Audrey quoted my long distance consolations with red tape and sent them back as a polaroid postcard. That was a couple years ago. Last week I had it framed.

I'm sorry for my reflection in the glass.

Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

Martin McMurray, Rostarr, ReRo. Click imgs for cred.

I gathered my concert tickets from 2005 and cut the letters P, A, R, T, Y out of the first five I found. With the rest, I cut every M, A, R, T, Y and S out of the tickets and assembled as many instances of "martys" as I could. When certain letters ran out, I wrote the word with those letters missing. M and Y were the most rare; A and S were the most prolific.

The word martyr derives from the greek word martys, to witness.

Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly sing his knell:
Hark! now I hear them -- Ding-dong, bell.

from The Tempest

Sarah's third birthday was today. We celebrated in Dolores Park. Her father, Minne, waited in line for over an hour at the bakery around the corner. It was generally acknowledged as a heroic act when he came with cake, croissants, quiche.

I caught a train at noon heading towards the South Bay. After thirty minutes of reading about Leopold Bloom I realized I was no longer moving and there was nobody else on the train. I took off my headphones just as the conductor came through. "I guess you didn't hear the announcement that the train was out of service."

"No."

Right now I'm alone in Burlingame with two dogs. I looked through the cupboards and found a purple box of Annie's pasta, which I'm eating now.

My friend sent a picture of someone else living in my old apartment.

The floors are different. A wall is painted white and the stones don't quite line up with my photo from 2001. The photo she found was probably from the flat next door. We lived on a tiny street near Atwater station in Montréal, across from the children's hospital.

Taken by William Eggleston, late one summer night, 1973. Memphis.

"Untitled (Ixone)", 2006. Ryan Foerster.

Red de Leon, date unknown, but recent.

We remind each other