a blog without a hero

I can feel my ribs wrapping around me, holding me in. tomorrow I'm going to japan. I haven't written since december, a month of surrender, an icy isolated winter. I had just returned from india, a dreamy place of grit and color, a spicy smoggy thickness in the air. I was committed to a crisis center. the medication they put me on made me sleep about 20 hours a day, and during the remaining hours I would curl under my quilt, listening to my roommate stumble around and whisper things like 'no, don't know where he gone, you take good care, you hear? money.... money money money.' one day she came in and threw a mcdonalds cup at my head. 'you know where they get those?!' she cried. I sat up, confused. 'just down the block! I had the bus driver take me there... you know... mumble mumble.' I would often walk into the bathroom to find her curled up on the floor. so... I've been there... prague... vancouver... family visits, and on and on.

the world is so crammed, crushed, crawling with contentious creatures, aggressive and opportunistic, who unravel the earth and leave a path of pavement in their wake... and... I just don't know what to say. I want to love. I want to live. I'll write from japan and meanwhile here are some pictures. this is me singing at a recent ice cream creatures show:

and here's a picture that I took of two of my sisters, hope (6) and ali (9).

here I am on a dogsled in vancouver:

and here I am, looking completely retarded, in front of the taj mahal, before the winter of solitude, before winter clothes are dragged out and shoulders and shins are put away.

seacrest out!

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