# 7 || im(mort)al march

Dear _____________________,












what do you do when everything is as fickle as a firefly? what to you do when you can't tell what is real and what is a figment of your hyperactive imagination? what do you do when you forget how to play by the rules? chérie, you know how easy it is to fall into that infinite hollow of doubt and disbelief. this game is about holding on to something beautiful even though you've yet to experience it. it's about looking through those rose-coloured lenses out across the sea. look at other people to see what their needs are, look to understand them. it's almost like forgetting yourself.

our task is to have an acute awareness of other people, and figure out how to demonstrate that we truly love them. because humans are doomed to forget, or destined to be distracted from what is closest to our hearts. do you long for a return to eternity in a state of purity as much as i do? we understand each other in accord with our own feelings, but you must seek to know secrets! our pleasure is limited to the sensory realm. & for many of us, this is the level at which it remains.

lately i've felt more like a mad hatter than a March hare. bon automne, mes amis. i hope you celebrate with cinnamon, vanilla and apple-flavoured magic & don't disappear completely underneath your sweaters and scarves. not for too long, anyway.


x

# 6 || s t o p t h e w o r l d & m e l t w i t h y o u

"Every time I look into his eyes I just want to take the ice cream or whatever I’ve got in my hand and rub it into his face. That’s how much I like him."

— Banana Yoshimoto, Goodbye Tsugumi.







images by my dear friend, andrew h.

suddenly all the sitcoms, songs and stories make sense, and my metal heart aches in a way i have never felt before. but we can get by with camera play on a hot summer day, gold-glitter nail polish and long list of things to look forward to. lmff, a potential été in northern france & adventures beaucoup. i don't believe in luck, i believe in the stars. everything could be as perfect as you can imagine it. maybe i say it tonight but not tomorrow, still - it doesn't hurt to try and document the faith that has filled me to the brim tonight.

positivity is always worth it & and perhaps patience really is a virtue. design the dream you'd love to live, sip on reali-tea & it'll fall down the rabbit hole and into place. i can't believe it's almost time to March.


x

# 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