daily ruzz

9 days remaining.

typepad is so nice it reminds me i have 9 days remaining. right there on pretty much every window. they are sweet. i almost feel like they will miss me.

i got me some 8 hours sleep last night. it's effin beautiful, i say. sleep is a wonderous moosh of purging and refilling. we should all think about doing it now and then. I'm going to go out on a limb an say we should try to do it everyday, whether we need to or not.

today, with the relief of solving a big problem i get to relax a bit. plan some. think some. fifa some and then meet with a customer.

less than 6 weeks from now it will be 2005.
do you know where your 2004 is?

bing

"and we homeless kings
absolute rulers
of sewn lips
and glued eyelids
tend our columns of fallow meaning
reliable as old-birth-hips."
excerpt from the bringing - © 01/09/2004 i.m. ruzz

and just like that, we shift into a new period.

i don't know if you go through periods in your life. i do. loosely defined, bound by a particular thread of thought, energy or passion the days become a period.

some would argue i was in my fallow period before this. but, here in farm country we know you have to actually plow that land before you let it sit. so i wouldn't characterize this last period that way. In fact, i don't know how i would categorize it. normally, my periods are defined by my poetry, or writing. and as the content shifts to match my life i can tell by what i'm writing about.

this time, it's been all photography, and no pattern is clear. so whatever. fuck it.

it's not important what you call a period, or how you identify them. it's what you do in them that counts. and if my last period was characterized by one theme, it was shock. awe. and disbelief.

I've recently had a really genuine wake up call. and for that i thank a couple of assholes who think they are better than me. nothing fires my engine like people who think they are better than me. well, people who think they are smarter probably fires it more--but no one would make that mistake with these two yahoos.

i feel like crackin skulls and laying waste. i've apologized, acquiesced, deferred, and internalized enough for a life-time. i'm done with that.

i'm tired of being sorry or wrong all the effin time.

sometimes, you gotta break a few eggs to make french toast.

thank you canada post

in the mail today, i got treats from afar. the naughty nurse aka the reluctant one aka the mischievous one aka jo, made me a birthday card by hand.

take note ladies on how to impress the ruzz.

full images inside, you can, like i need to say this, click on them for larger images

ps. when is that just going to be standard and i dont need to tell dunskies anymore?

and, in case you thought it was too mushy and sweet...

an excerpt from the note attached: