# 5 || "I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop."

how does one stay in a consistent state of inspiration - always merry, never triste?

x

# 4 || edelweiss

(images taken by a friend)


janvier has always been a curious month: a Coffee & Cigarettes, a wake-up-take-your-pills-dear, a put-me-on-a-plane-fly-me-to-anywhere . . . but we save our souls with barefeet and bike rides, Edwelweiss has flowers in her hair. i forgot how to write when i fell heart-over-head in lust, but with my sparkle learning how to twinkle brighter and brighter each day, i think i will be okay for a little while. there is more poetry in sorrow, i don't know if i wish there was as much literary magic in transcendence as there is in a dirty demise.

16 sleeps until a fleeting flight across the sea towards the tropics - i can't wait for camera play and guava juice and lotsa time with my family. coltish and coruscating, candid conversations and falling in and out of love with everybody and everything. my hair won't grow but it doesn't do to fret about things that will untangle themselves with a little encouragement and a lot of hope.

i'll never forget when she enchanted me with words in Amsterdam two years ago. everything made the most sense i thought it ever had and knew it ever would. her beautiful eyes were wider than usual as she proclaimed with all the sincerity i love her for: You've always go to have hope.



x

# 3 || sip on moonlight

lately i'm aching to fall in love with a human heart how i've fallen in love with the clouds. but the beauty and mystery seems to be sufficient, the one-sided conversations nourish my soul and the infinity in everything keeps wonder alive. chérie, you have to learn how to say, So be it ! with every fibre of your being you must believe it, that the morals you cherish, whatever they may be -- they're yours, so hold your head up (but not high), and love. love the thunder and sadness and difference in opinion.

do writers write to remind themselves of how things could be and how they should be, but not how they are? it's a curious blend of pessimism but also a glasse half-full. perhaps writing about it will help you understand, but sometimes i think all it really does is romanticise the emotions only in part. where does the rest go?

let's raise our teacups to a 2012 beyond anything you've imagined. dearest journal, i can't wait to see where you go & who you become.

x