Love Letter. It means a lot for someone to want to write it down. You’re so cute, they like you so much, they just need to document it. Put that shit in writing. Signed, sealed, delivered, I’m yours. Have you ever gotten a love letter? Or the short of it maybe — a love note? It’s been awhile since I have, that’s for sure. What I’m not sure about is why this program, Love Letter by Stephen Powers isnt funded in most cities. The Philadelphia Mural Arts Program has definitely made a good choice. These brick walls speak to me; Do you like me? Yes or no? I’ll check the yes box and hand deliver this love note, thank you. It’ll give you the warm and fuzzies even if it isn’t just for you.

You can also follow these love notes on twitter… aloveletter4u

This brings me to something I have realized in the past month: I like it here. Finding pants hanging from tree branches, getting hollered at by strange new-age hippies and not understanding a word they say, bacon maple anything, never taking the sun for granted, watching the kids turn tricks in the park just across the street from my apartment, being called the Lynx, trying something new and being god damn good at it, talking to brick walls (everyone has personality, you just have to find it), finding joy in small things like crowded chinatown restaraunts, other peoples’ photos, and objects that may double as a weapon in a time of need. I’ve gotten sassy and salty in my old age. I’m enjoying it. I hope you are too.

PS I’ll post photos from the photo booth / Macaframa / Hip to Help party ASAP… as soon as i get them from the grasps of J Symes.