I am back from Denver and it turns out I like it a lot when people say my name three times in a row.
We had three crazy insane cab drivers in Denver. The first one I was afraid of because I thought he was a murderer. It was because of how he talked about the weather. The second one told us he was a buddhist media activist, and that he made movies with a budget of three dollars, and he made four or so a week. The third one kept wanting to talk about east coast versus west coast and kept saying, "You know what I mean?" At the end.

Steve Buscemi is directing a new movie called Lonesome Jim. Soderbergh is directing a new movie called Bubble where only uses town people and doesn't use actors, and he directed "Traffic" and Oceans Eleven and Erin Brokovitch and Kafka and some other indie stuff.

I like these magazines; Filter, Under the Radar, and 10 which is an English Fashion magazine that is quatertly and humungo and lively.

I miss all of my friends. It's Saturday night and I just got in.

Here is what I was thinking about:there is no sort of balloon that can lift you up into a world that is different than this one. you could maybe get yourself on top of a building or into an airplane and see how small we all are crawling on top of each other but that is expensive I think. you have to pay entrance to get into most really big buildings. you could make friends with a janitor and you could work in one of those buildings but it will depend if you feel like work is rewarding. I have such a disease as this and I am not all that tall and sometimes I think this is good and other times I’d like to be able to reach the light above my seat in a passenger aircraft.

aircraft.

you might become a storyteller and sit in a gingham dress where it always smells like cookies and think of the kinds of children you would like to have and which you would name garrett or Sophia or violet. you might look down at your feet and wiggle your toes and see them resemble earthworms and wish it was summer and raining and you were out on a terrace wearing all blue and hearing dusty Springfield being sung by your neighbor in the yard next door while she waters her plants even though it’s raining. just because it’s three o’clock and wednesday she waters her plants. her name might be Ophelia.

that doesn’t mean she is tragic.

or you might have a favorite blanket and a yellow balloon that never deflates in your room that you draw animals on. the animals might wear clothes you design, too, based on movies you watch in your brown blanket with your yellow couch in the dead of winter and in the center of summer.

which leads us to the conclusion, me and you on this musing journey, that everything is climbing upward slowly, though it seems dangerously fast at times when the world is having a growth spurt and your eyes are closed really tight and your hands are looking for something to hold onto because the weather makes you feel like if you reach something might appear there, like those seeds that float from dandelions when they are ripe with age.