worse things happen at sea.
worse things have happened to me.

I'll be turning sometime soon. I took the date off of a public place because I figured that the only way most people know when I turn is because of an electronic notification that passes for a well-kept relationship.

Jacob Cummings and I woke up yesterday and decided to go to Seattle. It was one of the best decisions we have and could have made. We listened to the most recent edition of this American life. I won't go into detail, but what I'll say is that, we fulfilled the prophecy.

While not wholeheartedly agreeing with the theory explained, we inevitably became a part of it, and ignore it to our own benefit.

phew. let me tell you.





keep riding.
keep wishing that you could make that split-second decision.

I couldn't be more vague, yet when any of you call, I'll most likely drop what I'm doing to afford the 15 minutes.

So, we're on our 5th day of the bike trip.
Luke, Kat and Jason left us (Brandon, Victoria, and myself) to
head inland towards Klamath falls. We're averaging 50 or 60 miles per day and have seen incredible views along the best coast.
We've met a few friends along the road, Michael
from Washington, and sunny and Nathan from Phoenix. PSAT was by far the worst of
our days, our knees and legs are pretty sore, and the climbs aren't
getting any easier. We stayed just south of the California border last
night, in "trees of mystery," and today we clocked in just under 80
miles, with a couple campsite confusions and my first flat tire of the ride. Our first ( rcommended by another rider) campsite choice was incredibly dreary and slightly frightening. We were acosted by three 7. Year olds who were wielding knives, claiming we had stolen their fort. We found an rv park in eureka, ca, and are very happy
forthe night.

That's all for
now, pictures at flickr, username weallwait.

Much love, cole

Damn it.

Just once I'd like to be uninspired by something you do.
Just once I'd like to want to lack the drive that you seem to have towards something.
Albeit unattainable, I'd like to live a different life.
Is it unachievable, though? I need to spend on experience, and realize that the material possessions I've come to love so much only exist for a short while. I can't keep coming to conclusions that I think are ultimate without trying something completely different.
I don't care what I think resonates, because I know there is more that booms. There is more that will ruin me than I currently subject myself to. I want to be ruined in a completely different way than I've considered possible before. Now that I've got no class that comes in ones twos threes.

You fucking confront it finally, after years of doing exactly what you want, you do some things you never thought you would. and it supports you. It moves you, and it takes you flawlessly to that volta. It takes you, not matter how the time. It takes you because you forced yourself. I've been living far too naturally, when naturally is to do things on a whim, not to let them come to you. whims should be uncomfortable.

I love you, man, and I've always respected what you do. For some reason, that even means your insecurities, that even means your lack of self-confidence. That even means my lack of self-confidence. That even means my stubbornness. That even means me trying to fit in. That even means you trying to fit in. That even means that both our paths cross inevitably because of how diametrically opposed we once were.

I knew this would come. I've been processing my battle. I've been existentially avoiding that which I know must happen.

to MG.

I seem to work on all the wrong days.
I work when I should be relaxing, and when I need work most to motivate me, it's not around.


it's hard to be the better man when you forget you're trying.



forget it, you'll never be able to crunch yourself into the box of success.
that magical box that apparently gives people knowledge
and the right to hold things over you.
I'm not noticing those things anymore.

I'm all for waking up early now
sleeping in is for the person I want to be.
duality?

well, this isn't a "long time coming" or anything, but:

I'm going on a bike tour.
I'll be riding down the west coast of the United States, and more specifically, Oregon and california.
It will be approximately 1200 miles, and there will be people joining me for various legs of the journey.

Things will be updated here, should you care to 'follow.'

For the first leg:
Luke Bonham
Kat Sandor
Victoria Loehlein
Brandon Ensz

second leg:
Victoria
Brandon

third leg:
Chris Bondus


In other news:

for the past couple days I've been concerned with the ways that I've been spending my time.
I have this stigma that makes me want to be constantly achieving something. Today I spent quite a bit of time doing nothing. And the same goes for yesterday. (They told me to never start a sentence with 'and'.) I tried to take a freewheel from a vintage phil wood 48h hub, and the rusted cleats out of a pair of Sidi Bullets. I ate four bowls of cereal yesterday, and I can't even remember what I REALLY did.

I'm moving soon, and I know things will go well, I just hope I don't turn out lonelier than I already am. Especially when our count goes down to three.

Thanks to all those who watch Dawson's creek with me, tear down bunk beds at 1 in the morning, eat ice cream, make quesadillas with very hot peppers, go on photo adventures and bike rides, and who help me with the things that I am struggling with.



i want to write the perfect song
and play it just for you
while you are tangled up in sleep.
i need you more than ill ever know
until i stop breathing
my lungs will take you for granted.

lately:

3.30.10

Incredibly destined
was the way I felt. I'm still years younger than
rational thought, but i'm past the mark of
what I've here labeled as 'childish.'
I've been pining for a certain thing

for a certain word I don't yet know
for the handle to the plug of the tub
you've been soaking in all this time

nobody's destined for powders and plasticities
caustic facial asininewe weren't born to breathe.
I can't use names. Not for fear of thir letters
in sequence absorbed by greedy eyes, but
because I don't want to blame YOU just yet.



OLD:
2.26
well, i might mention, simply as your eyes look up at clouds
that pertinence is lost amongst my routined shroud.
now you agree, we both pay dues to gold.
not physical, a piece that shines when old.

I'm already

Tired. This body has already had enough. I can't be stuck in between without thinking of what might happen had I made a couple different decisions. I can't help but think how certain conversations epically divide beings made for mutual affection. Surrender, if you don't you'll never think to know control.

Because, in the end, as the song goes, control is something out of my control. And that's the only thing I can identify with. That's what I'm singing at seven something in the morning, tired, useless, as I just checked my marks in school. Control is something out of my control. A cop-out?

I now type in paragraph form.
laziness?
I hope not.
I hope my spaces affect the way you sleep at night.
Because that's the only reason I keep my thumb next to the space bar. So that in some world that I imagine, you'll notice them and count them on a separate page.

young man, you are a stranger to me.

Couldn't ever compete.
Not that I'd want to.
It'd be out of my element.



Sometimes these banks are muddy.

Sometimes I listen to:
Pompeii
Songs: Ohia
Pedro the Lion

and my friends.

A study:

I thought I had already written you, you sly little entry that slipped through the judgment of the button marked "publish."

-

We spoke of the sometimes unrecognized beauty in purposeful omission, and deliberately crafted syntax. There's beauty there, too, you know, even though I rarely exercise it as such. I want to try to write inconspicuously, directly; yet with poise and fluidity.


I hardly do anything alone, and today was no exception. I woke up and did something I almost never do. I played basketball. I'm not overly athletic, but I played games of 3 on 3 and 4 on 4 with people I didn't know. I then went swimming in a pool on the third story of a brand new building. I rode in a car to get groceries I desperately needed. Before I went in the store, I stopped and knelt to take pictures of legs and wheels of carts.

Before that, I asked "If you were me, what would you pick up at the grocery store?" I needed some inspiration. The only thing I got that I would not normally get is orange juice. You're right, your tastes are pretty simple.

I then proceeded to be unfocused on my homework, take a necessary nap, and listen to a few funky jams from "Antibilas Afrobeat Orchestra."

I'm going to try and attend a free show in about an hour.

I work tonight until around 4 a.m. with one of my favorite people, Tony Padgett. We have lots of fun working together.


This was a study in diction, in calculation, and in dedication.

I was thinking, and...

I guess after all these years, I'm still pretty proud to be straight edge.

Dangers.

You sang to me that "you are free," the "music is boring you to death." But for me, you see, it's just the goddamn kids. Us boring, boring, boring, boring, spoiled-rotten kids. Take. Take, take, take. Don't give back shit. All spoils. All gains. Just dicks. No brains. More pills. Less pain. Just amber waves of grain. We stuff our mouths until we burst. This is consumerism at its very worst.
Our hands stuffed so deep into the cookie jar. And no, we will not share. We all have too much. We haven't one desire. Us boring, boring self-righteous kids. Throw us to the fire. New sneakers, smaller cell phones, faster cars with larger rims. We filthy, stinking, scholarship punks. We watch them struggle for what we're
just given. I have nothing to complain about, but I know I'll still complain. I'm so bored with us have-everything kids. Put a razor to our veins.


Dangers, man. Dangers. So witty, so refined.




(an old one.)
Moving on.





Here's to looking misty in the January morning lack of sun.
Here's a thousand different reasons why tomorrow won't be any fun.
Because the area of quality's so goddamned fucking small.
A life composed of seeming meaningless,
dress undress, caress, redress.

Two trains have gone behind me.
Haven't turned around for one.
It's only been ten minutes,
window's blocking out the lack of sun.

It's not unordinary, It's 8:51 p.m.
Privately staring, sneaking glances at the man
who sits across the room from my eyes
Maybe I think you left me.

finish block upon block of building
to have your little brother push them all to ground
Ages, ages ages lost
Me not thinking now is dangerous.








(don't read into this too much.)

and now:
ransport, motorways and tramlines
Starting and then stopping
Taking off and landing
The emptiest of feelings
Disappointed people clinging on to bottles
And when it comes it's so so disappointing.

And today is:

today.



I was asleep during takeoff.

Let's pretend today is

yesterday


For the sake of continuation.

Until I get some stuff processed, the updates might be with the hipstamatic.

Let's pretend today is

I guess I've technically posted

I'm sorry, Kyle, I'm going to do this too.
For my own benefit as well.



These Lines aren't even, and the coffee was expensive. I only got a single shot and I won't even tell you the price. Chris and Kyle are two amazing brothers of mine. The time flew by us very quickly. As did my chair fall through the rotted boards.

Sorry for the absent-mindedness.

whoa.

This is what most of last night was comprised of. And it was pretty awesome.

good morning.

The Nothing That Kills:

I called and called and called.
I was so happy to hear something other than a record.

It turned into something unexpected. Welcomed, understandable, obviously neglected.


(not mine)
Maybe I fell too fast
Maybe I pushed you away


(mine)
There's no hour I would not wake up at.
There's no amount I would not pay.
There's no ticket too expensive
No phone call too late
There's no alarm I would not set
No gas tank too empty.
No night too late.

You might be able to guess where I'm going with this.

Remember that I was not even an adult yet. Remember that I knew nothing. Remember that now I think I've learned. Remember, please remember, that it's the nothing that kills.

Intensity is something that can mean different things. It means everything right now.
When I watch myself play drums inside my head. It's to that song, and it's me drumming with intensity. I'm almost crying because I'm all of sad, all of joyful, and all of angry. For all different reasons.

(The pictures are unrelated)

How can I make this entry be about something other than the coming year, decade, lifetime?
There's no way. I'm always talking about the future.

I was watching a video of Anis Mojgani do a piece called "Here am I." I can't help but repeat the last three, powerful phrases in my mind. His voice shakes and stands up, his body moves and places itself with every emphasis.

Already am, Always was, And I still have time to be.

welcome.
welcome. welcome.