“The secret to happiness is not doing what you like, but in liking what you do,” said J.M. Barrie. He wrote Peter Pan. Can we trust him? This journal has become less and less of me doing what I like and more and more the caged conscious writings of someone who feels she is being watched at all angles. When did I stop enjoying bearing my soul to the world? It happened a while back and it happened slowly. No one enjoys having their own words used against them. No one enjoys having to explain themselves and having irrefutable proof of emotional disloyalty or worse. Just who is reading and for what purpose? I used to not care. I used to come on here and tell all; the joys, the pains, the small details that I found interesting throughout my day. I don’t do so anymore. I find myself wanting to speak my mind and I stop myself when I realize I have got the responsibility of those I love on my shoulders. All I can do is speak in riddles and then some more riddles.

I am always questioning, always looking for truly enjoyable encounters. Depth of communication and warmth and emotional rapport are some of the things I live for and expect out of my relationships and sadly, lately, this part of my life has been lacking. Perhaps this is why I’ve spent more and more time losing myself in an imaginary world. I am escaping a reality I find lacking at the moment. I’ve always done this. It keeps me sane. Eventually I do find myself returning to the real, reforging connections that need repair; rebuilding bridges and restacking the cards.

I feel right now strangely displaced. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve actually slept? I have been staying up late, pushing myself; rebelling in my own way. Sleeplessness is kind of blissful in a way; a certain kind of high. Nothing seems real, I am just a bystander watching life pass me by; an outside stranger looking in. There is a kind of elation I almost constantly feel that is difficult to describe. It is absent today. My usual turned-on self is taking a break, sitting back and having a drink.

On Saturday night I went over M’s house to drink absinthe. Absinthe is a very strange sort of buzz. It’s tingly and languid without the dehydration. We tasted three types and I still side with Lucid but Kubler was admittedly delicious. The green fairy, good company and delicious food did much to put my mind at ease. Friday night was a bit of a challenge and tempers flew hot. By Saturday everything was settling into perspective. Sunday found me being real lazy and staying in bed. Making up can be fun.

I did manage to catch the Watchmen on Friday night and I was not disappointed. It was geek nirvana to see the comic come to life. As much as Alan Moore is a genius his artwork has never been my cup of tea. As an artist that style just doesn’t whet my apetite. The stories he tells, however, compensate for the lackluster artwork. Uncompromisingly viscerally violent and brimming with sexuality, Zack Snyder’s film captures and distills Moore’s message eloquently without feeling overwrought. I found that the musical element did much to bring the story to life especially early on in the montage sequences. I wanted to spend more time getting to know some of the character’s histories but in film time is a limiting factor. Ultimately the Watchmen is a story of madness and within the madness are these characters who are not immune to it. Each and every “hero” is depraved in his own way and I think the film does a great job at capturing this. I recommend it even if you haven’t read the comic.

This is a visual poem I wrote a while back. I wanted to share it as I think it captures the longing and angst felt by lovers who are separated. I did make this design into a t-shirt that can be purchased here. I am always experimenting with typography and designs based on type alone are fascinating to me. Read this in your own way, there are many ways to go about it. Enjoy.