Cameras

That rich feeling of nostalgia,

Not unlike a cup of coffee.

Heavily scented and steaming.

The color of wood paneling.

I love hearing of old things.

Seeing old things.

Maps and records and cameras.

Books.

I've found two new 'reference' books

For poetry.

Unlikely finds and probably seemingly unrelated.

"The Sea" and "The Birds" from the LIFE magazine science series.

Published: 1969.

They're perfect books of nautical and ornithological knowledge.

Vocabulary and photos, diagrams.

Beautiful pieces of unlikely art.

And I nabbed another Hemingway book as well, of course.

Today was oddly warm

And homey,

Despite the horrible weather.

It'd been forever since I'd been on a car ride of any true length and

The scenery was so grey and perfect.

So wintry.

I'm sick of winter,

But it's holding on tight.

Ohio weather is fickle.

And I've come to realize

The immense fields of difference

In places.

Where I've been: Small and rural and countryside-ish.

Where I want to be: Big and urban and bright.

I'm not afraid oft he differences right now.

Usually, I am scared stiff.

But I'm in love with contrast right now.

It's beautiful.

And to top it all off.

My stop-motion animation

Is going better than expected.

I'm pleased.

To move away from what feels like a very rural strand of monologuing.

I woke up this morning.

And found myself mumbling

"I need him."

It was startling.

I had dreamt of him,

And was now sleep-talking about him.

A whole new level of strange and awkward.

And while I don't need him, per se,

My subconscious seems to think so.

Now off to read in my cocoon-like nest of bedding,

Poetry with meter,

And ponder how on earth I shall ever write anything similar.