After a short reprieve from school to visit my home in Santa Cruz, I am back in Berkeley. Back to campanile escapades, rolling down hills, blowing bubbles out my window, and for the rest of the summer, work. I am really excited to start working this summer and see all of the things I will discover. I am halfway through college and it hurts my heart to even think about that. A lot has changed and I am starting out the last half of my college career in a totally new vantage point. New jobs, new house, new roommates, new responsibilities but the same school and a lot of the same people I have come to know and love with all my heart. ...

So I have been in my new home for a few days now and to avoid the stress of moving and adjusting to a new place I have taken to long periods of time just staring out of the windows in my room. The windows of my room are my favorite thing about my new home. One over looks the entire bay, the Berkeley Marina down below, the Golden Gate Bridge in the foggy distance level with my ever searching eyes. The other looks onto the Berkeley campus over the red thatched roofs of the castle like houses between my bedroom and campus. The campanile sits just beyond grasp but fully in view. I can hear the campanile ring out ever hour, so that I never loose myself in time. ...

Sirens wail within the walls of these catacombs Reaching through the permeable loom And its outstretched strings weaving together A city of countless threads thinking they stand Independent from the unraveling yarn. But if we burn the end and watch the fire swallow the coil We will all burn together This masterpiece going up in flames Like the greatest bonfire of being That ever burst forth from the abyss of this abysmal world The powerful and strong will not reason The reckoning flame away That flicker of the snakes tongue can taste the air Filling with heat, the crackle and pop of thread Being split in twain But just alike, both will burn together.

Day Fourteen Silence weaves with delicate needle fingers the lips of eternity together to protect the world from its whispers. This loom of words, each string of sentences used to thread together the flesh of fear and tie up the loose ends of antiquity making modern the mask of mystery; giving it a grin more akin to a grimace fighting back the suture of sin that sealed the seventh scroll. The world will unravel in its own calamitous coil, we tried to piece it back together but the piercing hook that once bound now bends against the hardened flesh finding it impenetrable and unyielding even to the craftsmen that created them. But still we keep breaking our fingers trying to get a hold of your hearts to breath back life into your being and let the ruach make what once was stone, new flesh again.

The Old Name had died of a Fool’s trick that was perfect.

Dear Mom, You are my best friend, my travel buddy, my partner in crime, and the light of my life. I love you in more ways than words can express. I am sorry I can’t be there in person to tell you everything I have to say, but I can start here; Happy Mother’s Day. We have traveled the country together, long hours in the car that never got boring or tiresome because we always had something to talk about and even if we didn’t we both enjoyed the silence and the company of one another other. We have wandered down creek beds, climbed trees, fixed flat tires, run across so many different surfaces that I cannot even begin to think of all their names. And oh the places we have gone, the places you have showed me, enjoyed with me and the memories that I have of you, with you, that I will remember and cherish for the rest of my life. ...

Hit the floor like a shot to the mind set in deep-sea waters.

Enjoy the dark calm, There’s no surreal silence crying for a bullet to the head.

Impassioned beyond the bounds of creative change.