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Here we go again.

Dancing under the sun, our shoes are fun of sins. They pin us as liars, haters, and negative nancies, but our own sunset is what we see. It is the rhythm inside our heads that push us farther. They can't understand. They never will.
We speak a foreign language which humanity cannot comprehend. Because of this we suffer, but rising like the dough, our hot air balloon heads stay afloat.

To Kill A MockingBird

Pull me here, push me there. The way the wind blows through your hair. The same look I've always got. Rolling like tumbleweed through life. Who travels the paths of our lives before us? Tell me the name of the man who has beat the grass down which allows me to walk on my own feet. I am a boy, but I may not be your huckleberry.


People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness.
Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost.
~H. Jackson Browne

The wind whispers sweet songs, that only the dreamers can hear.
White clouds crawl across blue skies forever.
Ideas speak to my heart. Ideas, imagination.
Blown up fantasies of worlds that only a dreamer can see.
A hunger for truth. A desire for warmth. A dream...
A dream to feel the ideas becoming my reality.
A dream to sing with the wind.
A dream come true.
A dreamer.

Bulletproof

Favorite song of the summer so far. It's 80's delicious.
I've been burned by the sun; I've had acid thrown in my hand by my palm-reader; I've been picked last to play on the soccer team; but still I stand strong.
I'm listening to the bird sing songs right now and I could not be happier. Something about that voice...Maybe I'm wrong, or maybe I'm right, but I have faith.

neglected

Dear blog, you have been neglected. It is not because I no longer like you...I am simply writing in other places. I will return to you shortly.

The Last Ride

The Infamous Joshua and Laura adventures in Kirksville Missouri have come to an end. In glorious fashion, we left our final mark on the city and closed the door on a chapter of our lives. Jesus signs, boxes full of trash being transported on the top of the tank, and of course laughing at people over Mexican food..... ahh the life we have led for over a year now.

Much like Wyatt and Doc, we are friends til the end. So cheers to you Kirksville; thanks for playing host to our fun. I will return, but things won't quite be the same.

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Watching the sun set, our national anthem is blaring over the hills. The troops march on and the beat of the drum is growing stronger. Can you imagine? Could you even imagine? This the battle. We are complex lives with small-town morals and big city dreams.
This May travel far far away to a place that you have never been. Dream outragous thoughts. Feel alive.