Fuck Art, Let's Dance

 He brings roses and leaves them on my bicycle while I work.
I ride home with them in my teeth
the thorns are sharp
I taste blood
and am grateful for the
reminder of flesh on skin.

I woke from dreams of california, the farm, the food. It pushed me back to blog posts of november and december of 2012.  Reading these takes me back to the house on Dry Creek, to the time when shit there started to get more and more out of balance. It also reminded me so clearly of what I was doing there. The life I left, the life I thought I was stepping toward.

More, it was beautiful and I am grateful to have this record of my heart.

***

School starts in the tick-tock number of not too many days. I can hardly breath in anticipation. I get to go to school. I get to learn new things. I get to meet new people.

I met someone from the department yesterday. A fellow artist, a ceramic sculptor, a runner, a father, a formerly enlisted marine. I am not technically interested.

My drives these days are too complex for merely having art, fitness, adventure in common. I need the intangible fluid spark of desire.

I am also somewhat disinterested in pursuing or being pursued by gender specific bio-boys.

***

I take the bike into the shop today. What a blessing to be responsible enough to have full coverage insurance and know how to use it.

I had wanted to spend the last few days out camping alone, this event led me to quickly change my plans. I went running instead. I climbed a mountain with my legs and sweat. As my heart grows more firmly rooted in my heart, I am as thankful for my strength as I am for my vulnerability.