A name spoken

 I hesitate to speak a name and tremble that every syllable(삼) carries a fireworks explosion.  I tiptoe around the vowels and consonants, for fear every curve and turn would betray the immensity that lies underneath.  Why does vocalizing certain things feel like there is terrain to be crossed, and one can imagine the words as paths through some personal undergrowth? Every little millisecond of tone is atomized to cover everything with emotionally charged dew. Will I remember what this felt like...when I learn to speak these sounds?

Familiar Murmurs

In the beginning, there was only one language.  But progressively, the external English-filled world brought division, and I found myself losing touch with my mother tongue.  I sat by the ebony table etched with abalone cranes eating wedges of apples and Jeju mandarins, zoning out to quiet conversations among my relatives---soft murmurs and occasional words I could recognize.  Years later, I find myself in the modern day living room, in calls with people from all over the world.  Today, I hear the melodic words of my Thai friends and cannot understand a single word although the sounds have become familiar.  The worries of the day dissipate; everything feels meditative, and little do my friends know how much their presence means to me, and how it brings me back to my childhood. 

Happiness is...

things that remind you to feel deeply and stay reflective...

Dialogue and Inner Monologues

 This is just to say (hey there W.C.Williams!)

Moments from shows and things make me curious about what is in everyone's headspace, and then I end up contacting those who matter at that particular moment in what I feel may be a small inching tiptoe towards some sort of character development---if only a semblance of some mental stretching to reach out and link thought fingers (hmmm...) with others. (<--this is junky and long, but just gonna leave it here to commemorate my 4am brain fart.) Anyhoo, today I thought about all those people with whom I bounced ideas and was thankful. This is kinda personal garbledegook, but then again, everything is. 

Must stay dry

Dust particles in the sunlight through the redwood trees:

the driest fluidity you ever did see. Surrounded by the liminal,

I become an object of projection---a voice, the semblance of presence---

ever tiptoeing around the you's I've created too.  In constant rewind to a state of acquaintance, we meet 

again and again captured in a sunbeam passing through digital trees. 

Transports

 You move a pillow away from the windows for fear the cold air might make it shiver. You keep your shabby toys together with the new; the faded little lion might be lonely.  The petals from a rose--you keep them in a little book until they are translucent--the beautiful now coursing through the fragile lacy veins. Empathy for the inanimate! How we decorate our paths with these emotive stones!

위하여

 

a little nervous and unsure: an ep album of a collection of me's over time comes out tomorrow.  i dont know what will come of it or if it will mean i can write new songs again, but am appreciative of all the things that inspire(d) me, even if for a fleeting second of a day.  wish i could hold onto the white lights i think of lining the streets--the fireflies of the cities--when i feel this way.  wish i could take the cobalt skies of concert nights in california and keep them in my mind's eye a little longer...