There is permutation ahead.
Perhaps in the form of clarity. Or photographs.
Maybe on the branches that adorn my chest.

Brian Eno.


What is the image in our head when we talk about the essence of femininity?
Does it have anything to do with motherhood or a woman's biological advantages or limitations?
And what about masculinity?
What's the picture?
Beside me lies a book for young women that I was given once.
It discusses why "boys are so weird".
Why is this kind of thought being passed on to daughters everywhere across the Conservative Christian map?
Why is the reinforcing of gender seemingly helpful in the acquisition of a partner?

Is this photo difficult?

Why is androgyny so unfulfilling?


I found it again.
My community is manifested in the eyes and words of these people.
The group that meets downtown on Friday nights for highlights and song choices.
It's just a little place that caught our eye one day,

close to the core of this city of ours.
And the beautiful part is that it is a communal project.
The sort of project that involves white wine,

imported beer, Norwegian gloves and box sets.

This is the very best kind of community.

The kind that has a common understanding of what a city like this entails.
A group that knows how discovering a place to make a niche is essential to finding contentment in a place you've grown up in.
A place with connotations and challenges within.
To be a twenty-something in a city such as this is only made worthwhile when we learn each others values and take on their understanding on nights like this.


Morning Theft:

No longer a student or the roommate of an artist, my community has escaped me. The terrible and sudden kind of escape, the one that comes without warning.

  • The days are spent making meals for unappreciative government employees, and the evenings find their meaning only in conversation and sleep.
  • Tomorrow, a much needed drive in a car where almost everything cosmetic is damaged.
    I will make it, as long as the radio tuner is functioning, and the rain is kept at a distance.
  • A lack of contrast in the sky and repetition of a new Buckley song, I figured it was time to once again step into my own head.