I go to bed feeling the same way

distance, as it had always been known and measured, was collapsing

My parents in Lincoln City:

some other sign that people do not totally regret life

Photos of my dad in Lincoln City:

Me, I'm dodgin' raindrops (meaning I'm on vaycay)

I went to the beach with my parents and a friend.

Like kissing a pencil and breaking it into pieces

In Lincoln City, Oregon, just a pier away from the bay:

If I had a hammer

I'm totally jealous of this summer camp for middle school girls I videoed earlier this week. They learned to build, weld and mix cement this week. Which officially makes them more tools-competent than I am. They are also adorable.

Building Girls Camp from Casey Parks on Vimeo.

Thought that I'd been on a boat / 'til that single word you wrote ... it landlocked me

To feeling free again, to feeling proud, to feeling hope:



"It was a miracle in that I could have taken her out of her life and into a life she would have liked a lot. It never happened, but that doesn't mean it wasn't there to happen. All of that has been a brutal lesson to me in not overlooking or misunderstanding what is actually there, in your hands, now. We always think the thing we need to transform everything -- the miracle -- is elsewhere, but often it is right next to us."
-- Jeanette Winterson

Tide stole my youth

Right hand in yours
Left hand holding the juice
When that jungle flower blooms
Better leave it in the ground
Don't try to cut it out
The creases in your brow ain't tan lines
Saltwater swole your eyes

- Frank Ocean, "Summer Remains"

Everything is illuminated

You don't need the stories of my scars or in the stars

Every day I cross 100 years of steel on two wheels. I don't stop, though I once did -- with you, to kiss atop the river. Kissing might be better, but barreling over the river is no sham way to start or end a day. Yesterday, with gates blocking the bridge crossing, I realized just how close to the water I am, how close we once were.

The bridge stayed up for half an hour. I considered turning back, navigating a different path. But I waited, watched it lower then raise again. When the pieces fit together again, I moved forward into the day.

One for every glass of water that I spilled next to the bed

Laurel is spending the summer in the Philippines and asked if I want to communicate via video letters with her while she's there. Here is the second one I sent her.

Letters to Laurel, No. 2 from Casey Parks on Vimeo.

jumped from an apartment window into the world and then out of it

For the past few weeks, I've been working on a video project dreamed up by Ryan. I don't want to give too much away yet, but basically it involves a lot of videoing people as they get ready in the morning. We're about halfway finished; here ere are some behind-the-scenes.

On a day nearly canceled by sunlight

So far, 29 has been really awesome. For that, I am giving myself this self-portrait.

Lose my page in the book then the plot then I swear

I've never played sports. I spent my childhood in libraries or begging my mom to write me another note to excuse me from PE. The older I get, the more physical I become. I really loved having a personal trainer last year. That gave me a new physical bravery, a feeling that I could try almost anything. So this summer I did something totally out-of-character for me. I joined a softball team. More than one person has laughed when I announced my new past time. But I can still be anyone.

We played our first game -- on an increasingly muddy, rainy field -- Saturday. I struck out once, made it to first base once and hit a few other RBIs (unfortunately, the ball beat me to first). Today, I can barely move. I feel proud of myself.