someday I will be a nomad will hopefully be something else soon.
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i really like making things. i grew up in a household that prioritized finding what made me and my brother tick. for me, it is all sorts of art. not quite sure what makes my brother push through the way he does. he's a strong and good man. i appreciate everything he does to keep me in line with the path i must follow. to me, it feels like some sort of spiritual journey. mostly because i believe in that shit and i know my grandpas story does stop with me or my brother.
i take a lot more pictures than i used to.
the idea of standing in one place and taking a photo is boring. my mom loves to take pictures of me, my brother, and my dad. she truly is a lovely and one of a kind human being. i know her side of the family is filled with turmoil that somehow blossomed into love. its confusing how she can do the things she does under the pressure of so much. some of the pressure i believe is past events that still flow through her brain like a broken dam washing away a lovely river town.
i grew up in ohio. where i learned how cool ohio state football can be. i grew up watching braxton miller and jt barrett. all of my family from ohio has moved back to help with new family members and old ones.when my grandma got really sick i was in my senior year of high school. it felt weird and still feels weird thinking of her and not remembering when she passed.
it makes me feel like a bad grandson. or just a bad person in general. i dont think she could really hear anyone by the time she passed. but i do know she could feel them. love brought her into her neighbors. a home away from home and a place where food was always warm. she told me a lot about them, my grandpa, her brothers who served overseas, and herself too.she was a coal miner.
maybe when we die our toughest moments are played out in colorful fights.like a boxing match with your own fiery, colorful version of yourself.and sometimes we lose, sometimes we don't. but you get up round after round.and go again.
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