:: on working at a church, and trying to be everything to everyone ::

I can't.

:: family ::

:: bali ::

:: in the jungle ::

Rain.

Flying to Parobut.

A light load.

Bath time.

:: sleep ::

Sleep is the most
unsurprising ending to a day
But it always catches me when I'm not quite
ready -- not quite finished thinking through
How I could've said that better.
When she said that I felt so
alone. Well, I can't live it over so
I don't know why I keep on going over
Every detail like a Sistine Chapel crowd is counting on it.
You can bet I'm going to bed with
A wet paintbrush and empty canvas.
I just can't seem to get ----

A. Sometimes I feel like a character crafted for a play, extreme, with clean beginnings and endings so as to create little confusion: this is, this is not. Good. Bad. No indifferent. Sometimes melancholy, but only in the darkness between scenes; clean.

B. I can handle the heat all day long but can only take a few minutes of argument. My problem is, shade is the inevitability of night, but I could hold on for years to the right that makes them wrong.

C. Being right is not always right. Sometimes I've never been more wrong about anything.