I often forget, moving so fast and with so much distraction, how lucky I am. But I am lucky, very lucky - and as lonely as I will always be, as much trapped in this head and heart which are so disparate from the workings from any other flesh and blood machine I've met, yet, I have built some cool connected heart things, and they last, somehow.

fly to SP with some poems in hand and read them to me so you can see me smile when i hear them, i don't even care if they're about dead cats and whales drowning in oil, i'll smile. i said it once, but here it is again, i can't wait to see you. and yes, with everyone i've seen lost this year, it's the births that keep me. a baby was born in haiti, i reached inside of the mother while she was in labor to measure her cervix, i was so nervous i pulled my hand back before i could. what miracles. the births are like paperweights for the insane shamble of living.

Here I am again with a huge mess of thoughts about life and death, loneliness and togetherness, worth and worthlessness, small joys and big joys, right before work. I can't even scratch the surface.

The other night F says to me, "Think about it, think about all the time we have as humans, there's so much time. We could do anything! Anything we wanted!" I feel the opposite. There are never enough words, and there is never enough time.