i'm obsessed with daniel merriam

i'm obsessed with daniel merriam because he illustrates my dreams. his 
paintbrush has outlined the paragraphs of my world, my book, my story, 
every sentence, every adjective, there, in full-colour on his canvas, in 
the bubbles i stole to use for my various collages, for the house, the 
home, the ones where i stick and place and fold up my various backpacking 
dreams, they were his, on paper, before they were ever mind, with his 
right brain protracting where charlotte's began, i can only imagine he 
must know about the Men too. yes, i am sure he has seen the second star 
and i want for him to illustrate my words, my visions, i want him to make 
the colour my hands cannot, my fingers fumble through, for the visually 
impaired, for the ones who know, who understand that a book is no good if 
it doesn't have any pictures...he has taken my fragmented sentences and 
bled them through a prism, making beautiful watercolours of those images i 
can scarcely paint with words...though strangers in such a huge world, 
with its walls and its cement packaging, are difficult to find. and how 
will they ever know you need their vision as a footstool for your own? so 
i break up the twine and i leave breadcrumbs and perhaps he will find my 
fragmented poetry, perhaps he will learn my lute-songs and know what 
character he was meant to play in that book, that infamous book pouring 
pages across me...

and the sandman bards, they are recruiting. i saw it today, in my 
cybertext hyperspace, where writers need apply, where manuscripts might be 
sent, where once and for all i could plant a root and see what might 
happen. with enough water, anything's possible, even flood, even arks, 
even animals two-by-two. i don't think i have heaven in my pocket, but i 
think i might be keeping it in my satchel full of appleseeds. you never 
know what will happen until you try, and i am game, i know that i will, 
that i want, so crossing my fingers over a hundred times i shuffle through 
my incongruent hemispheres, halfing the worlds over and tracing the 
outlines of faded photographs, half hoping something will happen, and 
knowing it is only a matter of time...so yes. there are words on my paper, 
and they dance in merriment. draco growls at me, with his copper tinged 
eyes, and again i open my book, my book without a name, without a soul 
just yet, but it is all so true...every paragraph, every ellipse. never 
have i written anything more true than that, even if all of it didn't 
exactly happen, even if much of it was imbelsished, it was the truth. pure 
and vigorous, raw, bleeding onto the pages. this is how i felt, this is 
what the world looks like to me sometimes, through these kaliedoscope 
binoculars i stole from charlotte, with my bare feet in the summer, with 
all of my candysticks and my strawberry shortcake rolls...this is what 
forever tastes like. and i know where the spiral-bound sphinxes stay.

and so the puck called me today, and his voice i knew instantly, that 
imistakable voice, and we talked for a long while about life and love and 
the things which bleed and laughter, and i loved his silliness and loved 
him then, the pure kind of innocent love i hold in my heart for all of 
them, the lost girls, the 148 angels, the carnival, the asphalt universe, 
my jupiter aliens, all of them, it was the same. as if the universe waited 
until the exact moment when it knew it wouldn't matter to me anymore that 
the puck might be breaking up with the blond chick, that it didn't matter 
that he might be coming to my party or might not, that i missed him and 
wished to see him, but i no longer longed for him. longing...that's 
different. when you curl up and night tucking your feet close to you and 
hugging your knees and shutting your eyes against the light and trying so 
hard to perfectly imagine that beautiful angel asleep beside you, with his 
arms wrapped around you and his breath slow in your hair and his golden 
curls tousled on your pillow. but no matter how perfectly you imagine it, 
it doesn't make up for it, and you count the hours until you see him 
again...yes, that's longing. so today i tested myself, and i knew, this 
was it. it was finally over. my tears still stain the little purple 
painted suitcase that i keep all of his memories in, but they were tears 
from long ago, from nowhere near now. and not only do i know i am forever, 
completely free of that sorrow, but i also know that something can exist 
that i never thought imaginable...a true, dear friendship, one as close as 
my closest, one i can love as i do all of you...i never dreamed to be so 
lucky as to make a friend out of one who once i loved best. but after this 
afternoon, i learned it was possible--nay, not even possible--probable--to 
befriend my puck and let him dance in the circle with the others without 
worry, or fear, or regret. it is quite amazing to feel that, to be free of 
it. yes, i am a very happy little alice. though i would be shovelfulls 
happier had i met my angel again today...

so much to do, so much to do...i whittle away my time fiddling with 
photographs and collages and attempting to remodel my page getting nothing 
accomlished, attempting a letter here and there and the words stick to the 
roof of my mouth in peanut butter stubborness and refuse to come loose. i 
wander through the realm of furcadia, wearing a kitten face and another 
name, wasting time and being silly...having deep and sentimental 
conversations with my brother...and ignoring the outside world, pretending 
that outside this room, nothing exists...until i create.

and i have created a festival to begin saturday. with every single 
character from any story i have ever created. everyone i know, and love, 
and miss incredible amounts, are picking up their feet id possible and 
dragging themselves here, and i keep twiddling my thumbs in utter 
nervousment, wondering what i was thinking, how my separate universe will 
possibly survive when they are all placed in the same room 
together...insanity, so many people, but it will be wonderous to see all 
again, to be full of hugs and laughter...as long as there is no blood to 
clean up afterwards, as long as no one gets their feelings hurt...and i 
have been without the presence of others for so long, i can't imagine how 
i will possibly act...but this is life, and an important part of it, and 
it's about time for my universes to meet the others. yes, it's about time 
to turn the world upside down.