Dear Pete

this peice is dedicated to my friend pete, I know he's responsible for the majority of my blogger viewings, i figured i'd write one with the possibility of inspiring him.- there are good, powerfull and amazings things out there in the world. if you never knew that than now you do. because-
I
just
informed
you

We can write about anything, you and I both Peter. Recreate any experience at all. Maybe- more importantly than being here, at our computer with an open mind, is the process of chosing our subjects properly. I believe in freedom. Like its some secret unspoken rule hidden away in our rights as americans. Our rights as humans. The thought that even the foulest of experiences may make for some of the most interesting and promosing peices. There are , in fact, some areas of my life that maybe I just dont want to share with the common folk. Even though, these situations, thoughts and instances are among the most powerfull- maybe we shall embrace the idea of chooseing our subjects wisely. It haunts me a little bit though my friend- just yesterday, do you remember when you were filling up my mp3 player with tunes and you read me the peice anout your kjsdfn;dk;jvndkn? I thought that was a ever so powerfull collaboration of words. It did youch me , being able to listen to the story. Maybe i'm the only one that will ever be graced with a peice such as the one that you read to me. We even conversated for a moment about the subject, and from some of the words chosen to describe what happened-I was able to remember the date. Except it was different. I had no idea at all that situations like this maybe for some folk could happen say, twice a week was it that you said? well at that point in time. Anyways my friend, its just an odd thought that maybe some people dont write for money or to inform. There's also some mystery hidden away. Just like you said you wouldnt want anyone reading that ever , unless they do after you die. Shit like that just keeps crunching away at my brain, its like, some people just do it, to it my friend. I have to think deeply about touching uppon some subjects such as yours. I mean- we are different people, yet in some strange areas of our life I think we're mysteriously connected. Even if it starts from the music in my mp3 player. Theres a little bit of influence in everyone, being fed from all different directions. Your peice did influence me to touch uppon subjects of a different matter. I enjoy outdoor adventure themed writing, but on a different aspect- I think we both know that theres more to be said than what one can learn from the birds and the bees and obviously the fish. I'd like to make people happy one day- through writing. I dont think its an easy task, and I wouldnt know how to go about doing it. Every now and again when im reading over a peice that i have jotted down in the past im left with a goodhearted unexplainable feeling- obviously caused by myself. weird right? Maybe its just so damn powerfull that you can even use it as a tool to better yourself.
ok
what
im
tryin
to say
peter
is

Maybe the most powerfull peices of writring arent supposed to be read. Mysterious subjects, even foul themed. Maybe at the time you could have be going through hell, but dosent it warm your soul just hearing me tell you that ive felt inspired by writing such as yours. Remember when I told you about my book and how it will only be started/published when its found- away at the time capsule at the bottom of the pond? (aka the guidebook for the journey) You and I are similiar man. You reading me the peice that you read aloud just yesterday goes hand in hand, and maybe a peice such as that one- should currently reside in "the waiting room" underwater, in the time capsule.

on
a
different
note
peter

just this morning after vommiting over the toilet as my stomach muscles were still cramping from the devils breath- I turned around a grabbed the sink, slowly looking up at my shirtless, sweating body.
My bloodshot watery eyes gazed back at themselves through the mirror and I felt the strongest deja vu, except I remember the person that i was staring back at. I havent seem him in quite some time- its been years in fact. Im discusted by the feeling and by the experience, yet in some unexplainable way a small smirk showed its way from the corner of my lips. "I know you" I said aloud- being the weirdo that i am.

Maybe our "guidebook for the journey" will never really end until the day that we die. And our anventures may never be read for hundreds of years. All I know now is that, in this life- the process of learning about one self, and the freedom to write aout it is a ever so powerfull one.

just
maybe

Its time for a swim, to go adding to the book of our lives- only to be found in our next life. Except this time, peter, it would be an honor to add some peices such as yours. a collaboration of the original starnger and the outdoorsman. it has a nice ring to it dosent it?

follow
me
down
the
rabbit
hole