makes you want to do it all over again an hour later, like (chinese food)

in order to join the orchestra, you must first learn to take the train.
in order to take the train, you must first learn how to walk.
in order to walk, you must first learn how to talk
- to your neighbor, and your friend, and your family.

these critical conversations that are - crucially - about nonsense,
these collections of uninhibited moments, full of food and rhythm.
the spaces of silence and the creature comforts of chatter,
the mixture of all modes and the reminder that it doesn't really matter.

in order to feel nostalgic for a place you've been time and time again,
you must first learn how to be nostalgic for a place you've only been once.
in order to feel nostalgic for a place you've only been once,
you must first learn how to be nostalgic for a place you've never been.

and this yearning will carry you through all walks of life
- the trains, the cars, the buses, the planes, all plotted by ethereal fare.
the boats of each war and the vehicles most alien; the spontaneous trips.
this yearning will propel you even when you feel you've nowhere to go.

we toil tirelessly, constructing a boundary between the human self and the worldly routine.
we scaffold ourselves about ivy and iron, which percolates through each attentive soul.
who we are and what we do. we fold together and through and we become inextricable.
this boundary, as osmosis, organic and highly permeable. we travel from here to there, and back again.

we are not ourselves, of course, when we travel to another country.
- another city, another state, another street; by automaton or on feet.
we are different selves, from work to play. we contain so much gravity.
when we play at work, it surprises us. it comforts us. we summon that gravity, and are pulled.

sometimes we love when we are comfortable. we love that simple sound.
sometimes we love as a passageway out of fear - when we are scared.
sometimes it seems to be an ancillary, unnecessary, incongruent act.
sometimes love scares us, indeed. but almost always, love is something we need.

would that we could exist forever in that wonderful transpiration
- that delicious sector of the self where we just want to do it again, and again
- as if we find life in itself just so truly enjoyable
- as if we are creatures of euphoria in habit

what a euphoric habit. to see each other, now and again
- and again and again, we make a routine and world out of people
i am what i do. without consistency, we cannot consist.
- and i am bound up by those who also assert themselves, who are also true.

but this adoration, at points, only exists to be academic.
to be abstract, systemic. it's aspirational. we merely wish it to be true.
aspiration: perhaps a forward-looking nostalgia. a yen to be there, beyond.
oh, i wish it were tomorrow. i cannot wait.