There was a girl in my life last year. As of late, I can't stop thinking about her. This space in my life has opened up and feels perfectly molded for her. I often tell my friends that she was mentally a year ahead of me. As the days pass, I feel her presence getting closer and closer. She lives in Los Angeles. So do I. Our love affair was short-lived but important to me. I miss her. That is not what this is about though. It's about this scene that plays in my head. Part of me cringes when I see it in my mind's eye. On her first trip to visit me in Seattle, we went to Elliot Bay Books. It felt like we were skipping down the aisle. I felt so close to her that week. It felt like we were sharing the same body when I looked at her. My favorite image of her appeared that week. Hair soaking wet, in bed naked with a book. Reading to me. 

We showed each other our favorite books on the shelves. We decided to buy each other a book. While she was looking for the perfect book. I asked her to pick one that would make me feel close to her. I only wanted to feel close to her. I wanted to be close enough that it felt like I was inside her mind's eye. I wanted to know her. I still do. There's a huge part of me that feels corny for saying that. I don't know If I’d ever say that again. At least to someone else. Through the time I got to spend with her. I did feel close to her. That book sits in my house. I’ve never finished reading it. I don't know why. I like it. I guess I’m scared that at the end of it, I might forget about that day in the bookstore. The end of that book might change things. Art changes everything.

Art is important to me. That's easy to say. It's the “right” thing to say. You get no gold star for that. Anything can be art. That is true but seems like a silly phrase to me. That means Love can be art, right? When I look back on that 6 months there's so much love in it. Her love felt like art. While I was in it it was as confusing as trying to understand expressionism. I’ve never really had the time to study art history. Now that I’m out of it I can see it for what it is. “I was born addicted to fantasy”. I’ve never heard a line that felt like my life more. Mike Mills's debut film Thumbsucker leaves the view with much to ponder. That line is all I seem to be able to think about since I’ve watched it. 

Fantasy is pretend and Art is real. So much fantasy results in art. The love she had for me was art. The love I had for her was Fantasy. I wanted it to be art but I was too scared to live. Art is not for the dead it is too full of breath. One day I woke up and realized I wanted the love I have for her to be Art. I fear. I know that it's too late for that. What I’m learning is fantasy is good at the beginning of something. The key is when the fantasy opens itself up to be art you have to let it. The fun of fantasy is the desire for it to be actualized. In my life, I’ve struggled with getting outside of the fantasy. She could see that because she is something else. This bigger thing. She is bigger than me. Rainer Maria Rilke said, “For here there is no place that does not see you. You must change your life.”. She never said this to me. She knew though. She just took her art and continued to be big. It's been about 18 months since we spoke. Now I know what it's like to be seen. 

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• Thumbsucker directed by Mike Mills: I watched for the first time and really like it. Will watch again
• Frank by Amy Winehouse: This album is making me different. I had never listened before and I love it. 
• Archaic Torso of Apollo by Rainer Maria Rilke: I liked to this about a month ago but want to bump it again. I love this poem. 

P.S.: For those who care For When The Cows Come Home #4 is done and will ship today if not tomorrow!!!

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