Vaniah Toloa

the hula-hoopers at fourth street fair (or whatever that was last night) always fire me up. it's contagious. i've been wanted to get them to join our busk and dress up like zombies with us and maybe do some juggling. ah fourth street.. the land that once frightened a joe scott. nights at fourth street are like a beam of light and i always wake up in the back of my car late in the early morning having no clue of how i ended up there. handstands help. i am really not sure why i woke up with so much energy but i'm thankful for it. i think its time to get in good shape, it will be helpful in turkey when i start to lose my mind. something interesting was said to me last night that caught my intrigue. it actually was on belle isle quite early in the afternoon when this woman told me i have hopeful and experienced eyes that have seen many things. i always figured this was the smile lines from being punished by the equatorial sun for so long. this comment made me feel at ease somehow. i thought damn, i have seen some things. however as it was once said i've got a lot to teach but even more to learn.

as sunny days are like portals into other sunny days i was transported back to being with jessika in the park in california about a week ago i suppose. i realized that day that a poor quality of myself is that i talk too much. i thought about her back in the sun that beautiful day and how i could say much more with my hands than with words. maybe my eyes are like this. i wonder when it was in the history of our species that we developed the need to have so many words and i marvel in the irony that the more you say the less you really have to say. too often i just feel the need to explain myself so people dont think i'm crazy. my mind is like a bowl of noodles and people give me concerning looks sometimes.

'that day in the sun' - words like this make me lean back in a chair and make that blank look with a smile. i wonder sometimes if that's how people feel when they are off at sea or in prison or fighting in a war. suddenly that day in the sun becomes a safe place they can be teleported to and it feels as if they are still there. shirtless, with green cargo sorts, no shoes, an obnoxious amount of bracelets, hair down to my shoulders, face splashed with water, dirty toes, pen in hand i sit in the sun that gathers out back. i take a break from drawing aliens and flowers that look like aliens to write this and every time it is like going back to 'that day in the sun'. patiently and humbly i lay back and let the grass make prints on my back. sleep lines mean you are still dreaming. i miss you.