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21 May 2011 | 19:33:25 CST
Heard, 26 May 2011 | 13:46:00
– unknown source from in the air
© jonathan saunders
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21 May 2011 | 19:33:25 CST
Heard, 26 May 2011 | 13:46:00
– unknown source from in the air
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21 May 2011 | 17:57:30 CST
150 Unknown Seconds Away
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21 May 2011 | 17:18:41 CST
Be Safe, Forever
The Day I Know I Was Born Was The Day I Think You May Have Died
365 Days Ago Was The Day I Was Definitely Born, Also
The Day I Could Have Died, Also
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Imagine once living in your favorite place and then imagine not being able to live there anymore. Imagine that you once made this favorite place of yours any color and any way you wanted. Now, imagine your new pleasure is that two of your four walls are a different color than the average. Now, imagine not being able to hear what you wanted whenever you wanted. Imagine that silence inside yourself. Now, imagine that you are not able to just get up and leave, here, to do something you may want to. Imagine your forever promise circle having to be cut off with tools. Imagine that others come find you in the night, wake you standing above your bed, in that silence you are stuck in, telling you, fighting you to hear them tell you what they want, what they believe, how they want to feel better, because they no longer even know where they are or who you are, or, they are. They just see you there. Do they know you are the source of my father?
My grandsource, what colors do you see when you look up at your two Sun’s?
The flowers someone gave you this day look nothing like what grows just outside.
– – –
Here, in this place where I walk in circles, I see how it looks while I await you to fall from the sky.
Two Circles Of A Day In Circumferences of 12:50 & 15:02
4th Day, 5th Month, All Day, A Bull Man With The Official Beginning K
When I turned 18, America forcibly taught me my life was less valuable than a woman’s. I never got over this, even twenty years to the day minus five. I don’t know where you’re from. I don’t know what you learned. I don’t know how you learned it. I know I didn’t invite you here. I know I didn’t ask you anything. I know I didn’t say anything to you. I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know if you want my money. I don’t know if you want my attention. You just appeared here all on your own, a MAPS spelled backwards, deaf, mute and blind to any real me, seeing you. I waited for you to leave, as is my nature, but my source of energy died.
So how did you know how old I almost was? How do you know I shave my head? How did you know it’s hard to be me? How did you know I cannot catch on? How do you know I don’t know what I am doing? How did you know I am an asshole? How did you know I am terrified of you? Do you really think I am fine?
Do you really want to thank me?
“They Don’t Get Life The Way I Get It”
I stole the birthday wish of my brother’s daughter.
I wished I was turning 7 again & I wished it won’t hurt when I die.
We had hundreds and hundreds of phone calls, many many video chats, uncountable texts and thousands of electronic letters totaling some maybe 100,000+? words. (I again tried to count and gave up, my first estimate here was so very wrong). This was all in far far under the last two years. Yet, I only met you, saw you in person, 5 times. We stayed in 5 hotels and you were welcomed in 2 homes of those that love me and sometimes share those homes with me. You, you never invited me, to any real you.
After our 4th meeting and before our 5th, I was planning this next trip of ours, excitedly looking at maps. You know how I love maps. I was planning my drive as your car was broken and you were on the way between where I stay and where we were going to go. So finally, I asked you, what I should have never not known, directly and simply,
“What is your address?”
You said, “I live in #### StreetName St., CityName, StateName #####”
The street address did not even match the zip code. I pretended this was all okay anyway, even though I knew this address was not real. I still wanted to see you. See you in person. None of these calls, none of these texts, none of these electronic letters mattered anymore. Who are you, when you stand in front of me.
We would still meet just days later, not where I stay, not where you live, not in the empty lot you told me you did, but at a place almost half way between us, found as we drove towards one another. In this meeting I almost didn’t come to myself, after a photograph I had made of us this day sank in, a photograph I asked if I could make, sank in, after the good and bad of this day sank in, after the words we shared sank in, after I watched and waited for you to sleep, or pretend to, while curled up in a ball next to me, I quietly left in all that dark when I didn’t really want to. I had decided you were correct in what you told me last time I left sooner than expected, so much time before this day, you said, “You don’t even know me.” That was all I was trying to do, all along. Know you. I never learned and you never wanted me to.
When I last heard you, you said it was funny experiences mean different things to different people who were both there. The last time you wrote me, you were proud that no one you know even knows you know me. There were so many things I asked directly, that I would only learn, later, on the internet, didn’t match. These were things that weren’t what I was allowed or taught to believe, all along. All along, you knew I was wrong and you didn’t correct me, once. I learned more about you from the internet, than you ever told me, directly. There is so much more, so much more, so much more – but my heart, my mouth and my brain are tied and tied by me alone.
Months after I last saw you, I did find where you really live, from a map, on the internet and I told you so. As you long ago told me, everyone, on the internet, your small neighborhood. As you long ago showed me, everyone, on the internet, what your home looks like. As you sent me long ago, a picture of a street sign, scarily closer than you likely even know… All I did, was learn, to put all these things together. I learned to doubt. I learned to doubt my eyes. I learned to doubt my ears. I learned to doubt your everything. So long ago, I stopped looking, at your everything. All this meeting you has taught me, was to doubt, everything, in a world I once found very beautiful. The world on the internet and the world not. Yet, you never stopped clawing me for it, teasing me for it, using parts of my specific me only I could see, for your others, time after time and times three on your birthday and the day after. Who knows for who or for how many or for why. Know not I. Today, this day, was the day I was born and tomorrow is the day after.
What + How, Do I Pretend I Didn’t Ever, Now, Clearly See + All
I Am 1 Of 1, Whatever I Am, I Risked More Than I Had For A Chance I Didn’t, I Told You True
“I can no longer see the point in making images I cannot share.” – Me, Being Read Back To Me, By You
Read Once Again After I Made A Thousand+ Images Of You & Before I Made Thousands+ More
By One Year And Less Than Minutes In A Day Is This Man
On This Day Of Mine Or This Day Of His, This Year, There Could Have Been Another
Someday, There Will Be
Stand in this place of a
Dead man who was once a Living man
here. Look in the opposite direction of North.
Then turn in a circle, slowly, all the way around.
Do this until the opposite direction of North
is once again the way you look.
This Is The Inside View
Of A Circle
My Whole Life, The One Thing I Can Remember, As Far Back As I Am Able
Is That There Is Something I Feel I Await, As Every Day Goes By
I Imagine I Will Continue To Await, Everyday, As Far As I Am Able, To Remember
Or Until Whatever I Await Does Arrive & I Know It, In That Moment, Before It Looks Away
Time Feels Different To Me Than It Seems To For You
Home I No Longer Have, I Want You Returned To Me
East Beach, Galveston Texas
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I once watched a woman who made things online for years. I wanted to get to know her, someday, but other than 3-4 random emails over many many many months, I never gave it much effort. You see, I didn’t want to be another random male follower to be placated to or ignored, as she has thousands of those already… I wanted to mean more than that. I knew she would have to find me. I even told a story or two of metaphor about her, for her, long before all did happen.
One day, she emailed me, she had finally seen me correctly. This started an avalanche of emails each way, I would not text first, I would not call first, I would not video chat first, I would not come see her in person first. She did, each of these things, first.
Before we ever met, she was once on a drive to a beach. She called me to keep her company on her drive, told me where she was heading and where she was. I was at my computer so I looked up where she was and I told her so. I told her as I looked at the street views of her drive what was coming up, things to look for and that I was in that sky up above her, happily watching. She was getting close and going through light after light, I kept pointing out things and she would tell me when she saw them. She told me this was romantic, I told her I agreed. She then got to where she was going. She parked her car and described what she saw, I told her the last view of what I saw where she was parked as the street view ended here, a look into the sun moment from the robot of Google®. I sent her the screen shot and later when she saw it, she said, that was it.
This Is Me Looking Up In The Sky For You Watching Me As I Drove There Where I Watched You
I Couldn’t Hear You Nor Could I See That Image Making Robot In That Sky Up There
I asked her to make a photograph of herself for me there. She did, so I think anyway, as later I would get a series of photographs of her on the beach, each with my name, Jonathan, in their title. I liked this. Too much. If in fact they were made there that day and if they were for me.
After I first met her and was still watching what she makes a short time later from back where I used to live, I saw her tell a story with one of these images of herself (with my name removed from the title) where she used to share. I had made her pictures in secret too that I had never shared before I saw her share what I thought was for only us. Since she shared first this too, so would I from now on. This image of herself has since been removed, along with so much more, but I remember it well. Too well. It spoke of a love not good enough for her, in detail. I did not know if this picture and story were about me even to this day, I thought it safe to assume it was as, well, this image was made for me, wasn’t it? I asked her about it once, to try and understand her better. I was then told to not ever question her or what she makes, she always had a way to not directly answer anything, even when she demanded the directness I gave her. I went back recently to look up the private answer to the private question I asked her directly so long ago now, are you involved or seeing anyone? To not my surprise, I didn’t learn by relooking.
Thy Public Secret Comparisons + Thy Public Bragging Of Secret Misleads = Thy Honor Carved In Public Stone
Over a year later since this beach drive of hers I watched, I told her now that I am in Texas, I hoped to see this place someday, with my own eyes, to go there myself, even if I were to go alone. She told me not to go. She begged me not to go even. She told me this place was “Hers.” That it is this way because of the others she takes there. I didn’t, never did and or no longer meant enough for this place. So for a almost a year now since she begged me this, this same almost year since I last saw her in person, I didn’t go here, no matter how much I wanted to.
Wave Out & Wave In
In this same last year we communicated (too much again over glass given what I have learned now), I have seen her say people don’t own idea’s or things photographed and that she likes to steal what others make to better herself and that she would like it if you steal from her as it makes her go make more things. This I do believe about her. You see, as much as she begged me not to ever go here, she went to all kinds places in her mind and eyes and ways, that were far more special to me than any actual physical place ever could be. For this same last year, each time I saw her do this, regularly, more than I can count regularly, I begged begged begged her to stop stop stop, as it hurt, too much too much too much. I stopped telling stories once for 60 days and the second story back, she did it again. Six months after that, I stopped my site again for a second 60 days. Then she did it again. She never did just stop, in fact, me telling her made her go make more, each time and find another thing that was just something I made for her, that she would now make to then give to another, like only I gave to her. I know she knows this all, as I told her, explained to her, again and again and again, for a year now, directly and privately. Yet she couldn’t or wouldn’t give me what I gave her and from where I sit now so far away, that’s all I see.
A Hole Maybe You Didn’t Dig Here I Found, Without Your Secret Husband Playing In It
I have stopped even looking at anything she does anymore for longer than I ever have after watching for many many many years. I know and remember what was there before we met and what is there and how and secretly why after. The things she makes with her eyes and her brain and her body just no longer mean what they once did after I learned all I do now know.
I didn’t see or feel what I thought I would here.
But finally, I went to this beach. Alone.
I got bitten by too many misquotes.
I hope these bites don’t scar, too.
The Sky Above The Bay This Day I Did Make Star Trails
– – –
The East Beach I Now Know Is Not The East Beach You Did
“Alex Didn’t Find His Dream, His Dream Found Him”
I Am Not What I Once Was, I Miss The Before You Me