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December 29, 2011

Once, I was asked to go ahead and impress someone.

It was one of those make-or-break moments,

split second things that could determine days weeks, maybe even lifetimes.

I went through through a mental list of things I could do or say to impress while simultaneously

turning the word around and around in my head.

To buy time I said, smiling : “would you like me to stand on my head?”

Impress me, give me a reason to come back, she prodded, undeterred.

I sighed.

Impress, put your best foot forward.

Gain someone’s respect.

Put effort.

Gotta climb the tree to get the fruit



It was a kind of currency in this universe.

Something in exchange for something.


So the word Impress

took on the sheen of gold, this warm luster.

In effect it meant, I have value. Purchase me. I don’t come free.

It made sense.


That  moment passed. I think.


I didn’t want to impress. It just is or it isn’t.

I don’t want to impress. Not for a few hours worth of trophies.

And conversely I don’t want to be impressed.

Not that effort is meaningless, to me.

Effort is constancy. And Time is the reservoir it  flows from.


Combined, do we make an island together

in perpetual summer?

Looking up from the bed does this pane of sky become an ocean, planes surging against light?

Can I sip the words  out of your mouth and  get drunk?

Can I swim effortlessly like fish

with my  amnesiac fins and gills

with you? Can you?


I don’t want to be a trader.




Some recent sketches:


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