possibly not

I want to fall asleep
in the sun light that settles in my balcony

letting it warm me, even burn me

just a bit

but

stillness is an effort

my mind and my body

so easily overwhelmed, so constantly frustrated

what is it

everything is fucking fine

Love

love has levels 

it is still love, when I say I love you, and I mean I love 
how you smile, the small sounds you make
the paths your mind takes, where you land
how you land, how you receive 
the way you give

even if
I miss you, but I don't yearn
I don't need to be where you are

it is also love, when I say I love you, and I mean I love
how you make yourself available for me
drop of a hat
how you brought me into this world and cared to keep me happy
my dreams so easily displace yours
and the idea of losing you drowns me in fear
not just sorrow

even if 
it is largely a remnant of childhood
being lost in a crowd having let go of your hand



and of course it is love, when I say I love you, and I mean
there is nothing else 

Hope grows like a weed

I try hard
to plant and tend to
my garden of contentment

but hope grows like a weed

every time I think
I've managed this time, to snip
remove it
poison it
destroy

I sit to enjoy my garden
my eyes relax, my body is calm
and there I see it
again

my heart races

it is so pretty

how the wind catches it
the sun illuminates

no
damn the weed and damn the garden

let me get the flamethrower

Inside

If you broke me open right now
like a coconut smashed in sacrifice 
though I would prefer 
you break me like a fortune cookie 
knowing you'll need to eat the pieces you create

you will find a wish

I'm keeping it hidden
and will not release it till I'm broken

Permanence

If I only feel seen

when you hold the pencil

and draw me into existence

is it so surprising 

that you can erase me out of being

Give me that fucking thing

Crack

(Pencil breaks in 1/3 and 2/3)

I’m holding the instrument now

that shows me

that keeps me here

oh and 

it’s a fucking pen  

Frame

I would need to come live with you. 

For how long? Well, it could be anywhere between a week to a few months, though I usually 'call it' around six months and terminate the assignment, if we haven't got what we set out to do by then. 

Some people are perfectly comfortable letting a stranger into their lives, to record, perfectly happy to be captured just as they are. It could be because they are truly comfortable with how and who they are, though, it's not usually this category who hire me. 

It's more often because they do want 'the truth', they hope to find something in my work that validates their existence, or lets them reframe how they see their lives, themselves. Something they don't need to second guess, clearly they do plenty of that - I mean, that's why they come to me. 

Most often though, it takes a while to break down the facade. Again, the time this takes often lines up with how aware the person is of the existence of a facade and over how many years this has been built and reinforced.

I've noticed though, when you insert yourself into a person's home, which is the closest you get to entering their life - the fastest route, too - cracks appear quicker, and the guard comes down, if nothing out of pure exhaustion of holding up something so heavy for so long. 

What do I charge? 

Well, it depends on the style you want your life and self captured. Wes Anderson is a big favourite. I can do Woody Allen, though people are often embarrassed to request for it. Sure, yes, Noah Baumbach is doable. Black and white too, yes. 

No, I don't usually allow people to choose their own background score. We can talk though.

Alive

though really, staying silent on your blog for countless years does not usually have people suspecting you may be dead. 

What would make people suspect you may be dead? 

see, in this exercise, one has to exclude immediate family members who are used to seeing your face/body on a fairly regular basis. 

others, well

if someone posts a photo of you (preferably sepia/BW), with a teardropface smiley caption. 

if someone sees a bus run over you in a highly unapologetic and smashing manner.

if someone watches you keel over at work and lie on the grimy office floor in a disgraceful fashion. 

if you were standing near a window, with no door in sight, one second, and the next second you were nowhere to be seen. Might help to have an off-white linen curtain flapping rather dramatically out the window.

I'll think of some more.