300 miles

300 miles between us won't fix much of anything...
but we stay. on our respective sides. one to the east, one to the west.
i don't belong on the east side, but here i sit. waiting, wondering, fuming, musing, missing, screaming.
i belong in the west. on our prairie. where your wise words and jokes flow like the cannonball.

i know you don't remember. i just couldn't back down. i had to stand my ground. i think on any other day you would have been proud. but that day, it was too hot. it was too much. it wasn't ok. it was too hot. our tempers were too hot. and 300 miles between us won't fix much of anything..

stubborn and strong we are. stubborn and strong we remain. no sound on either side. bloody war. no smoke signals, no nothing. it's silence for 300 miles. a very loud, prominent silence. the absence of sound cuts through my heart like a knife. on that day, one red truck went east, one went west. no goodbye. just tires on the pavement. spinning. racing.

daily thoughts, i bury. i put them away. i put them in a box and tape them up. 300 miles of silence. 300 miles is a long way. what could i say. what should i say. how do i begin. i can't apologize. i can't make a joke. i can't stand these goddamn 300 miles.

that day, heading east. tires on the pavement. tears in my eyes. ache in my heart. i can't carry on this way. with these 300 miles of silence. something has to give. it has to be me. maybe a song, maybe the mutton tale, maybe...maybe...just erasing 300 miles. because 300 miles between us won't fix much of anything.

102 feathers found

I listen to my "Take the Money and Run" Pandora channel in the evenings most of the time. Right around the time my dad should be cooking dinner. I sit at the table, doing my homework, it goes on and on. I can't help but wish I was in the kitchen dancing around, giggling and throwing eggs and potatoes at each other saying "think fast."

We dink around. That's what we do. No one gets me giggling like my dad. And I'd like to say I do the same...Pretty close anyway. We have code words, inside jokes, outside jokes, made up songs.

Apart from all the laughter, there's been stern support. Big hands lifting me up, patting my back. These aren't even my favorite things. I would think the dinking would be. But what makes a lump in my throat and a swelling in my chest is when I think about all the things he has told me. All the stories, all the truths about the world, all the common knowledge every small town north dakota kid gets. Whatever he tells me, I store it away. Remember it deeply. Often his thoughts pop into my head. Like when I was home last, frantic about a photography assignment I dragged him along to show me forgotten homesteads. The first story was about a feather. Ridin his bike this summer he saw a feather for about five days in a row. And he thought, "hey, I've seen a feather every day. Im'ma count the sums a bitches." I saw a feather today. I thought, huh. 102 feathers he saw before the cold sent the birds flyin.

Take the money and run....

willow

i don't particularly know why today is so hard. somewhere buried you were in my thoughts. 

it's just so hard. fall is so hard. november is worse. and the holidays... 

walking into the mall today, i swore it was you. 

your coat. your scarf, your stance, your crooked fingers.

the woman was picking out a hallmark card. definitely a crown on the back... it makes me smile.

it makes it hurt. oh it makes it hurt.

it's empty and solemn. cold is moving in. leaves are being gathered.

fall is so hard.

i went there, to the mall, where i saw the old lady to get a new phone.

i thought everything had backed up onto my computer perfectly.

but despite my best effort, all of my memories didn't transfer over.

my last birthday call from you, didn't transfer over.

it's gone. like you. sometimes it was just nice to hear you one last time.

i have to stop crying now because my roommate will be home soon. 

which means i should stop writing.

i don't know what to do...

it's just so hard.

Cha cha cha changes.

In about four weeks I will be moved in to a house.

A rented house, deemed Alpha by the management company.

I will live in that house with him.

and him.

I think I will use this as an outlet, if anyone is still out there looking at this... 

It's gonna get interesting. Probably terrifying. And very humors. 

C out.

and most of all, i miss the wind.

i believe my dad when he talks about spirits.

i believe that they don't exist in a city. 

i believe they are on the prairie, near home. that they dwell in the quiet places of peace. where the soil is good and the wind howls. i believe that they are there for themselves and for us. all wrapped up in one. sometimes i get so lonely here. in this city. like i can't even breathe. i feel like i'm wasting. wasting time. wasting myself. i miss the prairie. i miss the wind there. i miss the smell and the colors. to me, there is nothing else i need to believe. 

i am so terrified about wasting this time. i want to drop everything and go home. walk with my parents along the river. talk to my dad about spirits. about everything. i wish i was done with school and i wish i didn't have such a tie to the relationships i've made here sometimes. it's heartbreak. it's the worst heartache. i can't bare to leave them either, but i can't bare to stay away from my home. 

how do people grow up?

i believe my dad when he talks of spirits.

i believe that they don't exist here in this city.

i believe they are waiting for me on the prairie, near home.

it's heartbreak.

5.365; 6.365; 7.365

 5.365; i hate this.

will revisit the idea on a later date.

 6.365; but i've been a fool and i've been blind.

 7.365; reflection.

7.365; reflection.

4.365

4.365; and the world, spins madly on.

2.365 and 3.365

2.365; there's just devils and dust.

3.365; the sky can't hold it's blue.

1.365 I was dreaming; but I'm ready now.

All rights reserved to Claire Fiedler

This is my first attempt at this. 
I haven't given myself rules. 
I haven't defined a style for the 365. 
It will be what it will be. 
My life, for 365 days. 

all of us are done for.

images from the last few weeks..

 jamming, jamming, jamming.

 waiting. for shows.

shows. shows. shows.

 sound guys. sound guys. sound guys.

images from home. the younger, wonder, wild years.

and tonight? show show show.

:)

found the best place to hide!! AND--

I JUST SAW DWIGHT!

blue lips, blue veins.

did you know i don't listen to her songs...remind me of you.
i ran across old conversations; saved in my box of memories.
it makes my stomach twist in knots. i can't believe how things turn out.

why was it so hard. for both of us. to figure it out.
i feel bad for boys...girls are so so so complicated.
probably unnecessarily so.. i don't even know what to say.

they keep showing your projects in g.d. so much talent.
i like looking at them again. feels like we're back in 1419.
she's shows pictures of her kid ALL THE TIME. (not that cute).
you know how i feel about baby's. and i know how you felt about her pregnancy. hahaha.

what am i suppose to say now. what is there to say.
hey. i miss you. you were my best friend.
my sadness and your happiness got in the way? no, that's so unfair.

especially to you. this isn't alright. i don't like how this feels still today.
it's unsettled. i want to tell you about all the things that happen.
there's something every. day. -- but...i just can't do it.

i wanted things to be better. i wanted you to try.
maybe.. maybe...i don't know. maybe that's life.
maybe this is how it's gonna be. or maybe it was all me.

i hope you're well. and sincerely happy.
and i wish you the best.
even though you'll never really know.

blue, the color of our planet, from far, far away.

november 6th.

willow,
you're so hard to talk about.
it doesn't seem like a year. it seems like a million and it seems like an hour.
you visited my sister in her dreams. please do that again.
i don't dream much, but when i do, could you drop by.
it's so very cold today. i watched a little old lady cross the parking lot this morning..
i wanted to go down and help her...
i just keep staring at the wall.
i almost laughed, the heat in my apartment isn't on. it's 55 degrees inside my little room...
you wouldn't mind. i miss you.
i miss you so much.
and again, i cry for you. and i cry for me. and thee eleven. and your kids.
today is so hard. i look at the picture of the eleven from this day a year ago and i remember how it felt.
and how i thought it was so unfair then.. and still do. but i know this is what you wanted most. you said it for ten years. and now you're as you said, up with the angels. but i still needed you down here.
love you,
the littlest.

i just found the coolest photog.
fuck i need to be better.
:(

room

my apartment is permanently cast in dull yellows and grays. 

the sweetest of pinks.

second post but sometimes things just come to you.

i wasn't ready.

it's not fair.

the leaves are blowing across the street.

you use to say how they were all running to grandma's house. 

i smile remembering, but it's tight. and i keep thinking it's not fair.

fall is hard because it's your birthday. 

fall is hard because the leaves blow and the colors turn.

school starts and you were such a teacher.

and then i wish i could come for wednesday lunch. 

i wish i could talk to my best friend.

oh sweet adeline, i wasn't ready.

it'll be snow that's blowing soon... i picked you up to drive you a block to church. 

in your warm parka. and your goofy scarves. 

warm pudding and twists. i know my sister tries. she's very good, but we both know they won't be the same. (i think we're both okay with that.) 

we shovel the snow and you would peek your head out the door, "i was wondering who it could be, oh it's claire and johnny :)" or a frantic phone call, "claire, can you come feed the birds, the snow is too deep for me to get through!!"

and then comes spring. and your favorite flowers bloom. and i framed the pictures for you.

the heat of summer, to grandma's, talk forever over lime popsicles and chicken strips and drummies. mow the lawn, spotless. we all did it. 

and then we come back around to fall again, and we're right back where we started.

i cry for my mother. and the eleven, and i cry for myself cause i can't think of another way to deal with it. stop being a wuss is all i can hear from you. i really just want to feel something. feel you here. anything, but i can't and it takes my breathe away. 

9.28.11

dear willow,


happy birthday. i save days like these. 
i pull everything up to see. to remember. to burn.
i want to call you. just to hear it ring, but i know it's not your phone now.
i want to come over. but i know it's not your house now.
i want to be able to say happy birthday.
but how can you hear it.
i can't believe we're missing this.
i've been up for an hour and i feel so distracted.
i stare off. i think of my mother.
and my cousins, brother and sister. i think of your boys. 
i want to hear your stories and talk about your day. 
i want to hear you calling to thank me for the card. and fight about the jesus vs. hallmark crown i would have drawn on the back. 
sweet adeline....it's still so hard.
i pull everything up to see. to remember. to burn.
i'll still save days like these.
happy birthday,
i love you.


miss you,
claire ellen adele.

i realize

my header is really huge. kinda like it, thoughts?

my sins caught up with you

i need somebody to talk to, but i pushed you away.

i need somebody who understands, but it doesn't look like your coming back.

 side note: something with hair blurring my photos..i love.

side note: little details is something i'll always be about.

side note: something about the waves will always be apart of me.