teleportation:

its a bitch. i feel like im doing it all the time now. teleportation, that is. time travel. you know like where did this day just go? or the week for that matter...its friday already? its fucking june? wait....2009? im 25? 25! you've got to be joking right. i mean, didn't i just get to the island. i mean wasn't i just living in caitlin and john's apartment? wasn't i just in college, or highschool for that matter? i mean, i'm pretty sure it was just yesterday that i was building forts in the forest behind my parent's house outside of baltimore. where does it all go?

my whole life, i've been flying lightning speed from morning to night, from saturday to saturday again, from april to may to june, from spring to summer to fall and winter and shit, spring again. another year and every year going faster and flying away from me and i just want to grab onto all of them and keep them forever. every morning. every night. every saturday. and every winter. and every summer day.

it hard though. i mean there's just so much. i know the only way to really do it, to really stop teleporting, is just to let go of it all and look around, drink it all up. but there's so much to drink. caitlin, john, carrie, ethan, tim, i just read all of your blogs for the first time in awhile. and its just so much. each of you, out there, fucking killing it, and i want to drink it all in with all of you at once. and i want to drink it all in here, on the island, too. fuck, sometimes its like im drowning. but in the most beautiful, bursting open full of love way. i guess it could be worse.

i've been trying to teleport less around here. the island, i think, has some sort of time-slowing device hidden deep with in the center of it's rocky core (something akin to the time bubble in LOST i think) which has been quite helpful in slowing my weeks and my days and my hours down just a bit. i've been closing my eyes more. smelling more things. tomato plants. strawberries. sunscreen and sweat and damp chicken feathers. i've been finding that the unplanned times are almost always better than the planned ones: stopping in the middles of an old homestead pasture and sprawling in the grass; posting up on the porch to drink tea and listen to the rain; last-minute skinny dipping in the pond before night fall; and when the question arises always saying yes to getting ice cream, and more ice cream, and more ice cream.

it's almost the solstice and the days here, close to the top of the world, are rediculously long. it has rained zero times in my near memory and the afternoons are hot and hard to make it through without a swim. the food is plentiful. we have more lettuce than we know what to do with. the fields are bursting with kale and chard and peas and broccoli and strawberries. strawberries! and i'm trying to drink it all up.

i wish you all were here.

come visit whenever you wish.

perhaps you could even teleport.