooked by the heat

And think to yourself

Time spent in front of a fire is never wasted.

Fall has sprung. I love the first day at the end of the summer when

"Rabbit's clever," said Pooh thoughtfully.
"Yes," said Piglet, "Rabbit's clever."
"And he has Brain."
"Yes," said Piglet, "Rabbit has Brain."
There was a long silence.
"I suppose," said Pooh, "that that's the reason why he never understands anything."

The Tao of Pooh

"Madame, all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you."

-Ernest Hemingway

I have the same bike, 

same vintage, same

color. It's a small

world.

Dennis

**** 9231.

People are very into their bikes in Boise... If the phone number hadn't been torn out then maybe I would know who to call if my bike is ever stolen!

Today, I tried to delete my Facebook page. It then proceeded to ask me:

"Bridger: Why are you leaving us?"
I instantly felt guilty...
"I--I don't know why I AM leaving you Facebook?!?! What was I thinking? Psshhh I'm sorry Facebook, I'm sorry."
"Thank you for staying with us, Bridger."
"Yeah, yeah... So, we cool?"
"..."
"We're cool right? Facebook?"

Buddy

My beloved dog ran away last night. We searched all morning until a woman showed up at our door with Buddy. He had been running through a particularly busy street while she was on her paper route.
"You have a vunderful dog." she says in a Slovakian accent. (Well, something Slavic anyway).
"He eez open to very interesting conversation. If, and dis vill probably never happen, you want to give him up, call me."
However quite flummoxed by this statement, I say thank you and thankfully bring Buddy back inside.
The mysterious and beguiling woman floated back down my street... I feel strangely moved by the statement. Was this a joke? I had that tranquil and intimate state of consciousness like when you are walking through the woods and you see a bear; you both lock eyes for a second and the animal moves on as if wanting not to be seen.
It was just that second of visual connection that gave me the feeling that she had peered into my thoughts and soul.

Alive

He wakes up. Reboots, remembers who he is, what he's like, and what he needs to do.
He showers to wash off the flustered restlessness from last night's plenary of dreaming.
The dreams comfort him, give him something new.
The stove knob is turned- no spark. The acrid gas floats. The smell is bitter to him, but he inspires anyway.
Maybe to wake himself up, to remind himself of what page of the comic book he is in.
It is nauseating, but he breathes even deeper, making him giddy.

In the haze of morning someone asks him if he has a piece of gum. He has one last piece but doesn't give it to them.

A clover appears to him, insignificant to everyone else.
He adores it, by himself in the middle of a field.
The fact that it exists there, next to him; makes him euphoric- almost to the point of tears.
It's three little glazed over eyes look through his shaking body.
"It's... beautiful." he stammers.
The pure blissful simplicity of it, of everything, galvanizes him.

He relishes and sees the tranquilly in every aspect of life.
He is pure in every thought.
He is alive.

obviously...

Sometimes I’m confused by what I think is really obvious. But what I think is really obvious obviously isn’t obvious…

“The mild, blue-eyed young Ohio boy was a complete egotist, as all children are egotists. He did not want friends for the quite simple reason that no child wants friends. He wanted most of all the people of his own mind, people whom he could really talk, people he could harangue and scold by the hour, servants, you see, to his fancy. Among these people he was always self-confident and bold. They might talk, to be sure, and even have opinions of their own, but always he talked last and best. He was like a writer busy among the figures of his brain, a kind of tiny blue-eyed king he was, in a six- dollar room facing Washington Square in the City of New York.”

—	Enoch Robinson

Imo Gene

Beautiful alpine glow up at Imo Gene Lake in the Sawtooth mountains. It was almost pitch black, then got so bright it felt like daytime. The landscape's way of saying:

 "Goodnight!"

perspective.

Im like many of them. Sitting in this dimly lit cafe bistro in downtown Boise, surrounded like people like me. They sit with their MacBooks, some getting shit done, others just aimlessly messing around; typing noisily but only in attempt to get others to think that they are getting Shit done. And then there are ones like me, not here for a reason, just here because they can be. We float around not really looking for anything, just...
A man says something loud and I look over at him- he looks back at me. We lock eyes. He says "Hello, and how are you? I don't have to say that you know, I have the choice not to. Those people over at the big paces like Starbucks... they won't even say a simple Hello!?." (He acts as if he works here)
"I was just looking up the meaning of abortion- do you know what that means?"
"Yes" I reply, expecting a preach for the next hour of my life.
"I always used murder in the place of that word."
He then ventures on an elaborate scare tactical rant about abortion, claiming that there is a procedure today that aborts the babies right before they are about to be born. That they "fight the needle."
"Did you know that they put a pill into the cervix- say, do you know what that is? and the baby comes out. Without strong enough lungs, it takes the baby hours to die, in which they throw it away."
With his lack of knowledge for two words that anyone should know, I get the feeling that he could easily be a schizophrenic, and that he is supposedly destined to come to this earth and stop it.
He connects it to a story that is white noise to any kid thrown into Sunday school by their parents. This white noise I listen to skeptically, thinking that his conservatism (not to mention his stench) was starting to rub off on me.
This is common in Boise. People rome the streets with a hip appearance and attempt to appeal to the kids and talk to them about Jesus.
"Do you have time to talk about Jesus?"
"No I fucking don't."
Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike these people in any way, their ways just piss sometimes...
I do always find it entertaining when they tell me to go to church or to convert to mormonism... that they would be saving me. Im all for expressing your beliefs, but for them to pop up out of the blue and assume that I need to be saved from my supposed "life of sinning?" Thats what gets me the most. Because I could be infinitely happier than they are and they could not even fathom it. With no conceptual help form God. It would be just the same for me to approach them and INSIST that they go out and do a couple turns in the mountains- that they would be lead to salvation from their dreary lives, that they would be saved.
"Well no, I'm perfectly happy, I have found Jesus to lead me."
It's all about perspective.