i don’t think i can write. but i am doing it anyway. i don’t feel it is wise to write about my life right now. feeling mars in silence. a hush on personal topics. but i also don’t have the focus to write about a conceptual topic either. it’s the virgo moon, pulling me into the physical. the sun is shining through my window and drenching my skin. my amber ring glows with light beside the luminous turquoise. the heater is on because i keep suddenly getting freezing. my yoga mat is draped over my tree of life bed spread. the buildings loom like lonely gods, flat against the puget sound. my iphone sits there being a robot. i drink lemon water. i’m staring at my lovers painting. i am tired. i keep not sleeping enough. i keep traveling. yoga, work, grocery store, bar, cafe, restaurant. urban hiking. urban frustration. i used to get this way in new york, every day. the sight of pigeons nauseating me. the smell the hot cement rising into my brain. the sounds that never cease. i need to get to the park tomorrow. i need trees. i need negative ions. i need to hear the rustle of wind through leaves. i remember last year at this time i took off for port townsend alone. and i fell in love with it there. so many places feel like home. i am in love with this planet. new life grows. it is spring time. eating more eggs in reverie. how i like to dive, the way the trees once did when they fell into earth and their hair became roots. the way i crave immersion. this little box has contained me for almost three years now. mold, loud hipster smokers, squeaky hard wood floors, kitchen cabinets made for seven foot tall aliens, the smell of stale smoke in the hallway, the door slamming sound…paying too much money. labradorite around the neck. carnelian too. like frida wore. the way mars is getting me to think about loss. neptune dunking my head into a field of cobalt blue coral. venus rising in the mind like a purple sun. spraying all natural glass cleaner on a foggy surface. spilling liquids and wiping it up. the dream i had last night…attaching myself to a small airplane, on the outside, ready to fly with it.