Author: Ian

places, tucson

marquee 08.23.23

I see my angel on the sand

m. ward
poison cup
new kerrang
i get ideas
get to the table on time
primitive girl
too young to die
to go home
fuel for fire
chinese translation
vincent o’brien

my morning jacket
state of the art
holdin’ on to black metal
compound fracture
first light
bermuda highway
you wanna freak out
wordless chorus
touch me i’m going to scream pt 2
feel you
o is the one that is real
one big holiday
the bear
love love love

athens, places

blue skies

noticing the days hurrying by… when you're in love, my how they fly by.

there is a love that exists inside the soul
that language cannot capture
a love my words can’t take captive whole
the size and gravity of rapture

all of my efforts, bound to fail
no snare or knot can hold it
nor trap, nor pit, nor jail,
and no psalm has ever told it

but you, my love, uncover
these mysteries and more
and, stumbling, i discover
you are all that i adore

people, self

my sweet bird

Utterly captured, Ptiza. Utterly. Captured.

Ask yourself a question… anyone but me…

Anyone but you what?

Hummer lyrics. I don’t use my own words. You know this. Are you free? Do you feel love is real?

Well, I was gonna say, I thought freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.

Love Janis. God that’s a good book. I have literally hundreds of excerpts. How’s the reading? It’s a lecture, yeah?

Are you asking me or are those more song lyrics?

Literally the same song. Anyway. I hope it’s a good reading. I hope you like it. But it’s fine if you don’t. Throw it in the fire.

Well, I haven’t hacked into the song lyrics part of your brain yet to copy everything to mine.

I feel you working on it, though.

It’s a great reading, and the lecture format suits it.


Well, yeah.

In your beanbag, under your Christmas lights. Sage burning. Just sifting through the lyrics files, which take up more than half of the shelves.

That sounds awesome. What am I wearing?

Rainbow fluffy onesie. And I just assumed you were talking about Janis, even though Kris wrote it.

I was talking about Janis for sure even though he wrote it.

You have a space in my mind. And in my heart. You can hang out there anytime you want. Sorry about the mess. I threw a couple of parties and housekeeping is on strike.

I will forgive you for not inviting me to the parties as long as you don’t expect me to clean. Plus, I would never cross a picket line.

I’d have invited you. And you alone.

Even if I spent the whole evening, trying to convince you to give the housekeeping union what they want?

I imagine it to be pretty well organized, tbh, though some things are likely thrown willy nilly in trunks and closets. Likely needs a good deep cleaning. I’m open to negotiations with housekeeping. I have no idea where they went.

They went out to find their own rainbow, fluffy onesies.

I get that. It leaves a lot to the imagination. It’s a vibe.

How’s your imagination?

Vivid. Active.

It’s all that collagen I bet.

Oh. And captured. Utterly captured.

athens, places

re: p0litical r3porter

I'll give you one, too. Size 6. Size 9.

June 12, 2006 at 7:24 PM

not sure if this was replied to already, but:

that is hands-down the best hire-me letter i’ve ever read. i sincerely hope you get everything your heart desires. when you two get down here give me a ring and i’ll set up a nice little welcome.

athens, places


hey, ash. i'm pretty handy and know my way around a kitchen.

rumors of your death have apparently been greatly exaggerated, of which i am both relieved and dismayed. relieved because i can now remove my black veil, dismayed that, after all the tears i have shed, i may not be able to cry the next time you pass.

i read your piece on principle nelson of the adams school (excellent work! though you should have the web guy fix that fourth paragraph) and skimmed a few of the other fine offerings on the duck article i found heartwarming, the photo of the grim reapers: chilling. it never occurred to me that there might be more than one reaper. i may have trouble sleeping.

you have certainly landed on a soft patch of land. now if you can find a handyman or short-order-cook with whom you could pal around and share playful and romantic banter, you will be like a living gilmore girl (yes, i realize that i have incriminated myself and that you are sure to judge the television that i may or may not have watched).

things are well here as well, since you asked. i have recently acquired an obsession with the game of go; the storms of april have given way to the mosquitos of may; i am wearing flip-flops; i am eating well; i am writing a social bookmarks application here at the big nerd ranch… in fact, i had better get back to it.

from southern sidelines and saving up for large quantities of roe,

athens, places

letter from home

a love letter

hey there missy, so good to hear from you and hear you are doing well. things here are all the same. you’re not missing much, but we’re sure missing you.

biggest thing that happened lately was when we had to take sally the sow to the big city doctor and so decided to make it into a vacation as well. shoot… pineapples on pizza, people scooping poop off sidewalks, boys putting jewelry in their ears and girls putting it everywhere else… don’t get me wrong, them big buildings are impressive, but all the big buildings in the world won’t teach you nothing about birthing a pig.

what else? farm’s getting hot, gnats and noseeums are particularly bad this year. papa took the tractor down to creek, cleared the path and dug out the swimming hole. you remember that time you and me walked down there – we must’ve been four or five tops – and we were exploring and all of a sudden you started sinking down in that quicksand? haha. you were up to your thighs in it by the time i grabbed ahold of you. the sucking sound it made when we finally got you out and having to explain to mama how you lost your shoes… those were good times, missy.

uncle orbin – aunt alice’s orbin – he’s not doing so good, so say a little prayer for him. orbin was always real sweet to you. he was the one that bought you that little plastic horse that you loved so much – the one on the springs. what with marvette dying and so many of the folks around here getting sick, i’m starting to wonder if those chemicals we sprayed to keep the bugs off the peanuts and cotton weren’t so good after all.

but it’s real good to hear you are doing so good. you got out of here and made something for yourself. you always were the smart one.

well, it’s about time for me to start dinner. we’re having cornbread, black-eyed peas, mashed potatoes and fried chicken. i’ll save you some banana pudding.

write again soon,


athens, places

you’re no sunset

church bells ring. i hear you sing out.


But it’s ok. We all have our samskaras. These are mine. They release the same way—by feeling into them and allowing them to pass through. Like a beautiful sunset. That is my work. Letting go of the content of my experience and returning to my eternal self. Each of these were simply events that I witnessed. None of them changes who I am. My soul is untouched.


At some point, and I am not sure of the trigger, but I broke into tears. Oh, I remember. It was a thing that I had been waiting for—spending Christmas Eve and most of Christmas Day alone. I felt into it and allowed the tears to flow. I didn’t push anything down or away. I talked through it while it happened. Talked about the process of leaning into the feelings no matter how painful and how much you’d like to avoid them. Let them move through you like a beautiful sunset. There is no need to explain them or get to their source. Understanding them is great, but letting them go is the sole purpose.


Hey bud. I know that facing the same old fears can be scary. I want you to know that I am right here with you and we will not only face those fears, but allow them to pass through us like a beautiful sunset. One by one. Until all that is left is Love. I promise you that.


This isn’t like a sunset. I want to take a picture and put that picture in a locket that I carry next to my heart always and forever. And no other sunset will ever be as beautiful. I’ll miss many sunsets altogether, opting to stare instead at the small, imperfect replica inside of my locket.

athens, places

aren’t you glad?

so very glad. so very, very glad.

“Aren’t you glad,” she asked, and it was as simple as that. It was as easy as plugging a cord into a wall. As easy as tuning in a radio station. As lighting a match. As the birth of stars.

Instantaneously and delivered with unbridled delight: 1) “Holy what the fuck. Where’ve you been?” 2) “Do you know how much I fucking love you?” 3) “I want to talk to you FOREVER.” One. Two. Three.

All at once, I remembered. That life could be more. More beautiful. Brighter.

Without ceremony, I dropped a heavy stone I’d carried for twenty years.

athens, places

if only

each word spells i love you

since the abandonment and subsequent realization that nothing else on the internet would satisfy, i’ve thrown myself into life with renewed gusto. i have learned two languages, built a carriage house which i am currently renting out to hostelers, traveled to {array(tokyo, moscow, warsaw, belmopan (capital of belize), et al.)}, participated in four iron-man(tm) events (i placed in two!), adopted two chinese girls, been accepted to the mediaeval history doctorate program here in athens, become an ordained minister, and taught myself to make the penultimate southern breakfast. i have taken the lemons of your desertion and made three desserts and an entree: lemonade, lemon cookies,  lemon pound cake, lemon sponge pudding, and goat shoulder with braised lemons and preserved prunes.

i do hope that you are living on lobster and wine and enjoying the rose-colored glasses i sent (i am guessing that the thank you note was lost in post along with my lottery winnings)…