Voices A long time ago, more than ten years, there was a girl that I had a crush on. We talked a great deal, more than I'd ever talked to any girl, and I thought - no, I knew - that we were in love. We worked together, and after work one evening, I offered her a ride home. Instead, she took a ride from another guy. A friend, she said, but I hardly knew what that meant. She had a lot of friends, and she had a thin line between guy friends and boyfriends. I was jealous.

I remember not knowing what to do except to be miserable. Self-deprecating, self-defeatist. I typed out a long e-mail to her, and I have absolutely no recollection of any specifics except that it outlined why she was too good for me. I never sent it.

You might think that this was the end, but no, it got worse. Understand that back then I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. Socially, I was so backwards that I was running in the other direction. Instead of sending it to her, I called. It's possible that I knew he would be there, that I would be interrupting.

I had some software on my computer that read text out loud. You could even choose from a variety of different voices. I set the phone down by the speaker and I walked away.

Today, I wonder which voice I chose, and how long it took me to pick it.  ¶ 8:30 PM

  Bonnie and Clyde The name and face of a woman haunts me from several years ago. I understand why it all happened how it did, at least as far as her part. In time, she explained herself well. Wishing it another way changes nothing, but still I waste the hope. We were like minds in unlike times, and all I have now is the memory of when we pretended otherwise.  ¶ 9:17 PM

  Jazz When we first got a dog, she was just a couple weeks old. A tiny little dachsund, smaller than the palm of my hand. This was in 1996. We called her Jazz.

At night, she slept in a big box under the telephone desk. After a while, she discovered that she could charge at the inside and push the box out, eventually knocking it over and getting out. My bedroom was one level up from the kitchen, and with enough effort, Jazz would climb the enormous stairs and sneak into my room. After that, she slept with me every night until I moved out to the city in 2000.

Today, her hair is mostly white, her hearing mostly gone, and her vision deteriorating. And still to this day, when she hears me or sees me, she comes immediately. I remember many times telling her problems and secrets, and feeling a bit better thinking that she understood. Still treating me no differently. This is what love is.  ¶ 9:53 AM

  Noises in the Dark The front door squeaked the same it always did, the floor made the same noises in the same places. It had been less than a week since I'd slept in that house. I walked through the living room, stepped into the kitchen, and past. I wouldn’t be long, there was somewhere else I had to be. When I left, the door squeaked behind me, and although I wish it sounded different, I knew it wasn't. Still, there was something that had changed. Maybe it was me.  ¶ 2:07 PM

  Sage Advice In and around 2004, I was listening to a lot of hip hop. There had been a lot of it circulating my collection, but nothing life-changing. I’d recently recorded vocals over an instrumental track, and the song that I made was unlike anything I had been listening to. But it was exactly like what I wanted to listen to. I was chatting with a friend about hip hop one night and I sent her my song. It reminded her of Sage Francis.

I had no idea who that was.

Since then, I've found that Sage Francis is among the most intelligent lyricists of our generation. He is dynamic, thought-provoking, and intense. If you like your music to have deep context, you'll find nothing deeper than him.

“The freeze frames keep him warm.”
- Sage Francis, Bridle  ¶ 9:35 PM