port orford

sometimes the road actually leads to the future. oregon coastline. port orford,OR.

surfbird

i'm migrating south again. heading for the warm water. my soul is wet and cold to the bone. not a citizen anymore. walked out on the job. back to vagabond lifestyle.

life north of fife

i'm a citizen again. i work in a restaurant where a ton of other weirdo's work. it called a high volume fine dining restaurant. we serve seafood.. i bus tables. and i do it for a living. i'm a citizen again. can't wait to go camping on the coast. i'm a citizen again. yay dream, yay!!

moments

there's something to said about moments of rock bottom.. perhaps maybe even more than moments of perfection. when we dabble in moments of perfection and we're not truly aware.. that perfection usually slips away like lightening, yet oh how the rock bottom moments last like molasses if we are unaware. and somewhere in between these two extremes there are moments of mediocrity. but no matter what… there's always a glimpse of what the moment could be. whether perfection or rock bottom, maybe the rise or the fall, but at any given time… at every given time… moments do exist … and it's up to us to make whatever our little hearts and souls desire out of each lasting moment. and at the moment we're aware of this simple act.. we will find ourselves smiling. and that's when it seems to be the season of progression, the season of acceptance and the season of evolution.

snapshot LIFE!!

citycitycity . streets. streets. streets. mountains.mountains.mountains. water water water . picture . picture . picture . air air air : END?

driftwood dreams for a sold out soul

framed like paintings on old dead canvas, my dreams are matted for the taking.

blue gray. blue green. rainbow dreams.

this season is fresh like the mist of the ocean. soft. forgiving. refreshing. the city is torn between slumber and the fruitful taste of the vine. dreamers lay wide eyed staring at clouds with their hearts grasping for answers. the squares sit cross legged with headphones playing banter of a graveside manner. yet, oh how the birds have been dancing. it's a season for the lovers. the half dead and dying. a season for the brave and the ones not only thinking of doing, but the ones who do it without thought. it's a new found glory for the backstreets of all that is everything. this my friends is the season of the dreamer.

the woods

my soul breathes in the woods. near the coastline. the western shore.

snow in the forecast. magic in the sky.

it's january. i made it through the holidays. i've been 30 for over a month. i feel alive. i really feel alive. but i only feel alive when i slow it all down and look at it… reflect on it later and make a decision on what's next. it's kinda working. guess i'm just with being aware of the wind. i'm really happy with wind.