people watching

[best way i could think to introduce/welcome]
hear the gate through the window so i walk out my door.
"i love you"
"hi squirt"

ive been on my way to considering giving all this up. who needs yet another person pushing consumerism down their throat, no one need another person telling them from the page what they already know and are too afraid to admit. who needs to be sold anything in this country anymore. we've got it already down, in our heads, in our closets, in our voices...that sweet fakeness every teen girl adopts by age 16, its coming out of our tv screens and through our stereos. everything is sugar coated, we know it all but still have no real idea. the hearts in this country are turning to ashes. we're speeding down the path to death of so much than life faster than we drive down the freeway, why would i join in and launch myself into a downward spiral? so what about i go and do something worth God's time. refugee camps, civil war, alcoholics and druggies, handicapped, abused children, rape, murder, persecuted Christians.
Matthew 25:34-36, 40 - "'For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'"..."The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'"

this is how far i got with my songs:
human - jon mclaughlin
someday - nickelback
try too hard - teddy geiger
its too late - carole king
amelia's missing - jon mclaughlin
just give it time - jon mclaughlin
testify to love - avalon
off by heart - city and colour
ant farm - eels
escuchame - jaci velasquez
cannonball - damien rice
how could i survive - neverending white lights
how come - ray lamontagne

a while ago we had chinese. two cookies...two fortunes:
#1: you have discovered a jewel. cherish it.
#2: there are big changes for you but you will be happy.

[on a different note; at the park]

its the visual and active part of things that really does the job in cleaning my head. i have to go fast or far, and i need change and newness...presence. its the idea that as i go, i lose some of the nonsense so whats left is free to straighten itself out. more distance, more movement, more wind slapping me over the face.
"oh, i think itll be cute, little baseball hat, knapsack, show up with the video camera, make him watch it when he turns sixteen...i think ill take the day off work too."

"i go to lift you out and you push my hand away...how am i supposed to help you?"
little bike with orange fluorescent wheels, orange flag off the back, and a yellow bell. yellow slippers, dry bathing suit bottoms, wiggly bottom, and childish mumbles from a raspy smokers voice. boy with a girls name. creepy girl with her blue pen.
"wanna know why? cause he wants to try to get more pushes"
"now we're playing musical swings"
im not going to be the type of mother that talks down to her children.
"i cant remember the last time i was on a swing"
ya, thats right. give the park back to its children. yep, lets stare at the writing girl...aaaand there goes the soles of your shoes.
"now with the school board you have to fill out ten different forms to go on a picnic!"

this, this is where i want to be left, here long enough that i can tell the difference in the clouds from the time i come to the time i leave. its the moments i cant resist. its wearing the wrong shoes because they're more comfortable. its that bird is hopping from one reed to the next trying to find one thatll hold it. how many times have you passed up on a moment cause the timing was off, or you were trying to stay sane and make decisions you felt good about. "hold on let me fix my gears." hold on, let me fix my morals.

there was an old, put together, man in the park. he was people watching. he walked around the park once, i lost track of him a few times. high black dress socks, a truckers hat that didnt quite fit his head, and on his walk around, he found a walking stick. he shaved it off, sanding it smooth, on the curb. the awkward part: he was people watching me and i was people watching him.

five minutes to six and nothing down on paper yet.
its this: what have i already given.

the thought is so glorious. "it all seems so romantic til you land. ting. romance dead"

max.

i still cant post. everything has become so fact.

applicable?
what, can you do me greater harm than hate? hate me? wherefore! what news my love! am not i hermia? are not you lysander?...since night you loved me, yet since night you left me! why, you left me, o the gods forbid, in earnest shall i say!?