I walk around with my shirt off, as I like to.

“Meet me in the summertime
I will meet you there.”

–D. Grohl

The state of fuzz shall be reviewed, not that we think anything is out of range per the respectable data. But I will state it here.

My fuzz is half-dead. Just bleeding a lot, like Mr. Orange. I cut the two fake worlds I shared my life in. ‘book and …Bubble got thrown out. In all fairness to the deal, I still get the occasional ‘book message from my national fraternity and a crazy Australian.

But I read and decist.

The second half is slagging. Slagging behind. I slagged into second base. I don’t like that word anymore. It was a wet snow and we slagged down the hill. Going down? Right? I love my photos. I love the second I took it. And every other second I spent looking at it. I spend too much time putting my photos on another site, the other camera. Not the one you wait up for. Not the one you wake back up, because its down on the coach and not under your pillow. I shot a fountain, a flag, a flame and a video. Our country rests and enjoys its development. And I get scared. Can I show you what I see…every step and stutter? I get off a bus and see sorrow that is cold, always cold.

The worst torture in life is not the burn of sun, sting of sand or the water drip. Its the cold. The cold starts out…sneaks in and come out to the top again. Have you ever shivered? Same feeling. But multiply by degrees dropped. Shivers don’t become fun, like an sneeze when that snot shot out. If you haven’t had that glory of it, flipping at remarkable speed I suggest you try.

I want a dog. One of the shortest sentences they teach you to write. Jack in the box. Its fun to write the ‘x’ and I want it to be by signature. Good once, always good? I take care of something electronic…plug the toy in. I want a creature, some emotions, mostly need. I don’t need the basketball, but love it still. Basketballs never warm up, as they seem to in all that netting. Animals warm up. A cat crawling on you or laying there and swat their tail at your nose. Juiea, would do it. My sister’s cat. Our first, and last, cat to stayin the house. Young as six, I was crawling in between floor boards to bring little kittens out. Walked into the goat shed in the backyard one summer morning and saw a lot of wet everywhere. Two baby goats in the barn, one (mine) named Firecracker and my sister’s a little black and white (Liberty). Two goats and two nerds. Let it begin.

I’ve cared for plenty an animal. Had a horse. Claudia. White “C” in between her eyes. Spry quarter horse, she was. I would stand in the field, ready to feed her and watch as she ran sprints past me. I never climbed up on her back. Just tried to out-run her.

See how I deflected from the “Fuzz”. Ok, I haven’t submitted a photo. But see where I’m getting my photos. Four different publications at the College. If you’re reading this, you know where its at. This is my animal. The one I take care of. Read time after time, hang out behind the curtain. Oz. Ok, Oz didn’t have a sophisticated document organizer. And he doesn’t have the short hair. I swear, I amtrying everything ladies. No one cares? I can still dunk. Anyone like basketball anymore? Its become a NASCAR nation. Ok, I love Jacoby Ellsbury too. Nicest swing since Mike Greenwell. If you are still reading, have you checked your phone….maybe somebody texted you.

I hate the digital era. I hope it hears me. I’ve cracked and I’ve thrown it down. I tried every day on our computer. Went on the world wide web in house in Connecticut and was looking to see what people are doing. I’ve seen it. At least 1% of it. I’ve got an email account (ok, two) and a server password, fantasy sport password, and a instant messanger name (two again). The sad thing is, I don’t knowmy neighbors. Had bried exchanges and looks, small comment. To people three and four doors down. What is that? No block cookout, no families know all. An invisible force field on each side of the street. Best house to watch: new young couple on the corner. Matching GMC model two doors. Little dog. And I only ever see him walk the dog. She’s a pretty blonde but never outside. The dog’s name is Manny. I want to get a dog and call it Papi. Back to back! So my man walks Manny, up and down a 20 foot area. Manny never stops barking. I love it. I can’t hear it and some one else can’t get him to shut up. I don’t like little dogs. Own up to that, uncheck my bubble on Match. Cats, I’ll leave out. I’d rather have a chicken – Rhode Island red. Chicken won’t walk on my face. And it will go shopping for breakfast. Two sun-side up, please. I subsist at the digital era, looks like I’ll take a final swing through the emails before the night is over.

I wrote some jumbling words bottled up the other day on the way to the Free Library (obsessed with John Adams right now). If I can’t findit, I’ll thumb into the vaults. Listen to this Brad Paisley song called Letters to Me in the meantime.

Went to over a year ago…and five before that.

1.25.07

Sweet Smell

A day by day pursuit
the search for a content soul.
Push down the doubts
rise up the flowers of promise.
Some days I feast on my fears
wrapped with twinges of jealousy.

Control comes seldom
washed over with faces of the past.
I bring her into my head
a strong vision of the truth.
She told me to leave
get out of my shell and run a risk.

I seldom listen
beyond my feelings
trapped by self-doubt and pain.

Her Cheshire-cat smile hands me
the motivation to dream.

I owe you a treasure
something re-paid in friendship.

Stay by my sides
and in my head
its a long ride.

–VC