Speaking of Penguins...

I recently stumbled across this poignant example of elegant prose from my early days...

So profound, it almost brings one to tears.

I could totally write some classic Owl City songs.

[ca. 1996-98]

When it rains forever...

... but you must create sunlight, like tossing things into a bubbling pot, as outside it drizzles or pours ... tossing in things like "sunshine" and "fairy dust" and "pumpkin pie spice" and "yellow flowers" and "warm fluffy happy-ending movies", and stir it well, then let it simmer a bit, until it's just a nice warm glow... and then just dip your hands into it, and lift out a glowing handful, and form it into a fluffy round shape, and hang it near the ceiling, where it will shine with a brilliant inward glow, and radiate a warm, cozy, sun-like light, yielding a very gentle, ear-soothing music which warms and illuminates the heart ...


[a "stream of consciousness" excerpt from a letter to my friend oliver, dated 11.10.2005]

he should smile more often

When he smiles, it lights a candle in her heart. But when he smiles at her, every inner surface of her soul ignites in sun-glow. She is helpless. Nothing can be done to cure her, except for him to take her in his arms and confess his undying love for her. And even then, it would be no cure, but a pacification of the stormy sea within her, forever bound to the bedrock of his soul, and he must never let her go.

- iva m