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"Ana is the street spirit. Ana is in slow motion. Ana's echo is playing with her shadow. Ana is there but not. Ana is out of bounds from the spinning circles. Ana watches all of us, although we do not see her. Ana is oiled by philosophy and alcohol. Ana has been there and done most of that. Ana looks Vietnamese. Ana burns like a cigarette and resurrects from the black waters of the K hole. Ana is never in one place, but plastic statues of her lie in ruins everywhere. Ana is the adrenalin rush at the start of a wild night and the crystal-piercing rays of the dawning sun at the end of it. Ana is that moment in the morning when you want to get up for class but instead go back to bed and lay half-awake, dreaming something so beautiful that you swear to yourself you remember it for the rest of your lifebut an hour later-- you forget nevertheless. Ana is the blurry traffic light that blinks through the pouring rain on your windshield. Ana is the 3:47 a.m. reflection of hospital floors and the paranoid peace of an empty airport. Ana makes everyone seem so delightfully simple; everyone makes Ana seem so utterly complicated. Ana is misunderstood. Ana is more than we ever know. Ana is a secret character. Ana is the street spirit."

thanks marc.



Lately I've been wishing I had one desire
Something that would make me never want another
Something that would make it so that nothing mattered
All would be clear then
But I guess I'll have to settle for a few brief moments
And watch it all dissolve into a single second
And try to write it down into a perfect sonnet
or one foolish line
'Cause that's all that you'll get so you'll have to accept

i'm just so full of it.

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