i’ve lived 4 lives in 2 years.

streaks of light tunnels racing

scenery like a film reel flashing

skipping scenes

you told me you didn’t love me

i drank whiskey, dark, forgotten words


and then there was laughter

skipping down an empty sidewalk,

and a midnight moon

can we stay here forever?

i don’t want to forget


does forever exist?







it’s getting so loud

and we’re moving so fast

(too fast?)

all of a sudden the deafening roar

The lights snap, bursting white sparks into black


Dark, vast… where?


The end of the tracks

cut the noise like a sliver

This is where 4 lives end

And one begins


I can still hear their voices.


Tail Lights

Central Park
It is strange when you can see the ends of things so clearly.
The dust, the fray, the edges of things –

where it all ends.

the walk away – one last time down the hall you knew so well

never to be walked that very same way again.

It was strange to see the turn of the corner.

To watch you disappear into the dark

knowing that was the day you walked out of my life forever.

This is the intersection.

Hang a left, I’ll make a right


And I won’t look back

but you know

you know

while you were here

it was good, it was good

it was so, so good

it was so good to see you smile.


You paint your dreams

Jackson Pollock Galaxy

The blankness of the year ahead prods at me with its deafening silence, and the pressure of knowing that it is my responsibility alone to fill those pages eats away at my subconscious. I feel the weight of possibility.

Jonathan Safran Foer once said, “Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.” I agree wholeheartedly. Sometimes the pressure of possibility can be far more intense than the even the stress and responsibilities associated with having a designated path – particularly when you are someone prone to the seductiveness of possibility, the “what-if,” and the meanderings of your unbridled imagination.

I know I spend much more time than I’d like to admit entertaining the idea of living out of a tiny RV, driving up the coast, playing music and making a living off of sunshine, laughter and the thrill of adventure.

I have also contemplated the idea of moving to Africa and building mud huts. Needless to say, the possibilities are endless, and the thought that you could take your life in any direction you choose is sometimes more mentally paralyzing and less liberating than one might think. Extreme liberation and possibility leaves the feeling of responsibility. You alone are responsible for what happens and for what doesn’t happen in your life. You cannot drift through life; you must drift with purpose.

“Every person, all the events of your life are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.”

– Richard Bach

In a way, it’s beautiful – the simultaneous pressure and liberation that comes with choice. Paint your canvas. Dabble. Take risks. Throw a few colors on the palate that you’ve never tried before. I’ve learned that the most memorable times in my life have been moments that have resulted from taking risks and getting out of my comfort zone. A bad date makes for a much funnier story than a great one.

The challenge this year: Throw a corkscrew into things. Say something off color. Be powerful. Get off of autopilot and wake up. Truly be alive – feeling, thinking and experiencing every minute. What are the pipe dreams and ambitions on your list? Dabble and dip your toes in them all. Hopefully, by the end of 2011, your canvas will an explosion of color.