two-headed captive bolt

Retrograde motion of Mars in the night sky of the Earth.

JAVELIN is out today. Thank you for listening. I love you.

This album is dedicated to the light of my life, my beloved partner and best friend Evans Richardson, who passed away in April. He was an absolute gem of a person, full of life, love, laughter, curiosity, integrity, and joy. He was one of those rare and beautiful ones you find only once in a lifetime—precious, impeccable, and absolutely exceptional in every way.

I know relationships can be very difficult sometimes, but it’s always worth it to put in the hard work and care for the ones you love, especially the beautiful ones, who are few and far between. If you happen to find that kind of love, hold it close, hold it tight, savor it, tend to it, and give it everything you’ve got, especially in times of trouble. Be kind, be strong, be patient, be forgiving, be vigorous, be wise, and be yourself. Live every day as if it is your last, with fullness and grace, with reverence and love, with gratitude and joy. This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Thank you. I love you.  XOS

Ceratiomyxa fruticulosa var. arbuscula by Eric Cho

I’m okay. And, of course, I’m not, but I go through the motions. I wake up to the alarm’s howl, even when the word in my body is no. I dress in livid colors. I blacken the hairs of each eyebrow. I bake & braise & pickle. I write & read & lose hours to the blur of the television. I sit for hours in the bath, my skin puckering. I don’t know if I’ll ever go home again. I don’t know who I’ve seen for the last time. The Arabic comes back to me in streaks of paint, verb forms & vocabularies I may never again have occasion to use. My days smudge into one another & it’s not that I am afraid. It’s as if I am watching it all happen below, & I am somewhere above the room, wondering if the rice is burning. I am somewhere above the room, watching my new aches, watching the news as if I am reading it in a novel. I look up the names of people I knew in childhood, learn their new & angular faces, their faraway lives. My grandfather pixelates into a smile & I work my creaking muscles to replicate it. I do not ask if we will ever meet again, I do not ask him to read to me, or for anything that will make me long. I dull it with sugar & oil, with cooking shows, with sleep. I sleep twelve hours each night & in my dreams I am fleeing a war, in my dreams I am touching the faces of my friends, we are each one of us touching, & even in the dream we are afraid.