Comfortable & Home

"10 a. In a state of tranquil enjoyment and content; free from pain and trouble; at ease. (Usually, but not always, in reference to physical conditions or circumstances.)
b. Expressing or characterized by comfort; easy and tranquil; undisturbed; also colloq. of persons, suggestive of complacency, placidly self-satisfied."

"5. A place, region, or state to which one properly belongs, in which one's affections centre, or where one finds refuge, rest, or satisfaction."

-Oxford English Dictionary

Mistakes

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.

-Millay

Goodbye Southern California

Goodbye Southern California.
Gone for now feels like gone
forever.

Years Draining Through My Hands, Beads of Sand, Streaming

Paul Nicklen

Mildew

Sleep...
I'll come to
shape my
imagination
slowly.
Slowly pulled
over my
worry
&
faith,
in
you.

-Christopher Uller

November Misses My Weather

I recall him & I walking through the cozy sidewalks of Castro
at night. I couldn't tell it was dark though. Hot Cookie lights &
a purpled black "Q," pizza green bulbs & orange Walgreen lettering
illuminated my path. Distorted like vodka, glimpses drowned me in
a sea of bodies of men dressed in drag. Women in masks, Boba Fett,
& mummies with hard-ons littered my perception, but I made the
best of it. I'd no recollection of the effect of fragrance. With plastic
around my face I bruised the bottom of my eyeball; it's red now.
One spicy chicken sandwich, flat chested Russians posing for a photo,
& stockinged legs later, him & I made our way through the rapid
transit subway where the tired freaks slouched on concrete, while
their wigs unraveled down their chests. Exit 12th street & take the
800 route home. Telegraph shone brightly with fallen trees, and
leaves covering the ground. A cold return to our apartment, defrosted
windows, & there, upon the warmer sheets and blankets of my bed,
I crashed.

-Christopher Uller