your refression wills mine own into possibility - reading this needs me to refresh myself, a morning, sometime, refind that same lost sweet and natural and quiet, and aware, that beauty and peace and freedom again, away from these cram-crowded streets and freezing blue fog and terrible drivers and pissed-off tourists and slight-skinned drugees, thieves and swine and anger, frantic and dirty, cramped claustraphobia - that's life in the ugly beach city where everyone is for pleasure and everything is for show. I need my plains and fields, blowing quiet, the warm winds of a hot summer night, the echo of nothingness, the birds and pine trees, lakes and trails, and a house of familiarity and bohemia, of gypsies and vegetarians and tattered prettiness, clothes long and hair scooped up. A house without judgements and complaints, but only smiles and laughter, with people all-forgiving and in love, of respect and friendship and unspoken truth and trust; it's a life lost. I could use a refression and your description is making my little tired eyes tear up with memory of something so far gone from life right now that I have to look at pictures to even know it might still exist, away from the misery here. My friends told me not to blog anymore because I was beginning to offend them - then so be it. My blogs don't lie, nor do I. I tell how I feel, and I feel the fakeness of these drunk dark-downspiraling negativities. I wish we could all shake and wake up into the pure blue morning light sky, and feel the refresh of a new free life without fake, without cramped, without blinders, without fog, without anger, without stress, without opaquity, without limits, with spirits and with freedom. It's soon enough for me, and I wish nothing more than to give it also to these people. I brag about my roots every day of my life here, and every day people don't really believe or understand what I'm talking about. This is what I'm talking about, and Heather you bring it back into my life just by briefly passively blogging a quick hello to cyberspace, reminding those of us lost that there's more to life than microcosmic santa cruz shit.
Love you Heater, goodnight.