Everything is a pattern

23 04 2012


Like the motif I spent the weekend painting on the wall, like the cycle of the fruit tree from which I am currently eating an orange, like the comets that come around earth once every 160 years, like it inevitably snows in April in Buffalo, like I’ll get up and go to work again tomorrow just like i did today, like the dread of picking up someone at the airport for the fear of the emergence of a pattern of secret baggage.

Now that I’ve learned that my pickup services are not required, I am not sure whether to feel better or worse. Perhaps it’s my mood and the weather trying to reach some sort of (wet, cold, slushy, grey) equilibrium.

Ultimately, does it matter? Patterns repeat but their frequency cannot be established until multiple points on a line start to show up. Maybe it’s once every 160 years and I won’t be here the next time around. Maybe it’s something already there that I can feel but cannot see.


5-second story

22 04 2012

Today at work, a customer, a man, asked about my ring tattoo. I gave him the story in a friendly way and he responded by touching it. Not just a touch, but repeatedly slowly rubbing his finger over it, as if giving a finger massage. Was it to feel its permanence, as I suggested was its significance, its presence as an object (as if the skin there should have been raised like a ring), or seeing if it would rub off instead–even if just a little (nothing is ever truly permanent)?

let it go

27 03 2012


The Fuzzy one

3 02 2012

Fuzzy one

Sometimes I look at my cat and wonder if it is possible that he is so huge because he is half bobcat.

Sometimes I think maybe I could live my life having all cats and no kids.

the ever-fixed mark

5 01 2012

A page torn from a magazine bearing a fashion advertisement making use of a few lines from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116 hung on my teenage bedroom wall.

Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds

Or bends with the remover to remove

O no! It is an ever-fixed mark