writing. reading. painting. talking. listening. literacy. people. humanity. the humanities. dancing around like a fool whether or not anyone is looking. cooking. cavorting. creating. watching people. watching people watch me. letting my guard down, keeping it up. my gameface. your gameface. my tattoos. maybe yours. being independent to a fault. changing that. change in general. spinning around in circles until you get so dizzy you fall down. falling in general - my feet. red. creativity. passion. a mindset that isn't set in stone. swingsets. being comfortable in my own skin. fresh flowers. the smell of the morning. the smell of the night. fall in new england. spring in new england. winter in new england for about two weeks. the passing of time and the presence of the moment. keeping my head where my hands are, unless my hands are somewhere gross.wondering why when i was a kid, chasing bubbles around, trying to catch them in my mouth, it never occurred to me that i was making a concerted effort to eat soap.not wondering why i would still eat soap if it seemed like a fun thing to do. fun things. thanksgiving presents. half-birthday presents. presents in general. long walks. meditation. reading the calendar section of the new yorker then wondering why i like reading about things i can't attend. looking up subtle language differences in the economist because i really want to understand. everything. taking my apartment apart and doing it all over again. power tools. home depot. flat paint. solving my living room lighting conundrum. doing it myself. the generally fantastic nature of the seemingly mundane. doing something just to make someone's day that much better. doing things just to see what people will do. finding out what makes people tick and making them talk. moments when nothing at all needs to be said. silence. social experiments, awkward situations, incomplete sentences, run-on sentences and sentences that don't fall into any strict classification. sentences like me.
probably not you. unless you're this guy...and if you are this guy, i want my moves back.
yes, please. lots and lots. sometimes i like to turn it up so i can't hear myself. that's usually when i'm talking too loud or too much which happens to be most of the time. when i'm alone, anyway.
make me laugh or make me think...if they do both, they become like friends.
after nearly eight years without one, i have one. [see above reference to thanksgiving presents]. it seems to take up most of the wall and i had to take a painting down to mount it. i frequently wonder if it was worth it. it's not like i watch television on it or anything. i pretty much pretend it's art.
anything by: anais nin, henry miller, william burroughs, ayn rand, marguerite duras, jeanette winterson, hunter s. thompson, albert camus, bret easton ellis, dorothy parker, sylvia plath, kurt vonnegut, jd salinger, victor hugo, celine, charles bukowski, dave eggers, david sedaristitles other than those by the aforementioned authors: hope for the flowers, the little prince, blink, the celestine prophecy, the bhagavad gita...i could really do this all day. but i've got a book i'm trying to finish.
people who create. and old couples walking down the street holding hands.