i have realized a major reason why i have a problem writing sometimes. i am afraid to be honest with my pen, with my keystroke. it sounds like it should be a bit easier, at least i think it should. especially if it is in one of my notebooks which i keep close. they are really nice notebooks too. one is and Astral from London. the paper is exquisite, and it is bound in a leather case with a tie and my initials stamped on the outside. it reminds me of something indiana jones might have used. the other one is a moleskin. its about the size of a pocket bible, and people have actually mistaken it for that. it has a bookmark, and a band that snaps around the outside. the most coolest feature of it is that on the back cover, it has a pocket, like an expandable filefolder pocket that opens up. i usually keep my train ticket in there or if i am out and come by a phone number, it gets neatly tucked away in there. anyways back to the honesty. sometimes it feels like the honesty will not be grand enough, not moving, not "smart" enough. kind of ridiculous i know. its scary trying to be honest. you are revealing everything, your innermost thoughts, and looking for honesty back in return, though honestly you don't want to hear negative feedback, no matter how constructive. no one REALLy wants to be told their inner most thoughts are ok, or well no good, or what have you. there are times when i sit down to write and i start and i am like FUCK this is stupid, this sucks, its so simple, so uninteresting, who would like this. rather than just keep writing, which is what i should do, i just put down the pen, put away my typewriter, or logout. my most productive period was about 2 years ago, and i am talking sheer volume, i wrote close to a 100 poems or so in about a 2 month span. some suck, some really good. the other day while i was cleaning i opened one of the composition tablets that i had wrote in and was like wow, i love this poem, wow this one sucks, what was i thinking. or this could be good. for awhile i never believed in revising poetry, then i thought about it and realized how many people do revise poetry. Whitman did it for sure. many of his poems evolved through the many editions of leaves of grass. i guess i just figured when it comes out, its pristine, thats it. i think that train of thought has lost its argument with me though. cause i have gone back and altered some of my work and liked the changes better than the original piece. however still keeping the original so as to see the evolution. speaking of Whitman i was going to go to his house today, but kerri's b-day took precedent, plus i am waiting for that offer sheet from the city job trough fed ex. maybe i'll go tomorrow afternoon if it comes. nothing ever changes at the Whitman house, but i just get this really good feeling when you are there. the museum is interesting. has the press he used when he ran the eagle, a political paper in Brooklyn. and has the desk he taught from in i think it was woodbury, or maybe westbury, either one is on the north shore of his beloved paumanok. the inidian name for long island. i usually go once a year. its across from the shopping mall that bears his name. originally having i think 144 acres (prbly wrong on that figure) now has a plot a bit bigger than a a residence in the suburbs. anyways back to the honesty. i really should try it. i think it will take a lot of discipline. i mean especially when writing about my emotions. i was just reading a e.e.cummings love poem, and thinking how in the hell did he come up with that stuff. honesty, has to be. i have done it before, not nearly as well as someone like him, but it has happened. and what a feeling when it happenes, goose bumps, you are like thats the shit! yes! i'm fucking brilliant, and you want to share. its like you hit a home run, round the bases and stomp on home plate and jump into the arms of your teamates celebrating wildly. it really could be that close. well i think i might stroll down the street for a few beers, kinda feeling ancy, restless. probably cause i have done nothing nor seen anyone since i left kerri's around noon.

the timbers stand silent
protruding through the surface of
the great Hudson's waters, in defiance,
in remembrance,
as grave markers of an era
long since passed

time has passed,
yet it never fails to jar a
tear from a cloudless eye,
to stir a shudder from these still bones, this,
crisp repeat of the honour guard salute.
through the humid heats of summer,
the blistering colds of winter slumber,
the dewey splendor of springs bloom,
the regal colours of fall's spectacular,
the airmen, the soldier, the sailor and
the marine stand, starched, pressed crisp in
uniform attention, paying tribute, respect
to a fallen comrade of today, and to those
who have come before,
while a weeping bugle's brassy notes
take flight at grave's edge

Gave Kerri her present today. she loved it. first she was amazed at the beach glass i found. apparently its hard to find. my sister who lives down on the jersey shore, said that the easiest place to find it is in a gift shop. And I FOUND A BLUE PIECE. i guess that is like the 4 leaf clover of the beach glass universe. Kerri loved the poem too, asked if she could hang it in her room, i said that was the whole idea behind it. though i wish that i had a frame with a shelve on the bottom so i could have put the glass jar with the beach glass in it on the shelve. it would have looked great. well its pouring here and thundering and lightning. not such good beach weather. talk to you later

don't know where that title came from, oh well i will use it. the beach was just great today. got there around 11am and was there until 6. i guess i have to get in all the beach time possible right now, i start my new job july 25th. i will be training to be an IT recruiter for a firm in manhattan. have no real knowledge of ITish kind of work. i do know that these guys that i am going to be recruiting are very very smart, and make lots and lots of money at the big firms on wall street. so anyways back to the beach. the ocean has warmed considerably in the past few days, as i heard lake erie has too. while walking down the beach i ran into my ex girlfriend. my buddy and i walked by her, and after we got back to our spot (a few beaches down, as they go by streets i.e. Tennessee, Virginia, Maryland, Indiana.) well when i got back to our spot, on indiana, i txted her that i was coming over to say hi. walked over 3 beaches (about 3 small, very small blocks) and sat down. of course she looked great. that was at about 3:00, didn't leave until 6:00 after we had even walked back to her house and used the bathroom. we talked about out situation, which really sucks, and talked about other random topics that popped up inbetween us trying to figure out what we are to do about our situation. today is her birthday, shares it actually with haikuster. kinda funny i guess. happy birthday haikuster!!!! well i didint get her (kerri) a present, instead i wrote her a poem on really good paper, and framed it. it is actually the beach glass one. the other day while walking the beach i was thinking of her and picked up a piece of beach glass, something she likes for whatever reason, well it is kinda of pretty to look at, and running your fingers across it, it well i don't know it does something. so i had picked up about 5 or 6 really good pieces of beach glass and brought them home with me. after sitting them on my coffee table and staring at them for awhile, i got the idea for the poem, then i got the idea to frame it. it looks really good. black wood frame, an antique, white/ slightly yellowed heavy paper that has a fabric type consistency to it, and it is written in black ink, not like a ball point pen, but a marking pen of sorts. now i just have no idea what to do with the glass. she has a nice jar full on her nitestand, but i wanted to keep this separate. im headed off to Bed Bath & Beyond first thing to see if they have a small glass jar to put it in, i would think they do. she wants to go to breakfast, but i don't think its a great idea. i mean of course i do, but it isn't the right thing to do. of course i had plans for her birthday but those were put on hold at the time of the breakup. its funny i had a lot of things for us to do. there is this beautiful spot out east, if i remember right its just past west hampton. its on rt27 and you need an suv to get to the spot. its on the beach and you can camp there. you go to bed at nite after campfire and maybe a few drinks, and wake up to the crashing of the surf. its like you are on another planet almost because you look out and see absolutely nothing, well maybe a charter boat here or there, but it is simply fantastic. go to sag harbour, i had wanted to bring her home for the taste of buffalo, what better of a time to bring someone home to meet the folks, and experience buffalo when the queen city is at her best. i thought i was going to be really sad after having talked to her, i mean i am sad, but i am also hopeful. not that i am going to wait around for her to get her head on straight, but hopefully she wakes up and realizes that everything was good. i had gone to my friends baby's baptism in albany. two of my friends from the city rode up with me and they had just gotten engaged, then two of our friends still in buffalo, married with 3 kids came out. it was great, and a bit of a downer too, i could see kerri, sitting there with me in that backyard party in the future, and it felt right. over the past 4 years here, in LOng Island, she and i have been in the same places over and over again, and not met until just this past winter. i worked in garden city, and the nite of the blackout 2 or 3 summers ago we all went to this bar Leo's across the street. everyone was outside on the sidewalk cafe drinking. well its not a big bar, and garden city is compareable to amherst i would say. she was there, we were both there for hours. there are other instances, people who we both know. if it doesn't happen, it sucks, it doesn't happen, but if it does, wow, i would not be surprised. one nite my roomate and i were sitting smoking a cigar and having a soco on the rocks and he is very intune with people. great person, i don't have a brother but i would call him one, and he was like ya know eric thats the girl you are going to marry. my 78 year old great uncle said the same thing. i can see it. the best laid plans huh. we'll see.