you can name it.

2011-03-03T18:15:00.002-05:00

this must be a joke
a punchline gone under-heard and under comprehended
maybe my irony is your irony no more
maybe the plastic ware really is the joke after all

because by the time i'm gone, and you're gone, the Earth is still Ours.
We Own It.

so let's, my demon friend, let's.
throw it down, stand tall on it's ear, on that soft spot that dips in so deep at the slightest pressure.

it's an elbow to the ribs, just under the slightly jagged line of sweat ever-so-noticeable

some days, it's a pit of anger in the fire-belly. the kind that sends an wagering fist tough into the drywall, ending with disappointment (the brunt of the damage goes to knuckle #3)

Demons

2010-07-21T17:43:00.002-04:00

in the form of fast-flowing sunshine and stellars hopping

chasing them away may require an art form level of chaos, despair, unreasonable acts
bring on the lightning and the chords off-key, because it's time

time to wipe away the cover-up and sing-songiness of bliss
just get them out of here
make it appear apocalyptic, but bring the smile internal

i'm ready for a storm

new days and summits

2008-11-04T14:31:00.002-05:00

she said it right
new blossoms bring new flowers
but freezing rain comes fast and near
flee quickly and quietly
to avoid their hard-hitting blows

let's get there
uphill - start walking slowly
we can't run or we'll tire before the summit
we'll have a better view from there
and possibly build to a higher place yet

still waiting and wondering
if i'll be there
or you'll be there

What does grandpops know about candy? He doesn't have any teeth left for the candy to be stuck in like we do.

2008-09-08T10:39:00.000-04:00

What do you do when the whole world could crumble with one wrong step, and you’re telling everyone not to take the step – but there’s candy, that their grandpa said would taste really, really yummy, so they just can’t resist, because the crumbling of our Earth means less than listening to ‘ol grandpops, so they all go for the candy. And there’s nothing you can say or do to stop their craving for the candy – even if you know, and have excellent oration skills, that the candy tastes like poo. Good ‘ol, traditional poo. You plead and cry and sink a bit inside when they are conjure up their plans to take that step towards the candy that tastes like poo that they’ve been told tastes like yummy and you sit motionless, waiting for everything you believe in and devote yourself to to die die die and you try to control the impulsive convulsions. What do you do next? Do you keep trying? Keep trying to talk them into taking a step backwards, looking at the potential consequences of that fatal step, into realizing that their grandpops’ taste in candy might be a bit old fashioned – like Mary Janes or Sugar Daddies when you’re really into Gobstoppers and Blue M & Ms. When asked, you say you really like Mary Janes and Sugar Daddies, but when you’re alone you always pick up the Gobstoppers and M & Ms and would admit that though you like both, you think that the Mary Janes will stand the test of time, and the world, with more truth. Bullshit! Kids these days don’t even know what Mary Janes are! Shit! We only know what they are because our parents and hipster clothes may have shown them to us once or twice. So you’ll believe your grandpops, over me, one of your own generation, of your similar experience, and take that step to end our world? WHY WHY WHY

less enchanting, more real

2008-06-19T18:17:00.001-04:00

it's the bumbling rumble of black clouds' approach
it's the nose itching wishing of coal smelt too close

it's the do or don't shouldya of teens' dated days
it's the punch in the arm to scare away strays

it's the duo whose dueling has dragged us too near
to global atrocity afamed in our ear

-
our teles our phones our pcs and drones
calling and shouting to each of us own
to take it in each of our scouring eyes' hands
and throw cast drown kick until each does land

and take it a step in direction said naught.
run away pun away but remember the take away
message
from me, your confidante, your truth and light,
other than Truth and Light.

I've told them today. Told them time heals hearts heavy.
I've told them today. Understanding is mine.
Can I lie? Can I mislead them today?
I can. And I have. But conformity and Hallmark
have got me by the throat.

_
have i made a picture for you? have i created something
beautiful?
i miss beauty. i miss capital letters before words with
full intention.

i have a source, yes one. just one. the simpleness of
one is less confusing, and albeit less enchanting,
more real.

a pebble/an arrow

2008-06-09T14:28:00.004-04:00

it's a pebble, sitting on a post, stuck in the sand
a small wind feels cool on it's shell and is welcomed on a sweltering day
it's the briskness, though, that throws it from its hold
back to the piles and miles of meaningless little pebbles
soon to be sand, walked and polluted, rarely polished too clean

so blow with ease, and fair your audience
keep close to mind that each walks a blind path, unaccustomed to sameness and
expectedness

we'll take the arrows of the world, send them forth
watch them wiggle in that soft breeze, switch hard left or right
but left if it's mine
we won't see them land,
but it will give us more solace than the bullseye
the arrow would never choose the bullseye
no more than it would choose the suit and tie
and grey/brown cubicle too close for contemplation

when the game is played by the frequency of sound,
there is no ending, nor beginning.
when notes are pounded until racuous blazes of bass come filing out in no particular order,
when flips are attempted at too short a height to land on the resting note,
when shouting of songs sounds less like singing and more like being
that's when you'll find no point
no dot on a line
no click of the timecard punch

and it's all for the better
for a good piece of this world

to my brother, drew, who danced his life to the sound of nobody's song but his own -
rest in peace.

The long march

2008-04-04T10:44:00.003-04:00

When the rain rains, baby
It pours
And brings me to my knees in wanting

As I kneel, drenched in cold, pure water,
My eyes squeeze tight and my head falls back

You’re here with me, I know
But not enough

So I am off.

I’ll trudge through the field
Of mire and high grass

I’ll crawl through the opening
Left gaping in the fence

I’ll fight off the demons
I’ll play the role

Until your fingertips see mine
Face to face

I’ll fight on
And on

I am almost home now
No there, still,
But almost home
Not wanting.

The long march

2008-04-04T10:44:00.001-04:00

i get a little excited

2008-02-23T21:10:00.001-05:00

it's the complication which slows production
simplicity is the only way to keep things truthful
if you can't do it right, take some numbers on down
to one, two, three. get those right. add more later
looking over the shoulder just to smash into the fencepost
isn't my idea of "got things covered."
greg brown sounds harsh at first
but learn the words and leave the rest behind
and you'll understand that the voice counldn't be any different
to the same effect.
break it down. simply. truly. it will come together.
over you.

yeah, that day

2008-02-15T15:12:00.002-05:00

It’s a day where inside I wait
For what none should tell
But for me I will sit

I’ll sit and stare and take in and out
The snow the air the musing about
And what to my wandering eyes should appear
But nothing
Again nothing
To spark my external drive to speak laugh love care
Know see
Anything

It’s the gray, they say, the oppressive gray
Blanketing us
Oh that 16 feet per 5 miles curse
Each wave desperately trying to reach my eye
To give me some sense of what’s more
They can’t reach, the bend has won

And my day will again by dressed in dark
Blessed for none
And here to stay

familia.

2007-12-25T02:05:00.000-05:00

family is truly absurd.
here we are, thrust into a circle of those supposedly the closest to us, only to find ourselves less than understood and far from brotherhood. in fact, it is the painful push of family that drives too many into despair. why are we responsible for our own? why should we be held accountable for one who simply shares our dna, our roots, when in actuality, we are enemies. fiercely.

this is the time of year for joy, eggnog, and excessive paper use. yet, i feel less happy than i did during those other 364 days. we've forgotten jesus. wait. what am i saying? christmas is less about jesus than it is about jedis. but we've forgotten emotion. emotion is our ticker, heartbeat, it controls our ins and outs, our whats and whys. when we sacrifice it for a day of family, we are giving up a day of our lives.

my family is unique, to say the least. i do not claim to have the worlds "anythingst" family, or whatnot, but we surely do not belong in the same room together. you have, and in no particular order:

the biggot with a high IQ and little regard for it's presence
the biggot's girlfriend, whose mere existence contradicts that of her other
the bitter one who tries to buy happiness while melting into a sea of molasses, while completely denying the properties of molasses
the down and out who wants desperately to be the opposite of down and out, but refuses to find a path that leads to that tree
the lost hope who is waiting to die, and finally using that waiting time wisely

and me.
well, you should know at least my words, which gives you enough information to form a poorly developed and underilned sentence about me.

i argue for the sake of winning said argument. which is why i refuse to walk that line unless i know the outcome will match my sake. you won't find me often on that line, absorption is much more educational.

i get my education by listening. by taking in the masses, and throwing out that which dilutes the topic at hand. then i know. or i believe. read back, know=believe=thereisnorebuke

my mother is at work. it is 12:38am on christmas eve. i do not like this fact. however, my mother is not the only one, and with separation of church and state as i believe it should be deciphered, i should think. fine. of course. it's a job. somehow, i am still disturbed.

maybe it's that i believe that one day, as bland as possible, should be set aside as a day for rest. once a year, everything should stop. in fact, once a week would be nice. who needs celery on a wednesday anyway? i don't.

the musings that are passing through my overgrown hair right now are stopping short of fulling mingling within my brain. it's that feeling of assuredness without a clue of what the comfort is. i somewhat enjoy this feeling, for small glimses leave me forever with shining light, and never complication.

there is a beautiful girl waiting for me, and i cannot fulfill that finale. that is very surely a frustrating feeling. far too much of my life is spent contrary to my core.

this is one of those times.
must paint on the circus face.

curtains are strangling the room i lie within them

2007-11-14T23:52:00.000-05:00

the windows are rattling,
the curtains raging uncontrollably

i grab and reach and try to multiply
my arms to four

but the quake rages on,
unaware of my efforts, it seems

or does it?

it's quite possible, you know, that i sense what you are seething from your pores.
it's also quite possible, too, though, that the air is on too high, and you refuse to turn it off, and the sweat has been stolen by the thin air in the room.

i'll venture to say that i'm running faster than my legs were meant to move,
and i'll quit this race before i'm shown how the ground feels when introduced to my nose.

but that quake, or was it a storm? battles its way through the chilled night (not as chilled as the word conjures), making my eyes small and waste-like, and my arms forever flailing.
this is my least favorite kind of a night. accompanied by a gray thing who does not sense wrong from on. so eerily tired that sleep is not the rememdy called upon.

it's simply, well, just, i tried to do right.

lies of light

2007-09-24T18:41:00.000-04:00

it seems the trees have come back to listen
soon their leaves will leave me hanging once again.

i'd like to be like them
abandoning the bitterness before it gets too serious.

the bright light picking apart my eyes is tired now too
and it's making me feel less surrounded by truth in light
and more as if a shroud of tightening uncertainty
has come to stay.

please understand me, leaves, and stay as long as the light tells its lies.

Frigid

2007-09-13T09:23:00.000-04:00

It’s a day that sends birds higher on the cold front breeze.
The first day in ages that their wings do no work at all.
I can see the liberation in their movements.
I see the water so blue and still-like that it seems to be bored.
Too untouched for a blue-sky morning.
The blue of the water so very much bluer than that sky.
My walls are blue, too, but so purposefully gray.
As I stare out the double-paned glass at the bored blue water, I notice my nose.
I always see my nose, no matter the direction I am seeking.
Why have I never thought to pay attention to it?
Shouldn’t eyes have been placed so that the one protrusion of the face
is not eternally nagging them?
Maybe I’m claustrophobic right now, sitting in this gray, indoor, chilled room.
Nobody knows I am here. T
hey have not put thought to it yet this morning.
I have put thought to where you are, though.
Much thought, in fact.
I’ve thought of your eyes shining a dull green that
only offers itself in times of thought.
The straight face and occasional laugh that to many seem
regular,
unplanned,
characteristic.
I see them now,
in my mind,
the undertones of your night
taking your eyes hostage.
I wish they would release them,
because the sparkle
is what I love best.

Lately, when I close my own eyes,
I see a trapped ocean,
desperate to escape the brick red walls that enclose it.
The crashes are so violent, so calculated,
but not even the spray is able to topple the barriers.
I want to knock it down.
A giant hole, right in the middle,
me with my sludge hammer,
sweating beads and blistering fingers,
swinging away until the sea frees itself.
This vision is strange to me,
see,
because when I think ‘free,’
I think of the wild waters
of the untamed oceans.
I think sunset in Monterrey,
with nobody in sight but the massive sun
dipping into its evening bath.

When I begin to form words about what I want to make of this feeling,
I have more visions.
The most prominent is a sketch book.
Four pages deep, each of a human outline, w
ith astrological markings, directional arrows, clues to each own psyche.
I’ve given them to you to peruse,
to see if you can find mystery or err.
The first page makes you laugh.
You’ve seen it so many times before,
and you confirm your knowledge of that sketch.
The second and third, you know, too.
They send you into question,
they show you pieces of yourself,
pieces of your own future.
The fourth, however, is a bit smeared.
It seems that only extreme times call on this sketch to arise.
It looks most careless.
More imperfect but true than the rest.
This sketch you miss when it has left its page for too long.
This fourth page begins to fill with colors,
dark and bold,
careening around the shoulders,
down the legs,
not paying full attention to the lines it set out to follow.
You realize that, more than a sketch,
this page is full of energy.
Dark, glorious, intent.
As it fades away,
so too do the lines of the body.
So too do the eyes as deep as the the world
and the fingers on fire.
You miss it already,
but are happy to have the other three,
faithful that the last powerful sketch will return in time.
Something so pure and intimate could find no other eyes to see it.

You smile now,
a half-smile, really.
The smile that you take on
when nobody else is watching,
the smile that tells yourself-
I was right all along.
And you know, that the fourth piece of paper
will lie in wait for the return of its soul,
only to show itself as true and real,
as all-encompassing as a spirit can be,
and that sparkle flickers in the knowledge
that it will show itself only to you.

not sure why

2007-06-02T23:31:00.000-04:00

why do we differentiate people from people?
why do i judge who i see and decide who they are?
why do we all?
i'm frustrated now over a silly newspaper article.
i see a famous face and because i can spell her name from exposure,
she is special.
but what about the names that i have yet to see? hear? know?
are they no more important in this life of unforgiving justice?
i think not.
i wonder.
if we were to create a calculation
an utter number
to decide worth
the criterion? what would they be?
you struggle only because of your political correctness, not because of your granular ideas.
i see them too, in me.
i won't admit them here, for, certainly, my argument would nullify itself. can expression exist if contradictory? is not all we say and do and perform for the morality it betrays?
i think it is.
clothing.
hair.
thoughts put in air, on paper, in paint.
morality, our own totem pole of justice, sitting and waiting to be broadcast to the world.

anyhow, please do not allow my tangents to get the best of me.
i have finished a white with no intention of doing so. does this prove a problem?
i believe that we create problems before defining them. to every good, there is a worse off.
this the the fuel that we use for our judgements.
can anything just be...because?
doubt i cast upon this thought, only doubt.

it is right.
it is wrong.
it is too much, just right, too little.
tell me your guidebook and it's origin.
the nation, the politician.
tell me the author, the reasoning, and then, if supported in my inquiries, i may accept or deny your assumptions.

but for now, i refuse to accept that which is known to be good, bad, right, or wrong.
we are all individuals, she said to me, and i was told to believe her.

so i did.

miss

2007-05-22T21:50:00.000-04:00

you. miss you. i miss you.
missing someone is a strange thing. it's like that love feeling, but it's not sure where to attack.
the heart? the head? the day?
i think now it's wrecking havoc, but time will surely calm it down.
yes, time. i thought time goes quickly when business gets the best of us, but i think i was malinformed. as of now, i believe that two days has dragged further into my past than i've ever looked before, and i've not stopped even to sit, or think, or sit and think.

i guess all there is to do is wait and work and clear the mind of unwritten walls.

not sure anymore

2007-05-05T11:55:00.000-04:00

the worst possible feeling, for me, is uncertainty
i am a person of conviction
strong words
and assuredness.
right now, i do not believe the above statement,
and it's all for nothing.
well, that is to say, i can't think of the thing it's for.

that's what hurts right now, the unknown. it's not necessary, is all.
i've put myself out on this planck, not wanting to take that step, of course,
but i do. i do because if the ship is light enough to stay afloat
post departure, i'll be saved, too.

i've never had streams on my face when trying so
hard not to have them. strange feeling, really.
i mean, if i refused them in days past, they stayed put.
if i let them out, no holds barred.

i truly dislike cold rooms on sunny days,
especially when the true mercury is unaffected.
chills from the inside, Ice-9, so to speak.

i'm starting today, a new series of self-improvements.
the first is to rebuild a wall that i allowed to be toppled.
East Berlin, I've missed You.

bigger better faster stronger

2007-03-22T17:47:00.000-04:00

why these changes? can't the rain just be the rain without melting the earth? without forcing cavaliers to collide in brake-failing angst? why the upgrades when things are fine? have we forgotten that the peripherals are simply that...add ons?

we try to better ourselves by making ourselves bigger, faster, stronger, more. more is not the answer. surely, it will be our demise. i believe this, truly. i believe, truly, too, that the culture surrounding this country and its devout wannabees over that dirtied ocean will spell the end of it all for all of us.
i am not implying that atoms will explode with isotope fury, or the ozone will forget how to cover our skin (which, of course, are both viable circumstances), but that the people themselves, us, will simply implode, melt, lose the only redeemable sector of this existence.
life. human life. from the brain, the heart, the feelings of our soul. that raw insistence that the universe hands us to remind us that our purpose is just, thus, too, our existence.

now, i'm angry right now. generally, you may have learned, my anger calls words the fcc would condemn to fire from my fingers in blazing glorified ire, but not today. not today.
the anger i face is that the control i feel over my life has slowly been melting to mush under this techno-saavy pressure of emotionless nothings. yes. i must savor my moments with peace, quiet, and thought? should a time be penciled for declaration of love, expression through art, music, laughter?
i feel a part of myself dying. literally leaving my field. i can't find it often enough. that spark that drives my life, my ambition, by relations with this rare-kind world.
tired of the trap.
i am ready for words plastered on paper, for ink bleeding through the page, for brushstrokes so fine and so perfect that a photograph is less real. i am ready to look more often into eyes than into screens of false worlds. i am ready to hear only the sounds of birds, water, and banter when i step outside. and when i sit lazily on my couch. hell! i may as well combine all of these things! make a day of reality! peace! love!

but say nay more i for this i shall end upon:
fuck it all.
i will always fail at this unless assisted by my world.
keep dying, i will.

that outline

2007-02-02T12:59:00.000-05:00

you lying there
just the outline is visible
the faint brushmark of your body
seemingly floating in space
and i can't decide what is more beautiful

that perfect silhouette
or the mystery which fills its void

while i was away

2007-01-12T14:19:00.000-05:00

we were supposed to engage in a mock-battle. a battle with jello and liquids. we would hurl the cups full of our ammo across the gym floor to the other side, filled with students in marching band. i hit three students square in the head, but i felt that it was part of my duty. i didn't know why we had to do it. i didn't understand what the fighting was for. all i knew, in my starlit state, was that it was required of me, to stand up for my side of the battle.

after the battle ceased, the three girls pursued me. i ran through jungles and swam across rivers and knew that i would be safe only in my rectangular room, with her. i surely would stumble upon it at some point in the midst of green leaves and monkey tails. they were hot on my tail, and finally tracked me down, armed with cups of kool-aid and soda. i begged them, pleaded with them, to put it down, that i only doused them minutes earlier because of a sense of duty. they were nice enough, but explained that retribution was the only school of revenge that they were versed in. so they did it. they splashed it all over me, and it was wet. not only was it wet, it hurt. it sent pains radiating throughout my mid-section, and when i tried to tell them, they were disinterested and had started to retreat. there i sat, in grass as tall as the wild boars roaming the fields, unable to move, unable to call for help. i had some of my senses with me, telling me that i could not possibly be so harmed as i felt. afterall. kool-aid? jello? soda? carbonation only stings for a second, right. i began to crawl to wherever my body could take me, to find my room. i knew that i would be safe in her company, in my mishaped room.

i found it. i found it with relative ease. in fact, i do not remember even climbing the 31 steps to my safety, but there she was, waiting for me, but without a smile. i must have been gone to battle months or more, for i'd never seen her hair so long before. maybe somebody has talked her out of cutting it short like she's always wanted, i thought. the joy overcame me so violently that it pushed any pain that i'd carried back from the warzone into history. she never smiled, though. she just said hello, and how was your trip without enough intonation to warrant the punctuation that should follow. my chest cavity urged me to cry. it's easy to do, i noticed, when the body is weakened, to allow all emotional strength to vanish. i thought that maybe i was crazy. maybe one of her moods had persisted in my absence, the mood where she feels her teeth clamped shut and her lips immobile, her eyes unaccepting of new stimuli.

i decided to wait it out, maybe tell a few bland narrations of what i had seen and heard, hoping to get a one word answer back from her, to momentarily calm my fear that the never would may be well on its way to is.

she said that she had to go to lunch with a friend. at the word friend, the sparkle that once caught my breath and threw it out the window appeared, but stole no breath of mine. i still could barely surmount the locks of hair that reached almost to her elbows. moreover, i wasn't sure if it was even her. maybe the battlezone had done more to my perception than my rationality had room for, maybe nothing in her had changed at all.

as she left the room, i flipped on the wall screen. it showed her every move. it showed her at a well lighted cafe, art on the walls made of yarn, a single pink carnation in an old, tarnished vase on the wooden table. across from her, a woman of age 40 or so. maybe an old teacher? maybe a friend of the family? my spirit should have lifted, i kept telling myself. why did not the relief of a story's conclusion fill my body as it surely should have? i wanted to turn the wall screen off. but i didn't. instead. i watched for hours. i watched that sparkle gleam incessantly for something that i could not quite get a hold of. i watched the long hair become part of her, i watched her smiles. her smiles were not nearly as wide and as unplanned as they used to be. how disillusioned my absense must have made her.

i laid down on the floor, i remembered the first time we had met. i remembered the first time we had seen pure beauty pour from the eyes of the other. and my body began to ache again. and i knew that it would never cease. it would never be cured because she was the only way. she was the only one to help me. so i closed my eyes tightly, partly from the pain of my stomach, mainly from the hopeless despairity i saw in my coming days, and i began to cry.

i woke up crying in this way.

am i a meow?

2006-12-15T01:39:00.000-05:00

she told me to think of something to talk about. anything.
what a funny thing to do, i thought. pre-meditate in speaking.
then i began to wrap my head around that big blue ball we call Earth and i searched.
binary, of course, 0s and 1s only please. it looked something like this in my head:
[000110100101110001010011].
after staring at that number for a time i can't explain (it came in spurts, can't be quantified by a line of time streaming by, obviously), i came upon a topic. a great one. something that i've picked at and eaten small bites at a time but never fully tasted. who ever decided that grapes should be small, anyhow? a grape the size of an apple, now that's what i'm talking about. anyhow, right.

that topic. maybe...mmm....say...life? i've solved its mystery, so read on.
the one that i live, the one that you live, the collective life of us all...that kind of life.
although cinnamon creates quite the tasty treat, it just doesn't hold as many mysteries as this fated dream i walk through.
[you may have the misconception that i meant 'faded,' but alas, no. faded, my dreams are not, nor is my life, however fated i see them in front of me, they surely do not blur around the edges. no need for inconspicuous days, here, no need]

back to life. aaaah. the ever elusive, bouncing, singing, glorified, touch the sky, life.
or for some...the dragging, tortuous blanket of time of which they cannot find a way out, day in, day out, and soforth.
life is crazy. really, it is. the word only exists, the idea only exists within us, because of the definition itself. neat, really, if you put your mind to it. she asked: does the cat know that it is a cat? and to that i say...does the cat speak our language in which we determine the word cat and it's textbook, 3-lined definition?

the answer, my good sirs and madams, is NO!
why of course not, but.
i heed to wonder, and i pause without err...

do we know that we are a meow? why. no, of course not, because we can only be defined within the context of ourselves and our likenesses. case settled. life ch.1.

more life to come...

2006-12-04T18:12:00.000-05:00

my command of words isn't what it once was
my teeth clench too tight
my eyes divert too quickly
my head pushed toward the ground
this stream i've created for you sometimes runs dry
and when what i need most
is rain
only sunshine shows her face.

fate hope and shiny things

2006-12-02T22:04:00.000-05:00

it's amazing how a portrayal of a real life, in real time, is boring to us. we want drama, we want laughs, tears, immortality. we don't have that. this place is precious. we are precious. do you know? do you know that you are here? that it is highly likely that you never would have been chosen to step foot in your front yard, hug your mother, sleep in new sheets?

we are far too expecting. we expect to be here, to have a warranted, no-strings-attached stay... because we are here. that is it. we are here. i was chosen. you were chosen. a few billion people out of how many genetic possibilities? do you wonder? do you wonder why you were chosen?
is this a vacation for you? a stay in paradise where nothing worries you but the timeclock at work and the heel you couldn't glue into place? or possibly the leather that the goddamn forsaken rain ruined last week.
[it was $300 brand new. i hope you cried about it, or maybe you were just angry at the world for the worst day ever.]
i know that my speak is self-rightous and my head hitting four walls at once, but i would like to try to make one thing clear to you.

you have a purpose. a reason. you were created, you were a brain-child, you are a masterpiece. you. you in your hands. hold something that nobody else in past present or future existence has etc ever held. if our uniqueness is not to be highlighted, should we be drones? possibly. i would surely have jumped by now if in those means, however.
i'd like to chat with you about this.
sit down over coffee, black, unstirred, unmarred by chemicals' reach.
i'd like to sit down and ask you why you are special. why you were chosen.
i know what you would answer.
'i don't know. how should i know?'
possibly an irritated 'who cares?' would suffice for your purposes. wait. i musn't use the word purpose so freely from here on. perhaps a capitalized Purpose would more easily set your focus to its meaning?
perhaps.

your Purpose.
i will spell it out for you the best i know how. which is in my own way. my own time. within my own context of life, beauty, and some mystical blend of the two. pyroxene. in case you wonder. two cleaves at 90 degrees. H=5. luster..vitreous. this may be scornspeak to you or more simply, wtfayta?
somebody discovered it. somebody solved its mystery. something simple. look it up to see more detail.
tape. transluscent. non-toxic. reusable. $.99. somebody thought it would advance our ways. it has, and is simply a member of our desktop conglomeration now. but he toiled. and cursed. and tried and tried and sweated it out until he could pick up the phone, dial 3m's 800 number and say 'i've done it!' and Purpose was served. wounds temporarily healed. birthday's made to magic porportions, windows held fast through stormy nights.
a hug. the hug. that changed a life. not by chance, either, do not be so sure. a hug and a very sincere 'it will be alright.' the two acts combined. saved a life who was to take her own and her family's too. she never heard those words, felt those arms, from them. filthy bastards. a Purpose was passed, however. a Purpose was utilized by one, implanted into another, and lifes lived. the life. that life. initiated the treaty between two nations which would trade food for goods. and pay it forward played hardfast in too many lives before it's screentime. Purpose. is contageous.
find something beautiful outside. pick it up. is it a red leaf? a penny? something so simple yet so immistakably complex and impossible. so intricate as to have affected humankind in a salvatious sense for all time.
our time is our time. this Earth, it's finiteness, is controlled by the balance in which the people it so graciously houses sustain. our Purpose. is defined long before you think of it now. your Purpose is special. i want to know about it. i want to hear about it. no. this is not a belief statement or ms. davis' two sentence thesis on how you plan to save the world. it's you. who you are. how you are. who and how is simply a product of Why in full. this circulation of love, passion, triumph, failure, respect, perserverance. it is the middlemost link in the chain which will someday explain the grand Purpose. we are always. the middlemost link in our own lives, whose life becomes that link for a group, a family, a community. this microcosm expands to leave us with existence. our time here. this Earth. all of humanity inhaling and exhaling to keep each other standing upright, working hard to just stay alive and with health and heart. we are that link. you are, in essence, that link.
make your Purpose part of you. make it something you see when you wake up. something you smile about. realize. believe. that we are all here. as chosen. as creative. as irreplacable people.

"film proves helpful in constant search for direction."

2006-11-16T17:26:00.000-05:00

one of those days
that takes you under, some may say but i say
"on the contrary, my hens."

i need days like these, and you do too.
rain, darkness,
every metaphorical negative to every shining positive that exists must be in place

i see a film
covering my eyes
it isn't fatigue
nor pain
surely cannot mean misunderstanding

simply a portal

unicorns needed them and i do too
don't you?
this wide expanse of mind body soul conglomeration that spans mine yours and her existence.
it's blanketed. yeah. i know. jason schwartzman already gave you all that idea.
but did you feel it? did you understand with the tightening in your chest? the quickening of breath, the 'look around to see if i am the only one?' huckabees is right about what is wrong?
we are allowed to feel numb.
we must, to process clear thought.
clear thought is one thing.
truth is another.

clear thought helps me to write things in a small white box with orange and blue buttons to tell you how to make a sandwich with three ingredients and two small tools.
truth is never lucid. it only feels that way.
appearance is nothing, and the day that i fully understand why will be the day my feel truly leave the surface of the Earth.
i am still in waiting.
i will remain there for some time.
i believe it's the physical alignment of my detination's path that will finally lead to levitation.
though i know what it will feel like now.
i couldn't be more anticipatory.

the corner pieces were all put in place, and the border, and every fucking missing piece that i failed to see disappear fell into place when she (you) didn't have to knock to gain entry.
it's as simple as that. puzzle == long finished.
it's what the puzzle looks like that won't be revealed until my body is light enough to lift off [without force > G].
this lens on my eye. especially my left. reminds me.
that out is not the only direction the eyes are meant to peer.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

i overheard a conversation of my colleagues today.
they were speaking about money.
and it made me vomit into my neighbor's sweatshirt hood.
i apologized immediately. how could i have done that to somebody?
disgusting! i mean, it's just money, right?
and didn't i tell you?
gravitational physics makes the world go round.
so what is the big fucking deal?
when my words equal my fire, i'll poke it in white-hot fury and spell the answer to you in sparks on my skin.
then you'll really understand why i could have possibly done that to my poor, unsuspecting neighbor.

back to ritualistic occupation of this idea of time we've smashed into our psyches.

from ohio

2006-11-10T12:56:00.000-05:00

what is the url:// to your blog again?

all i know about ohio:
one should not drive to cincinnatti, oh from ithaca, ny in early april.
dennis kucinich.
toni morrison.
neil armstrong.
buckeyes.
symmetry.

i heard you the first time

2006-11-10T12:25:00.000-05:00

maybe the night doesn't decide my day
maybe the day should show itself independent of the stars that preceeded.

i've been asked to speak about windows.
i am in a cubicle now. with windows. on the cubicle. which only display to me
more cubicles.
i understand the notion of false walls for space and economics
but surely i cannot condone the use of glass for it's misuse.
viewing is a priveledge reserved for trees sunshine clouds and birds.
maybe i have no ideas to counter their reason
but i'd like to think i do.

fuck it. who drew these lines with a ruler, anyhow? when i think about my day-
pure predetermination. how much of my day has nothing to say.
because it's planned. it's written in black dripping ink that soaked pages too long ago to wipe clean. right? we'll continue the right angles, the straight lines, the grey/tan/coffee stained walls by habit, no?
chaos would ensue if we had space to run. many would have forgotten by now that their legs are what carry them through their day. maybe mechanism is genius, but methodical uses of it piss me off daily.

refrain. do not take these words with gin, i don't look before i speak.
i may even be one who criticizes everything i can touch with my middle finger.
i may be bullshitting. calling a bluff. i just want a rise. i want something to spark my truth.
i generally think that my attacks are valid, though.
but how am i an authority? why do i feel that my opinions reign? we all do, do we not?
but fuck your opinions. you haven't believed a word of them, you just prefer your voice aloud to those echoing in your head. write it down. read it. aloud. read it aloud again. if it does not produce satan in your eyes and Fu Manchu on your lips, try again. you're dispassionate. you don't feel it. says i who may not turn my nose at sulfuric acid.
all i ask for is participation. in thought. belief. life. negative positive interaction pain love strength weakness and truth. just think about something. and tell me about it. and sit back and wait for my response.

i know what you are thinking now. you know today is an off day.
you know that today is a day where words exist only above the clouds.
and you know that i am afraid of flying [this can only mean one thing].

i apologize. but sometimes i like to force the dictionary to form phrases.

2006-11-09T12:41:00.000-05:00

if you slow your eyes down
if you just stop to look
you can see the fluidity of everything
matter
space
time
love
i feel a white fog around my head, draping my eyes in mist so that i see purely.
so purely.
but not so clear that i can make out what the purity is.
you see, sometimes i feel what i know before i see it.
do you know that feeling?
i want you to take my voice like delilah right now, on cool 99.9, ever so soft and singingly,
not the raucous busting voice of somebody with conviction of opinion that may be slightly unfounded, as you may have been speaking to yourself as me
push down the levers and pull the red handle, they told me.
that's how you'll count as person #124,333,432. here's your sticker.
did you know what you wanted for yourself? or your children? or was that sticker too slick to pass up?
i wonder if i could run for office. i would have one agenda. i'm sure you can guess it and it's not your first notion. you'd have to read back a little. maybe to april 2006. take the hot out and inject stability, and your answer will appear.
symmetry is baffling. baffling. why cannot a classroom of ten year olds have desks that are not in straight rows? why cannot the kids just ... move the desks where they can see best? where they feel empowered, connected, and comfortable (though they would name this 'where my friends are'). one thing i love about children is that they utilize their energy in every step they take. they express themselves. they lay it all out there, radiating with last night's forgotten anger and today's overwhelming love. sometimes, they'll talk so fast, they'll begin to break a sweat. i love it. they'll talk so fast because all of those words and pictures and ideas and questions flying around their head are running full on into the side of their brain, asking to get out. and they are children. so they listen. we. we do not. we feel it. but not with magnitude. because we've spent so many hardworking years building up the white mattress to pad it. the mattress of fucking bullshit context and fear. once again. always back to fear.
i cannot type lately with the same speed and unthinkingness that i have always been able to. i am conscious of my fingers right now, something i've never had while writing, and it makes me wonder if they are not ready to let what they have stored for me out. not done analyzing. processing. looking for more evidence, one moment of empirical truth that can be embodied by the english language. goddamn english language. it's funny how angry it makes me. because, well, true anger cannot come from something that cannot place blame. that cannot be fixed. so i'll laugh. and just pretend that the asshole who invented a language with absolutely no logic involved had his feet chopped off by a train.
when you're on a subway, and you're moving in a straight line. why do you rock back and forth? the wheels have to compensate for the turning of the tracks, so each wheel has a short side and a long side. while travelling straight, the wheels essentially rock back and forth.
what do you think about radicalism? does it exist? or is it just the word that describes anything that is apathetic? i don't believe in radicalism. i believe in beliefs.
maybe someday in this space i'll let you know all of them. i'll rant and rave until my water is used and i'm ready for a beer. but when i do, don't touch the screen. and please, lord in heaven, do not believe a word that i write.

it's only logical

2006-10-09T14:23:00.000-04:00

i should write a blog right now
because i feel it
i hear it in my head
but i can't
because i'm afraid of what i will read tomorrow

i'll sign off now and do something mundane

deep breath

2006-10-04T19:14:00.000-04:00

i know now. i figured it out today. it hit me so violently that i think i may have screamed out loud...in the middle of class.

i have a reason to smile every second i am awake.
everything that attempts to bring me down outside of that,
well,
is of no comparison.
the reason to smile is always more powerful.

____________________________________

what a silly thought to think otherwise.

2006-09-28T17:34:00.000-04:00

baby right now poetry just wouldnt do me justice
all of the rhyming and forced syllables contain too many lines
not to cross--don't venture too far into truth in such a public space
they might start to know you
this is where bullshit comes in
bullshit

know me through words you say you think you do and i say fuck you
words don't do it you have to see me write them
you have to feel me know them
because i can word what i want but you can't see the flushed cheeks that reveal my bluff
which is the ease we feel
the absolute safety we find in pens and pencils
the beauty, we say, of the written word

but call that fucking bluff. tell them.
tell me.
to tell you in person what i said just moments ago on this white pixelated piece of shit
i'll tell you nothing
not the word, asshole,
i'll not say a word because tongues are held faster and stronger by fear that comes from the cloud surrounding our souls than it does through will

if only we had a physical means of whisping that cloud away
changing that weather
and being honest
for more than one defining shining moment.
we create ideas within us to justify what we are feeling
because we can not expose to others those true feelings
yeah. you're right. words do exist to describe anything. it's their lack of use where humanity fails the vice.

don't tell me differently. i know you know that we are thwarted by this teeth to tongue trick that we were taught- age three- when we wanted to speak out against our unjust mother. should me-as three-not correct her? after all, my lenz is so hideously different from hers. she doesn't see that my fuse is shortening, my innocence running, my trust in what i believe, my ability to communicate- is only crushed by her rules. and that fucking continues. by and by. until now. when we are free from others but so ruled by our own fear. so goddamn ruled.

maybe i want to say something. maybe i want to but don't for fear of ill response. or lack of agreement which makes me cry now- and would then, too. that idea is so frightful that it makes me cry now- what would my stomach feel should it be realized in the realm of what we deem real life? now that's how hearts race. feel it? i figured you wouldn't...or am i just pissing you off?

maybe you sense anger- wonderful. because i feel it. since 18 hours ago. that's a long time to hold a grudge that has no definition nor reason nor validity. time for correction.

i didn't want to listen to my music this morning

2006-09-06T11:10:00.000-04:00

minus one day for the following

i wanted to hear your words bouncing around in my head
i think that each time on hit a boundary, i cringed a bit--
maybe minds aren't meant for collision after all. you had me thinking...

jolted awake last night with thoughts all to familiar, all too conceivable.
i sit today. less settled. sit today too far from my setting.
we have it all wrong, we self-rightous collective
we are finite for a reason.
we are given enough time to attain. to reach. to see. everything.
but we are underallowed the opportunity.
i envision a lake
and a simple cabin
maybe our science will marvel at a gas stove and a music player [for special occasions only as my music will have been created in my own mind in this space]
i envision wild literature for entertainment
and grounding memoirs of spirituality
pouring out onto the floor from the small wooden bookcase
i see trees
so many tress
and life
so much life
running and jumping and exchanging sharp glances as far as my eyes two can reach
i sit.
i close my eyes. i smell the pine. maybe maple syrup, too.
i begin to escape. my self leaves my seated being and i begin to wander and discover and see
my mind consumes all else but my fingertips, in which i feel small tingles to remind me of my hands, such powerful tools.
i'm not smiling just yet, because expressions seem warrantless when lost in thought.
and you are there.
and you sit next to me.
and i return. and smile. and smile. open my eyes to see yours. and i know. that you know. you've been where i recently explored. and i want to tell you what i saw this time. though i know it's unnecessary. i can't stop talking to you in this moment. i am still smiling. and we are more the powerful fabric connecting us two than each our own body in this moment.
and we have time. we have any time we care to create and manipulate and mold into our own.
and when we feel our mold can be broken, in our own way, when our clocks say it should be so,
we go out into this world.
we use our power.
we spread our energy.
we have bottled up everything we've devoted our sould to and we give it so freely. with so much conviction for giving, passersby may believe we are wealthy.
we force genuine smiles of those who had forgotten how to create expression upon their face.
we do not scoff at failure.
we do all that we can--
shining, radiating, glowing with everything that we have.
modulated. modulation.
and in this way
in our own time
we save lives.
we save souls.
we spark beauty that may never otherwise have been undressed
we show children. that laughter. is the purest beauty to be had.
and that love. and touch. and acceptance. are life.
and in this way, in our lives, we save the world.
and in this way, we have a purpose.
and in every way that we exist, every place that we travel, every moment that we are.
we have a purpose.
_______________________________________

i know what you are thinking.
that this is not the purpose you spoke of.
that the purpse afore described is simply a ploy to eliminate immediate suffering
so why the suffering
that the purpose afore described may save us all, but for what?
for whom?
if our whole lives must be each dedicated to erradicating evils that be...
why do we not end it all? would not the people of the world be happier, less tortured, if to not exist in the first place?
sure.
but not for us, now.
not for them, someday.
we are on a journey. though some that we may save will never know the journey of which they are nomads, we do.
i know. i know. we will see our destination. because i feel it. and i know. and right now the tears in my eyes which have nothing to do with sadness nor joy are telling me that i. am. not.
alone.
not alone.
in this.
why would i so be teased and tested so if not to one day use the strength gained? all experiences must be one day converted to applied knowledge. including this one. this life. this day.
to see that understanding is conceivable is enough for me to know that one day.
i will.
we will.
you feel it everyday.
i feel it everyday.
since day one. however qualitative the number one can exist is how it is meant in this statement.
i know that it is real. i know that we, collectively, have a purpose that so goes beyong this physical hell and realm of emperical descriptors that even space cannot fathom its form.
a light. a light does not shine if not to be seen. if not to guide. today i felt everyone that i passed by foot. i felt their sadness. i felt some indifference in their soul. in her soul. and yeah. it made me ask myself why, instead of feeding of of that and stopping to give to her some better day, why am i going to class to learn something of no use to me? well, for one, i wrote this, and maybe lack of stimulation was needed for me to have the opportunity to get some of these things on paper. but the day. the class. the everything. is necessary right now. i'll get where i am going, i know that, otherwise i would be going nowhere. a must precede b, and that is how i must justify.
_____________________
but goddammit. godfuckingdammit. i don't want to justify. i don't fucking want to go through the situational motions that will allow me to one day be how i am meant to be. right now. right now. i want to be with you. i want to touch forehead to forehead and exchange silently any piece of anger and frustration that we both have at this given moment until it is gone. so that all that is left for us is positive energy and beauty and without scheduling and appointments and their timeline we could exist in that way until we are ready to leave it. and that is when i see that cabin.
by the lake.
and life.
and this whole story seems to look up once again and i am beginning to accept it once again and i see why i am here right this moment and why here is a part of the grand journey to understanding.
but now.
now.
i remember
that i see that cabin and that lake and you next to me, readying our souls for the world to save, and i remember. i remember that it is an illusion. and i am not there but in this picture.
an illusion.
and i want it to be real.
and my temperature begins to rise again.
and my anger returns.
because i am afraid, as i have said in many words before.
that that illusion will never come into fruition.
because that illusion exists in tomorrow.
and i am afraid of tomorrow.
i am always afraid of tomorrow.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh

2006-09-01T13:22:00.000-04:00

can't function right now. maybe it's the absence of order, maybe it's the absence of pure chaos, and i've never been here before. where everything is in perfect rhyme and reason and falls so into place that i feel no pockets of air trying to fill the space between me and myself but can find absolutely no time to embrace it. that's a blatant, flagrant lie. i just can't find enough. i want more. i crave more. and i think this appatite is consuming me. it's not allowing me to do the everyday everything. the bullshit that we create to fill an empty life. create. fabricate. jesus christ we have it in us, already, people! we have to create nothing! we need to utilize that which was created for us, in us, that hungry ready and waiting life that many let die before allowing its birth. i want to find that island that isolated escape where wind whistles and sun dances and hers is the only voice that crowds my mind. that place where books are fun and games are dangerous and smiles are unafraid to show themselves when warranted. i want these doors to fly open and these walls to collapse collapse around me opening up my world for me. and every me who yearns to be free. i am set free. i have been set free. but feel, sitting here, in this tan/beige/colorless cubicle that these walls are surely not meant for inclement weather protection. but for confinement. for repression of imagination. so that when i leave, i go home, i get in the car, things start looking up.
i abhor the idea that we must create evil to see good. we must start below so that the rise is all the more majestic. everything can be majestic. each of us can live this way. with every moment catapulting us to a new realm of understanding of ourselves as one body and our lives as one story.
.........

i am afraid. this is what i am telling you. i am afraid that tomorrow will not come and i will have left too much unsaid too much underexamined too few brought above. and i should not fear for that is contrary to the idea of living now. but how do i live in each now if not in fear of the next now robbed? i struggle. i struggle with the idea of now. and that right now. right. now. i am speaking too much of now and tomorrow and what may have been yesterday and i am forgetting that now that just past and the now of this moment. i must be a better teacher to my mind. i must teach it to feel each given moment and gain. gain from each all that i can. so much is surrounding me right now. in this room. wherever i wander. and i fear that i neglect it. that goddamn third eye blind. i must open.
..........

on the topic of fear. it should not exist.
..........

but it does! why must we build castles couple with moats and white knights around our souls? why is it so foreign to let the only one who truly belongs inside, in? not foreign, for foreign implies misunderstanding, mistrust and unknowing, and surely this is furthest from any Truth. but for me. i did not forsee the princess feeling the pea so early in the night. so i slept. soundly. and now must awake! allow! accept! thank the keeper that no longer does my soul have to search. it can rest and thrive and be. just. be. i become bitter often that i have capabilities. that i am capable of being. because i can't. we are not allowed just yet. to be. you said it last night and i fully agreed but i argued the counter purposefully. i wonder if you know that. i feel honest. and that's new, too. i am perhaps afraid of that, as well. suddenly my clothes have been burned and my skeleton radiated and i cannot be who i have created for everybody else. perhaps i fear that. but i know. that it is the most positive fear that may exist. perhaps i will embrace it and i will allow it to spill out to others and i will, for once and for all, be. who i am to be. for humankind. perhaps you are my gateway not only unto myself but for the world. perhaps this fear is fleeting for the greatness that will come of this portal you have exposed for me will slingshot my dreams onto my doorstep. and for that i have too many words. for you i have too many words. and as per usual,
i will end here because from here
words are not essential
for understanding
anything further.

some day == today

2006-08-18T22:37:00.000-04:00

'Some day I'll speak of the past - not the future - as something unfathomable. '

i know now.
i know that i was right.
all the pain.
all the turmoil.
the up late can't sleep searching
inside rather than out for the answer.
from day one.
wasn't in vain.
the air never did tell me lies.
i knew that.
but i could never have
believed it.

until now.

they told me i was crazy. i told me i was crazy. for thinking up here. instead of down there, where all seems well and sound. i'll tell them now. find the key. unlock the door. and find yourself in another. we are all meant for connection.
we are all connection.
see it. believe in it.
those prickles on the back of your neck are surely not from the air- there is no breeze. find out what it is. experience feeling overpower sensical reason. and don't think it's crazy. unless the definition of crazy is this.

i do not believe that once we are up- up as far as we've ever imagined- we must go down, for there is no alternative. up never ceases. up is determined by our will our beauty our strength our desire to explore and find and discover and never plateau.
i never.
want to plateau.
i never.
want to say that there is no more.
there is always more.
there will always be more.

____________________________________________________

i feel the need for short words today. short ideas. broken, even. maybe because this consciousness that i am riding on has too much to say in one sitting for an early night. so i'll pick and choose at random and hope to strike a chord with my mind. i like to think of my hand reaching out in any direction, closing over mystery, and opening to show me what i am thinking. in that place. that is no place at all. where my hand ventured with no guidance. it's amazing what i don't know that i'm thinking about it until i allow myself focus. i believe that one day, in life or death, i'll explore it all. there seems no reason to think and know if not to discover it for myself. i am not such a diligent student to complete assignment as surplus. i want to learn from me. i want to know what i'm thinking.

and i know.
right now.
that much of what i know
but have yet to discover
will be found.
in you.

foot poem as per request

2006-08-03T02:36:00.000-04:00

these feet are for walking
for walking all over me
but wait
i say
that's impossible!
how is it that my own feet tread on my own body
i am no gymnast, let me tell you

who says these feet are mine, however?
mine? no. yours, surely.
tread. tread. tread. the feet they don't bother
it's the principle that makes me sick
fucking sick

keep walking
and i'll turn to coal
hot coal
but i'm far from the truth, you know,
i could never burn the soles of yours
because the soles of yours are your
fucking vehicle
and the souls of yours couldn't possibly burn.

you get the picture.

----------------------

it's funny. i sit. i wait. i know that my topic is given on this purple
sheet fluttering in the fan behind my head but somehow i must make feet
turn to self
everything
to self
cannot just be feet, now can they? because what a fucking metaphorical trick! it would be
to use feet as feet and not as tools. fucking tools. to bear down to capture. to see inside.
always looking inside. inside. ah. maybe they are just feet. maybe they are tired. maybe i'll let you put them up for the night and won't comment on your laziness. maybe i'll paint those bland fucking toenails so that when you look down, you think of me. every time. i like metallic pink for a starter. put your feet up. i'll let you stay awhile. but i won't move. i won't ask you leave. or stay. i'll just sit there. and offer to paint.

where am i

2006-08-01T01:27:00.000-04:00

or what? down? out? weak? tired?
or fucking energized anxious seeking and scared?
i can't tell right now. i can't tell much of anything. i can't sleep anymore, i know that.
but this is nothing new in my life, so maybe i shouldn't take note. but wait! always take note! always see things for what they are, which is usually that which we overlook. if i could only turn my eyes to everything standing clearly i would lose this torment. sole possibility, of course. though it's worth a try. if i stop goddamn trying so hard to see things. to hear things. to know things about me. and you. and all of us. maybe they'd be there presenting to me everything i question. maybe that's how the game works. if i look, i overlook. if i don't, i will never see. i have yet to find the balance, fill the void, stop the anger. stop the anger. why does it feel so satisfying to have pain? to know we are alive? to know we breathe and laugh and work for a reason? to remind us that things are always up if the direction down exists? i know i do it for those reasons. amongst others. and maybe one day. one bright, rainy, warm day. i'll look up to the sky and know that's the reason that i'm here. to see the sky. and to believe in something. to believe in someone. but for now. constant testing. to remind myself. i am alive! i can feel! and it is not always as bad as, well, it could be! maybe it's an excuse. i know that most things i do serve some sort of excuse. for myself. my lack. my lack of truth that i present to the world. my lack of confidence in my self. my. self. why? why must it always come back to us? how fucking selfish are we wired to be? or is that just another one of my shortcomings? and your shortcomings? or maybe a gift, this self-reflection. maybe a true gift. i know somewhere in here. in here. that i know others through knowing myself. and i like it. yeah. simple words today. saying it straight today. or forward if you prefer the word. contextual, isn't it? life, that is. smiles, that is. words, that is. i'm here. i'm healthy. i have fun. enough. enough. enough. not enough. not ever fucking enough. until the day i believe that first cadence i will believe the latter. the fucking latter. because. for me. now. there is not enough. and i know it's waiting. i just don't know how line this line i'm standing in stretches. it turns the corner down on 3rd street. maybe it ends there. maybe it bends again. i will see. but until then. never enough. never there. there. there. if you find it, let me know what it's like. i enjoy mental pictures for future comparison. good luck. good day. goodnight.

no sleep so

2006-07-27T05:24:00.000-04:00

can't sleep so let's forget about it, why try
when instead we can be leaping over the candlestick
and following that yellow brick road
mine isn't made of gold, however, it's constructed with stars
only the brightest of the lot,
the shooting power of six million smith and wessons

i want a young boy in delhi to see me fly across that sky on my rocketship
and point to his friends, and smile
maybe the first smile he's known in three days
yeah. i want to do that.
but wait. imagine that smile turn into sheer laughter and joy if another
flew by right beside mine.
two, right in a row? can you believe it? what are the chances? he'd shout.

that rocketship will expire, however, and then where will we be?
maybe floating, flipping, moonwalking all day
maybe hurling back down to Earth to see where, and how, we left it
just a check-up, really, until the next stars arrive at our station-
when that boy hasn't smiled in too many moons, we'll give him no other option

if our yellow brick road doesn't show us the way
i think we'll take a new-hued route
we'll run and we'll jump as far as we can, leaving streaks of colors
to which they'll yell 'rainbow!' when we finish
only to start anew
we'll make 30, 40, 50 a day! hawaii won't be the only destination
cut out for magic on this adventure
we'll leap through nebraska and fairbanks and rome.
maybe we'll connect the dots, leaving bright, doubted archs
in six countries at once.
and when we tire, and need a rest, or a drink, we'll sit on
that lakeside swing, the one that sways loudly in time,
watching our rainbows,
waiting for our stars.

and we'll create. something new. if ever we believe that our work is done.

i wish you could see into my mind

2006-07-20T19:05:00.000-04:00

i wish you could see into my mind

so i wouldn't have to show it to you
i wish that i never had to speak a word
to make you realize that it's you
that makes me smile
everytime i smile

you that i laugh at when another tells a joke
you i hug when it's her
you i talk about when i rave about time well spent

but i'll never use your name
i'll never give it away
because i'm scared
as scared as the word allows in itself

i fear that i'm wrong
that i'll change my heart after i tell my story
that you'll disagree with every notion
that the connection that i feel
that i know
will be broken and i can live no longer with the idea of us
nor on the false string i've tied between us
i've learned how to walk the tightrope
would you meet me in the middle?
of course not.
life would not be so forgiving
so kind
so i'll keep my smiles for you, and
i'll give them to everyone, but with your name silently attached
but will never speak of it
to you
to them
or to myself

things i have learned in the last three weeks.

2006-07-14T01:57:00.000-04:00

trees can change a life.
water is supposed to be clear.
love is supposed to find me.
although one may possess everything beautiful in life, everything perfect in love, i may not be required to love them.
a pen does the heart's work too many times.
a heart should do the heart's work.
a conversation is worthwhile only when both parties believe the other is learning from their anecdotes.
family is supposed to be accepted, regardess of friendship.
i tread on sidewalks that i am forbidden to walk upon.
i believe in children more than love itself. and i believe in love. more than anything.
each day is a lesson learned from the previous days' lessons taught. respect that, it's told me.
fresh air is not a right. it's a priveledge.
tolerance of those who frustrate is necessary. those who frustrate are not worth a broken hand and a hole in the wall.
granola is good shit. with blueberries.
blueberries are fucking good in oregon.
i can learn from those younger than me. i can love those younger than me. i shouldn't judge them.
so much is to be done. but i am right where i need to be, so that one day...i can do what is to be done. i can fulfill my dreams. i can love with open arms and no regrets, and i can teach the world what i have set out but have yet to learn.

quick question

2006-06-23T18:36:00.000-04:00

is anxiety a feeling? or an effect of feelings?

white america

2006-06-23T02:39:00.000-04:00

is intimidating.
is happy.
is daunting.
is staggering.
is so culturally backwards it makes me want to vomit.

i went to the rodeo tonight. for the second time in a week. i mean, i was raised in white america, i grew up watching NASCAR and golf and fishing specials. why did i feel so fucking out of place? well. i know this answer. but do you? can you picture me there? in my cowboy hat, wranglers and boots, doing my best to fit in, look like them, walk like them, tip my hat like them. shit. i even start to talk like them an hour into the show. i stand for the star spangled banner sung by laura lee anderson from sparks, nevada. i bow my head with the rest of them in prayer for the cowboy whose life was cut short by a texas longhorn run amuck. so why? why can i feel their eyes? why can i feel their judgement? i feel like nobody's smile or curteous ma'am is genuine. is it my color? no. my hair? no. lots of cowgirls wear their hair short. my sexuality? no. they don't think in those terms. in that setting. me with a pretty family and all.

it's the energy. the fucking energy. the second that car parked and i stepped out onto the soft dirt, ready to watch a show the same as everyone else, i felt it. in my heart. in my stomach. goosebumps. man. my soul knows too much sometimes. isn't empirical experience good for anything anymore? haha. my soul reads too closely. sees too accurately. sometimes i wish it didn't. sometimes i wish that i could just go to that rodeo. and not feel white america's big blue eye calling me out in the form of bad energy. i'd almost rather somebody yell dyke! so i could at least right the wrong. and defend myself. if i know i'm walking in a see full of fish i can't speak to- or know- or attempt to know... am i in the wrong sea? or should i seek out that fellow straggler?

i know it's safe. keeping with the people i feel comfortable around. in the cities and towns and places where the positive overcomes all else in the world. where i feel that internal smile. that smile so big that others catch on, and they smile, too. that fucking infectious energy that i know exists around me. and in me. and in others i surround myself with. but who, then? who? am i helping? saving? reaching out for? is it my duty? is that why i feel it all of the time? is that why i am wholly incapable of walking through life as it's put in front of me why i cannot cannot stomach indifference why i look into others' eyes searching not for answers but questions?

i don't know. but for now. i am sad. sad that the little children i saw tonight in boots and chaps and cowboy hats will never know what is out there unless they have that secret out of their soul. unless they discover it themselves. because there. in hayfield wyoming and elks utah and wikieup arizona, nobody will open that windowshade for them. they will never have a map to discovery. their children. and their children. and their children. are the only hope. that one day this beautiful country. will not fill twenty thousand seats. with uncomfortable souls.

a bit

2006-06-19T02:57:00.000-04:00

it's been a bit since we've last met in this space, though i fear not.
we have not lost touch.
and that is what makes me believe. is what keeps me going. is what makes me revisit this pastime without need to tell all.

the one thing i can tell, though,
is that the rocky mountains are where god would live if she wanted to try out our planet for a few years. it was written everywhere

bittersweet

2006-05-27T02:02:00.000-04:00

these goodbyes.

can YOU hear it?

2006-05-26T20:00:00.000-04:00

what i am trying to say to you?
they haven't created words yet to say it, but i'm trying to invent them in the midst of this
it's not as easy as you would imagine. most are taken and misused and misplaced and thrown around as if they were created to be used as such.

hmm. so much to say sitting by myself wondering: if i were a different person... the one i imagine myself to be... would i be happier? better? smarter, kinder, faster? no. well, maybe. but the things that i would never give up would be gone, i am sure of it. we all give. we all take. that's the beauty of the balance that we live in. you are kind so that i may show you to be so. i am thoughtful because another thinks little. it's perfect. so perfect. only so much to go around, to give, to impress upon, in this world, and somehow, we give enough to some that they show us true beauty, they show us who we wish to be, they show us the us we would like to become. it's that energy, that goal, that drive, that makes the world go. and allows us to always know- that what we are doing, who we are helping, what we see- is never enough.

i wonder, as do you, i suppose. about many things. but today- families. would i be more successful now if my successes in earlier times were noticed? i claim to have done it all for myself but i doubt that now. everything. everything. was a ploy. a way. to get in there. to be loved a little bit more to be appreciated a little bit more to show them that i could that if i could anyone could and it was all for me me me. no it wasnt. it was for them. maybe for the greater them. i don't know what it was for. but i know it plays a part in the me now that says enough enough enough. because i am doing it for only me now. and. well.

i don't have to prove myself to me. i know what i am capable of. will i ever show them?

thai time.
shukran wa salam.

more later. tip of today's world.

birds

2006-05-15T18:24:00.000-04:00

i can hear it now/i never knew what it was until five minutes ago/the rain/the pouring rain/god's fingers ferociously typing away at this keyboard we call earth/directing us where she wants us to go/program without end/she must have been tired last summer/wanted to give us a break/let us choose our own path for a brief while/she's back at it though/back at it this time with purpose/it explains the lethargy/the tired/the reused underused overfucking used that i see in every eye i catch/the burnt the fuck out/the nothing else matters but sleep right now/we are being recharged/renewed/it's draining at first but at first glimpse of that sunlight, our rejuvenator, our charger, improvements will surface/our little lives will become bigger our faces turned upward and corners of our mouths pointing North screaming THANK YOU for this THANK YOU for me/when we have exausted all that we have left those fingers will attack again the rivers grow the faces lose that passion and hearts turn to anger yet again/if, however, god should not type as she does, work like she does, to change us/to change this earth/we would never see the energy reappear/we would forget/i never want to forget/that energy/that beauty that i sense without sensation when i feel that sunrise on a wednesday morning and know that the birds will not seek refuge today/they will soar, dive, live as best they know/no more suffering/no more suffering/in that instant that we all turn our faces to the sun

are you out there, can you hear me?

2006-05-03T23:21:00.000-04:00

if you can...let me know.
it's nice to know that you see it, too.
whatever it is ...

missing in action

2006-05-03T23:14:00.000-04:00

a computer screen
screaming at me here, sitting, staring, engulfed
has won my life, and yours, too

but there's one thing we all have that they can't.
photos. memories. lives. life. living anything that moves walks breathes feels.
we treat them better than the person sitting next to us on the bus (because, well, we don't know that guy). we hail them as if everything we are is contained on that white orange blue and green screaming screen when really, nothing. is there. nothing. it is light. mixed around and moved quickly so quickly that my cannon can't capture it's moments.
maybe this is just for me. so that i can remind myself. that i'm here for you. and the trees. and my cat. and our interaction. and your smile and your eyes those glass balls placed strategically to appear as ovals. tricky bastards. yeah. not for the tv. or this goddamn phone. or this computer that will soon die and take all of me that i thought was contained within with it.
digitization, my friends, is NOT the answer to our problems. WE are.

back to eyes

2006-05-02T21:57:00.000-04:00

some say that a soul can't exist in a photo
i think it can

when i stare you down from behind
you know i am watching

when i glance and turn away a second too late
i know you know. you know i know.

when you tell that lie. straight face and all.
your eyes are blushing.

when those tears are waiting for me to leave.
i see them in wait.

i truly believe that eyes are the window to truth.

watch your step

2006-05-01T21:59:00.000-04:00

you might fall
walking that way
you don't lift your feet
you're dragging your heels
i can hear the soles of your shoes from here
scraping along at a turtle's pace

pick it up. stick that chin into the air and declare!
it's a good day! a smiling day! a boot-kicking, trouble-sifting, soul-lifting happy day! get some skip in your step, some jive in your lip, let it all roll.
like fred told us in '98, keep rollin' rollin' rollin' rollin'.
if you stop now, you'll never know
how beautiful this hiphophappy day can be!

___________________________________

really now. on my knees to the good sandman asking him to stay away. sleeping as i'm walking as i'm talking right now. thought maybe a quick adventure in the school of upbeat internal diologue might turn it around for me, but alas! i have faltered.

blind in one eye

2006-05-01T11:18:00.000-04:00

we are all blind in one eye.
for most, however, this is not a physical fact, but a subconscious choice.
how can a choice be subconscious? you ask me
i suppose i'll throw you now into the loophole i've created for this problem.
it's retroactive. each of us with a mind, a heart, a will that is good discover this blind eye at least once in our lives. we realize, we guilt, we wonder, we hate ourselves because of it. we see it not with the other eye, which would be a feat among feats, i'm sure you can imagine, but with our emotion. we realize that we have turned off that part of us that really and truly and desperately cares.

that eye we don't look through sees the pain of those we have never encountered. the poor man endlessly and unsuccessfully ASKING with no pride left to hold on to to PLEASE allow him to work so that he can feed his children. this eye sees him turned away, defeated, degraded, time. after time. after time.

this eye i speak of sees the mother of three living in a shelter because yes. her boyfriend thought of her body. as something. to own. and their bodies. as something. to own.

it sees en masse children of a darker skin than mine with bellies too big and arms too small to seem real. their smiles when somebody hands them a piece of candy. their tears when nobody can help them when they hurt.

it sees children with a lighter skin than mine in the same situation. across a sea, a desert, a world apart. they are not a world apart.

this eye sees a fourteen-year old boy from chicago who can't seem to face the world today. it's sunny and 75 but he's locked himself in the room that he thinks of as his only safe place. nobody has noticed the burns on his arms. he's never let anybody see him cry. but this eye that we've blinded sees it. it. that eye. always sees him cry.

it sees the twenty-something tranny woman who can't go on one. more. goddamn. day. because her boss refuses. to recognize her. as her. her family refuses. REFUSES. to see her. as HER. it sees her run away. kill the pain. kill the pain everyday. but she is still cold. she is still lonely.

the eye we've turned off. sees everything. that we would rather it not. and when we notice that we have it. we see through it for the first time. and feel what it feels every day. ...
we want to help. change. act. activate. voice. yell. shout. scream. be heard. help those that our eye catches be heard. we want to cry for them hold them feel them need them. we know that we can help. someway. somehow. though it will never be enough. so we make a plan we rise up in our idea of ourselves for the bettering of lives of others. we are ready. solid. firm in our beliefs. we've seen through that eye. and we won't take it anymore.

we cry ourselves to sleep thinking about what we've seen...
we close our eyes...
and in the morning. that eye.
is blind again.

blind.

listen to me

2006-04-28T00:18:00.000-04:00

this is a message to me
from me

listen. you know better. you know yourself too well. too well for this. what are you doing? where the fuck do you think you are going? get back here. and listen to me. stop looking away and quit pretending i don't know you best. because i do. i also know the rules all too well. i can't possibly be wrong, and you know that...we've been here before. so just fucking listen already.

don't play that game. get out of this confining hellhole now and start running. hike up those pantlegs and tie your shoelaces, it's going to be a long run. watch out for puddles, they're everywhere. but don't stop, please, just keep going. and no, i cannot tell you the point of arrival, your final destination. you'll know when you get there. write me when you do, i'll be thinking of you.

i know you can do it. but you must commit. never let up. call me to check in at least every other day. don't forget, this is for you. and everyfuckingbodyelse.

love,
me

gnikaeps sdrawkcab

2006-04-25T21:28:00.000-04:00

can't seem to just spit it all out and lay it all out on the table, can we? first, as the guide tells us, we must mix things up in our own minds. let it settle. go back and confuse the hell out of it one more time, repeat repeat now repeat that step. slowly sift through the overexamined everything and begin to understand something. then one more thing. and another. suddenly, and with a jolt of heart-piercing truth, we discover what it is that we believe. and feel. and know. and it begins to hurt. ache. and save, consume, wrap itself around us until we are decapacitated in every other light. but we let it and we love it and we know it and we hate it and we feel it and we wish it away but could never will it away. now it's that resting point when all-encompassed by this thing describes us best. let it sit. mingle. then decide. what to do with it? make it go away? impossible? catalyze a session of soul-bearing truth? we all know that's ne'er impossible in this place. with these interactions we force ourselves into. what if we did? bear all. tell all. transparent exposure is the advice we all receive. but what if it backfires and a body mangled in hate and despair is all that survives the crash? if there's a possibility, it's too risky to try. so we sit with this hurt and anger and mistrust and we know only ourselves and others know only themselves but only half because the other half if the us that reveals the known half to all. that extrovert waiting to be discovered. that honesty that creates a new soul. who knows? i don't. clearly. my advice is never that which i follow. my head is never on course with that beating thing that matters more. so i'll sit here and type at this overused keyboard and i'll wonder where to go next and i'll never find the answer but i'll pretend that i have it all figured out tomorrow. and the next day. and when you ask me, i won't tell, see above, i'll deny and i'll lie and i'll curse myself for it at the end of the day. but i will do one thing. protect this shell and protect the me that i present to you. and maybe that's enough to contain the throbbing pain. we'll see.

tell me what my hands were made for

2006-04-25T00:23:00.000-04:00

listening too much to too much
two is never too many
because one is never quite enough
that's what they tell us anyhow

listening to the rhythms packed into small
pieces of metal pushed into our brains every morning
as we leave for that bus that's never on time
forcing ourselves to understand that beating thing
in our chest incessantly urging us on into this day
through them who teach us
us

when will we learn to write our own lyrics to our own lives?
tomorrow is too late sit down now and write yourself a line
and then two or three just go til your hand hurts
then set it to that music playing in your prettyboy brain
that jangling jingle that hasn't left you since age five
make it useful put words to it and tell me your new story
i'm tired of the old

not through their words but yours because quotations and
life through them in words of others
confuses me to an entropic state of nothing you can imagine
because imagining beyond images is too much to ask these days, is it not?

[tell me i'm what your mouth was made for.]

i guess sometimes they just say it best.
keep it playing back in your mind until you make theirs yours.
then you don't have to make your own. it's become so in due time.

...

2006-04-20T00:02:00.000-04:00

title says it all they say
i believe it today
___________

[listen to them you always have]
always will with those fresh eyes you claim to see through
i see through those eyes, though, see right through you
wish you knew how far i can look inside of you how much i know you
more than you know
you've never asked yourself why
what
where
who
i've asked your eyes those things
and i know the answers
not from those eyes or even from what's behind
but because of what i feel when i look through them
because when i look through them
all i see is myself
and i know me
[as well as you know you]

tell me truthfully
do you see you when you look into me?
i hope you do, because i feel you. i think you're up there. making my every move.
outdoing me with every step overtaking my determined path to throw me onto yours.
i don't seem to mind, however, as you may well see right now as i call you out.
knock on my door and see you answer. i'll turn my blinder on. pretend i don't know. i'll let you stay. for days. months. years? why, if you like, my dear.
you've already taken over my body my soul why not take permanent residence? i can see no reason why not my strength is tapped my will is yours will it please you will it make you smile? if yes, yes. if no? how? can i get you a cup of tea? are you warm up there? in here? in my mind? my heart? my everything? how can i make you more comfortable? oh. oh. i know! ...
...
i'll gut myself. i'll purge. i'll binge on the love you once gave me and purge. why? i'll know once again that it's not mine to possess. repeat. repeat. refuckingpeat. does it make you more comfortable? now that you have the control? i know. i had it then. i was on top in this flipflop game of power. and you're taking it all back in one violent show of dominance. reclaim your independence! take it and run! no. don't run! stay here! mindfuck me mindfuck me! thank you. that feels good. anything else i can do for you, my one and only all consuming undying love? oh. one more thing. i've wrapped it just for you with silk ribbons and a card made by hand. ask kurt cobain he'll explain better. i was never one for words. maybe that's what killed us. goodnight my love. i'll be sleepless with my sorrow and you will have your own new love...and mine.
-----------------------

[sometimes i don't know where these things come from. i am not experiencing that scenario now. but i begin to type and i get angry for anyone who's ever felt it. and i become them. and i could go all day. being them. goal in life: a mind trade. i can't pick the person, that is too difficult. plus, none of us have a clue about our relation's minds. we are all so drowned by impression at this stage that we forget how apart we ourselves are from the impressions we give to others. and no. i'm not the only one who is tricky tricky. nor are you, my dear friend. we are all here to play this funny and frightening game of who thinks what and who did what and who am i if you aren't you? so. any mind will do. i like surprises. wanna trade?]

pick us up

2006-04-14T01:00:00.000-04:00

it's interesting, you see
the way we use our neighbors' happiness
to bring ourselves down

as if they in their blissful state
could not possibly see us
down here
being stepped on and left for dead

but why not use it? use the positive energy they leave for us
radiating around us, just waiting to be wrapped around us, draped
maybe i am crazy
well i am

but to think that others' joy should show us what we're missing is altogether self-destructive.
if all were in misery, who would pick us up on the day of despair?
who would smile when it seemed impossible a task?
i guess we owe it to those shining happy people everywhere.

i suppose i'm grateful for them.
sometimes, though. i wish i could stay one for more than a few hours at a time.
i can get there. and so can you. it just takes that element of earthshattering value that we are lacking at the moment.

afterall, what and why right now if not me? and me is not the answer.

new found rage

2006-03-29T01:20:00.000-05:00

maybe not new
but new returned
new to me for this day
and maybe new to you altogether
if you have yet to know me here, here i am
and i'll take you full-strength if you so choose
but maybe i'll dampen it for your first time around

nothing from our World makes me want to continue here
can i not step back and simply observe for awhile?
i have learning to do, but nobody gives me the space to learn
always do be here now in the physical everything that makes me
so fucking crazy
because i just want to sit.
and think.
and take in my world as i so choose it to exist

but i suppose these things and people and senses that we allow ourselves to endulge in
will always and have always -- won me over
i should come clean now
wash my hands
and tell you
that i do like this physical world
and its busy crazy fuckedup rush-ed-ness
that is contrary to everything we should be endulging in for our short stay
but i contribute
and relish
and need
those things that i so want to destroy and cast away from my life

so fuck it.
contr a diction
constantly
so for now right now in this moment fleeting never to return but in the eyes of these words
placed here only now and not then or today
i have no answer
for myself
no question to begin the search
twisted and demolished into indistinguishalbe parts, i am right now
so i can't be rage or fear or love or happiness
i can only be
it that appears right now
and hope that it aides in untangling this me
to show me once again
how to be
me

and be ok with it.

baby spin it off

2006-03-28T15:48:00.000-05:00

right off of you to me i'll take it
and hurl it off into the great unknown
though i know of it now

__________________________

take that thing in you that makes you unlike the you i've seen you to be
and just spin it off baby spin it off
right off of you to me i'll take it
and throw it away in the endless pile of things gone and unremembered
though i'll remember

__________________________

give me that tear and i'll assure it won't return
unless you want it to
then i'll give it back and never speak of it again
though i'll think of it

__________________________

give me that beauty and i'll keep it in a box for you
frame it if you wish
show you how to step back and see it
see it
for the first time
and you may not realize the first time
that it is your beauty that stares back at you
though i will

__________________________

[stuck in this whirlwind, nearing the dropoff and not seeing that there is a guardrail, 'so never fear.' walk closely, if you like, but please don't jump. the wall is only 2 feet tall. you can hurdle it with relative ease if you wish, but i'll hold your hand so you feel no need.]

drifting into mystery?

2006-03-28T01:06:00.000-05:00

or so i might describe my state
so disillusioned by this path i've taken right now
i don't want to stay the course
but the work it would take to return to the fork to start anew may cause me to forget which path i started upon in the first place

so i'll stay
maybe i'll sit down right here
in this pile of brown leaves
and play in them for while.

maybe i'll light them on fire and see if it engulfs the forest
i don't think it will
the leaves are damp, afterall, and i know i'll be unsuccessful

so i'll sit in them. maybe build a wreath for a friend who needs a hug and no arms of mine can reach so far but the leaves, the same here as there can easily take the place -- the Earth, afterall, knows more about her than i do.

maybe i'll find a potatobug here, too. maybe i'll pick it up and stare at its little round body and wonder why i didn't become that instead of ---
me.

is that more pressing than why i didn't become him or her or us collectively, though? or is my problem that i just can't see why this me i became has been reduced to sitting in these leaves pondering mine and my friend potatobug's existence. ??

i laugh because i often punctuate a question with a period. clearly i know that the question is a statement, an affirmative. maybe this is a portrayal of my need for reassurance from you. you who knows my answer- to tell me- though i've already answered- that my answer is sound.

back to that concept of drifitng
sifting
through something in you
that's made me clear myself of excess i do not require
i am still wholly me
without those things removed from the wire

when i get this air pushed violently through my lungs
i realize
that i have not breathed fully in months
remember
what pure air feels like filled with a smile that can't help but creep into my face
when i breathe that breath
powered by the force you have applied
i thank that clear air
and you
and myself for reassuming my free comfortable self.

it's you

2006-03-12T02:51:00.000-05:00

i wait on this corner every night
the bitter cold making me hate every part of you
you make me wait here

i cannot make myself leave this cold
__________________________

i wake to dancing every morning
in my motionless body
dancing with the thought of you
it's you
always you

_________________________

i am never quite sure how you rouse this me in me

many days i wish to suppress you in me
to suppress you in me would be to abolish the me in me

i cannot do that
metahysically or otherwise
so i'll keep you around

__________________________

see how much convincing it took?
for the pain you cause me to be nothing but a side-effect of your beauty?
i see it all clearly in my mind
fortunately none of us rational people take heed to that mind i refer to
fortunately

___________________________

in honesty, however,
i know not you who causes this in me
nor do i ask it of you to cause in me
any of these effects from your cause
but i do ask of you
who causes anything in me
to knock on my door
i'll gladly invite you in.

________________________

that game

2006-02-27T03:40:00.000-05:00

it.
it's like that crying game.
that cursing game.
that fighting game that lying game.
that fucking game that everything game.
that game that won't ever end it keeps us going it keeps us going.
no. no. no. not that game i spoke of in the last turn of life, not that fork's lead i mistook.
the real game. here and now. then and the will be. our game.

it can't end. we'd end.
as humans, we need that game. that play. that fuck you fuck me let's just fuck with each other.
it's a mindfuck. constantly. a universe full of trickery and manipulation.
a day with uncalled-for deception and tight-mouthed praise.

it's ok, though. there exists no other reason for us all than that of the play. it's true, really, it is.
we are not here to live, to breathe, to exist, to think-- we are not here to be.
we are here to win. through ourselves. through another. through the controller of the game--
the us that is universal. that radiates as hidden, heatless, senseless energy.

we all play. good bad evil right righteous - we do it all. masters of our own lies. all of us. we live for it. in it.
we are both the creaters and the slaves to our game, and i love it.
it.
keeps.
us all going.

food is the power, heart is the soul, mind is the master -- keep playing, folks, it's bound to get interesting for all of us sooner than later.

the Earth's game might be nearer it's checkmate ...

maybe we should invite bobby fischer to play ...
[he's stopped playing ... we're all doomed]

Student Stabbed Outside Baker Tower - News

2006-02-19T17:10:00.000-05:00

Student Stabbed Outside Baker Tower - News

This doesn't happen here.

valentines day 2k6

2006-02-15T02:21:00.001-05:00

ahhhhh
what a lovely day
and the nice people
and the red steeple

the kisses
straight and queer
the glances
far and near

ahhhhh
what a lovely day
and the warm sun
and the day's fun

--------------------------

the day almost as real as the preceeding passage
royaled and robbed of all dignity like trousers
one can live without, i've heard from many in past weeks

stock up on cards and flowers, folks, cuz it's time for americans
to show their hearts
so that we can all understand in a substantially increased real manner
that those hearts are so absent
so much of the time

does red symbolize our hearts? or heartache?
love? war? hate?
why in fuck's name do we still all buy into it? i supposed it's something
to do with enjoying attention, the hilarity of elementary school valentines, and
that opportunity to out yourself to the secret someone.

no. we all believe it to be a real day. filled with love and chocolate.
which is crap. for most people, that is.
it wouldn't be, and i wouldn't be bitter about it,
if we'd learn to show the same love and attention the other 364.

the phoenix and the turtle

2006-02-10T15:48:00.000-05:00

[.....//
-----
Beauty, truth, and rarity.
Grace in all simplicity,
Here enclos'd in cinders lie.

Death is now the phoenix' nest;
And the turtle's loyal breast
To eternity doth rest,

Leaving no posterity:--
'Twas not their infirmity,
It was married chastity.

Truth may seem, but cannot be:
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she;
Truth and beauty buried be.

To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer. ]

William Shakespeare

somewhere up there

2006-02-10T15:43:00.000-05:00

i'm floating, i think.

i don't know if i'll be coming down for awhile. maybe it's this newfound me that has propelled me into this state, for the first time in a not-soon-to-be-regretted sort of state.

that smile that comes to my face when unprovoked through the senses is the best thing in the world.
i hope that everybody has been doing that for lifetimes and it just took me a few longer. it's a genuine smile, too, not one that is fleeting and boring after it's over. it lasts. and i like it.

i may feel like shit in body right now, but it can't penetrate this person i've become like it once could.

thank happiness for that.

pride or prejudice?

2006-02-07T00:27:00.000-05:00

can't have one without the other. fair trade if you ask me. more later.

the binge ends.

2006-02-06T02:14:00.000-05:00

the binge stops here. after a smoke, a drink, and some thoughts.

time to break down and do. stop being a waste of fresh air.

here we go.
i love meeting new people, doing new things, all that jazz.
however, i enjoy the simplicity of sticking with what you know and who you love.
that night in on friday with popcorn and some stupid movie. no worries.
i like the challenge of being out there, too, though. i guess it's a balance i can't quite equate.

it is possible that i'll look back on these years and say that i didn't get enough out of the opportunity with which i was presented, but i won't believe me.
i know now that everything i sacrifice for what i get is worth that getting.
all of it. pretty ugly and evil. i might be those three things. i think i am. at least right now.

sometimes i stay awake all night, heart racing uncomfortably, thinking about undone laundry, untold stories, and unhinged ideas. really every night. trying to train myself back into the comforts of myself at ease. that's a place i'm not too familiar with. but i enjoy it so very much.

i should go back there. it shouldn't take much work. i should stop thinking about it.

what does thinking do, anyhow, but cloud the emotions that are our base of being?
maybe too much thought for a 2am binge-ending manifesto. problems on elm street. which is every street.

sometimes i say fuck it

2006-02-02T00:57:00.000-05:00

because there's nothing else to say.
because resources have been excercised.
because there has been no time in the set aside for fun.
maybe i require fun in order to function properly.

i suppose everybody should, in their own respect, require fun for functionality.
fun is what keeps us doing whatever it is we're doing, of course.

i get quite frustrated, however, when people forget that.
when they get so caught up in their scholastic life that no second is allowed for a mere hello. how are you.

i feel i try and give that to people.
i am sorry if i don't.
and i wish that you could give it, too.

reciprocation in friendship.
reciprocation in life.
these two things will never be fully realized, to be sure.

little bit 'o sugar on top

2006-01-31T01:29:00.000-05:00

you with a little bit 'o sugar on top would be nice.
so would spain.
me in my dreams would be the norm if today were considered crazy.
but the monotony of doing and being and going here and there - that's not to be seen as crazy.
crazy is the unexplained. the undetermined. the unknown, or reasoned.
place a reason or a logical maze upon one crazy place of being and suddenly you've stumbled upon normal.
we are nothing more than mad creations of irregular habits that we are forced to generalize into the largest possible categories in order to see order -- have something to run our lives by.

i could take last night's dream. [breif synopsis: crabcakes, friends from middle school, and a friend's boyfriend yelling at me for telling off the duck that kept biting me in the sports store, or should i say, the black tie dinner in the fishing section of a sports store]
no explanations can be found in the rational sensical world, but we could all create our own, dampening any intuition of crazy and turning mad into normative.

if our madness can turn to normalcy with simply a chart or social model, how are we not creatures of instinct? habit? control?

we are not in control of ourselves; this way in which we explain ourselves is the governing body. for each of us. free-spirited or otherwise.

i think i can handle that though, as long as there is still allowed in my overtired and underused mind the process which leads us to our conclusions. that second before knowing something or acknowledging a ripe belief. that moment in time where you truly don't know and may be left with a vacant mind but your mind that will soon tell your brain which will tell yourself that you know [now] knows already. and that is cool. we are all keeping things from ourselves. in every moment. and that capability - to undermine and deceive the only piece of existence who knows us - that ... we are growing in intelligence each second we know something that we haven't told ourselves - every minute - leads me to believe that we're highly capable of things we have yet to know....

at least i think i don't know. i might know it by now.

in any case,
people are the spice of life. and please, good patrons, thank those who hold your door, and hold a door or two a day.

who woulda thought?

2006-01-09T00:56:00.000-05:00

that i'd be here now.

in happy places, doing ok things?

who woulda thought?

not me. but probably you. and you. and them. and they.

maybe it's a blessing that i am the only one who can fully appreciate my health in mind body and soul right now. even as i sit here in the most offensive mood i can imagine in my state, i am healthy. and coping. and ok.

and ok.

i know now, that this is my life to live, and it is every bit as important as yours. and his. and theirs. and ours. because i will leave some of me with him and you and them and us and everyone that i value above myself.
i no longer place bets. put value. quantify.

even if i am not fulfilling every inch of my abilities. if i am unwilling to do more...right now.
it is ok. because sooner than later, i will give it all back. i am always giving it back. in the pieces of me that i give to each of you and us and the world, i am being of service. i am forever in service. to the duty of us. there will die no individual without a piece of them left in each they touch. and i am no different.

i recognize that now.
and i thank the powers that be, in body and soul, for pushing me towards the realization-- the realization that i being me and you being you, is more power to the people than any charity dollar that i cursed myself for not giving could possibly be.

midnight playground

2005-12-10T00:44:00.000-05:00

[dillusional reflections from a midnight playground]

vacant world stares me down
unable to escape the droning sounds

of lights unused and wasting space
where imagined stand a sturdy face

saying it's alright and there is a reason
for unanswered probes and lack of cohesion

the dust settles thick and sits heavy here
wrecking lungs and reaching heart near

but now hearts are seldom and greed is great
in this sleepy desert suburb- full of unknown hate.

[challenging neverland]

it's past their bedtime but i hear them still
laughing and jumping - thuds bumps and shrills
the assumed innocence of the children who play
is lost when the brown hair envisioned is grey

the love and the purity grown to secrets and lust
they've learned their own lies have eaten their trust
the light in their eyes has changed it's source
from thirsty naiivity to tears they cant force

passion is a word now used only in anger
and the hope that kept pushing falls faster and fainter
so this midnight playground- that the youth should adore
has challenged neverland, created a place to abhor.

getting ahead

2005-12-08T18:17:00.000-05:00

are any of us 'getting ahead?'
even with grand insight and underappreciated compassion
and a drive that could take us all to our moon and back

when that button is pushed
or that switch thrown
or that curse cast

our ahead is
their behind
and their behind

is just as fucked as ours.

unexpected bursts

2005-12-05T01:40:00.000-05:00

those unexpected bursts
that by name come without reservation
but know they are invited before they arrive
like tonight and today and yesterday filled with these guests that make me question
if constant emotion can subsist or if i am in stable equillibrium waiting for the crashers
to arrive and bust up the party which does not exist
without reservation, invitation, or need of either

an event isn't an event if it is planned and destiny understood
its course cannot be run if we know where it is to end
it is merely a figment of our past seen from the future if no unsolicited guests arrive
nobody nothing something to break up the good time
burst our bubble
start the wheels turning the legs kicking and the life beginning

as much as we lie to ourselves that drama is yesterday and to forget it
it is our future
it is what we live for
for it is human and we are human and without these dramatic interactions we are
only looking into our past through a clear window with no pane to block our view and cannot see
that our future can't exist and our past can't exist and our present is not present
because we must leave life to the unknown unexpected
uninvited and continually feared
or there is nothing left for our minds to work for
nothing for the imagination to muster
nor for reality to shoot it down or create

let it work and be content in the mystery us
and say that dramatic is expected no matter how uninvited
let it take you kicking and screaming and laughing all the way
and you will sleep well dreaming your dreams with question marks dotted with smiles hanging
over your sleepy eyes
even if fear consumes your night a smile will arise with you as the sun follows suit.

change

2005-11-18T13:06:00.000-05:00

is amazing.

Implosions -- adrienne rich

2005-11-18T01:29:00.000-05:00

[the world's
not wanton
only wild and wavering

i wanted to choose words that even you
would have to be changed by

take the word
of my pulse, loving and ordinary
send out your signals, hoist
your dark scribbled flaws
but take
my hand

all wars are useless to the dead

my hands are knotted in the rope
and i cannot sound the bell

my hands are frozen to the switch
and i cannot throw it

the foot is in the wheel

when it's finished and we're lying
in a stubble of blistered flowers
eyes gaping, mouths staring
dusted with crushed arterial blues

i'll have done nothing
even for you?]

you know the feeling

2005-11-17T18:20:00.000-05:00

that inexplicable anger that arises from no action, but simply a trigger of an idea once worshiped.

it is not possibly identifiable by soul or heart at this point, only through that video of archives that haunts and hurts inside the mind of each of us, that nook where each of us is holding on to things we'd rather not but know we must.

[would you rid that memory? would i?
can it truly be gone if the conciousness which it molded must stay intact? ]

tangent thoughts for another sun...

back to that anger i wish i could suppress. did anyone truly ever hurt me? or did i use their power to hurt myself? we all look for those outlets, do we not? those opportunities to be able to blame somebody, accept that hurt, allow something or someone to assist in our deeply personal healing? what if we reject that? if we do not allow ourselves to accept that hurt? could we do it? or at least try?
or would be simply be numbing our hearts so that the insensitivity would outweigh any form of emotion...we would become...something other than what a human is. a human feels. a human manipulates. wants to feel. needs to feel. needs and subconsciously craves that hurt so that the healing can improve the psyche, build upon that storybook of underrecognized experiences that mold us form us play with us until we end up to be that being who we'll become ?

can i reject this anger? this truly inconsequential and purely hurtful anger? why has it chosen to manifest itself in me right now? i did not call upon some reason to be angry. i did not call upon myself to bring to life something to which i can draw the attention of others?
or did myself do it for me?
yes, i think it did.

time to stop fucking feeling sorry for myself.
grab that perfectly mystic state - grasp it from the air and take it in - its sole purpose to overcome this anger that spurs from nothing that is me anymore --- anywhere.

evolving, yes we are. yes, i am. so that anger. can not be conjured up in a time when i need something to sulk about, to rage about. because that anger was born in a place that i choose not to revisit. that i have archived for a reason.
so i reject it.

and so can you.

about time to shine baby

2005-11-11T04:00:00.000-05:00

bout time to shine the sun never shone
breathe a breath never breathed
and see like i've never seen before/

it's that time.
about time baby
to shine.

shine like i can but haven't
breathe like i can but wouldn't
see like i am but hadn't/

wow this sun breath sight makes me somewhere else
takes me someone else
and shows me everything i've been waiting to know see tell do want crave understand.

and please note, folks of passion,
no you's will be used in this nightly muse
until one turns me side upon end and shows me
back into that hole i have so recently arisen from

so you is overrated and me us and everyone not used enough
let's talk about us as a we and an all
and leave the you's to you/

and the shining breathing and
seeing.
seeing.
seeing.
to all of us.

why the stumble, you ask?

2005-08-26T16:04:00.000-04:00

you must know more than i.
i really haven't the slightest. it hurts. so deep. so raw. no relief. nowhere to turn.
but how?
smile on my face.
energy abounding.
life moving in that direction i've so pointed it. or at least lightly encouraged.

waiting

2005-08-10T14:05:00.000-04:00

until it ends. all of it.
pull out of it.
get away.
run away.

those talks that bring you under

2005-08-09T23:33:00.000-04:00

so i had one of those talks tonight.
conversations.

that pulled me back under. to that place where i hate to exist. i can't live there anymore. yet i still travel.
talking about that place puts me back there.
so maybe i forget about it? stop thinking about that me. so much of me that is me that is everything me and let it go? let it die? i need it. i need that me. to remind me what it is i am right now. to let me never to forget that pain. always keep the pain. so that joy is never lacking intensity. must always appreciate. that's what my heart tells me.

but my brain says let it go. try to shed that hurt that pain that thing that is the most raw most real me. forget it. and find happiness through those things which i have yet to discover.
and i want to agree.

but my heart has a brain of its own. i am no help.

she called me and said...

2005-08-05T14:48:00.000-04:00

she called me and said 'let's experiment.'

i said 'ok.'

but i only say that because i know she'll have fun.

i won't. but i'll pretend.
like always.
that it's magical.

is that fair?
to pretend to enjoy something that should be intimate, meaningful, pure?
sure, i think so. as long as transparency is not part of the equation.

'plan something you've always wanted to do,' she told me.
i wanted to say 'no. i don't want to. that exists with someone unlike yourself.'

i can't really enjoy things sexual unless it's with that person. that i crave. adore. need.
anything or anyone other than that is, well, boring. for me. fun to please another, of course. but for me--useless.

so i might as well, right? useless things to me are not useless if not for the other as well. so why not? and keep waiting. for that time when time really does stand still. for both.

what do i say to you

2005-07-31T21:45:00.000-04:00

when you refuse to acknowledge my existence?

from most important to nothing? that quickly? did i truly harm you? did i do you any wrong? you just suddenly can't stand me? or anything to do with me? space? give you space? that's what you want? so you can detatch never to be seen again and here i am again left behind without wishing you were still that woman i love. that i maintain in my mind of you. are you not that anymore? have you evolved so quickly and angrily that you've voluntarily pushed me out of your life?

thanks. but i'm not going to make it that easy for you. i need you. there was a time you needed me too.

ani difranco knows me

2005-07-27T16:19:00.000-04:00

[i am out here studying stones/
trying to learn to be less alive/
using all of my will/
to keep very still/
still even on the inside/
i've cut all of the pertinent wires/
so my eyes can't make that connection/
i am holding my breath/
i am feigning my death/
when I'm looking in your direction/

'course numb is an old hat/
old as my oldest memories/
see that one's my mother/
and that one's my father/
and that one in the hat, that's me/
it's a skill I'd hoped to abandon/
when I got out on the open road/
but any more pent up emotion/
and I think I'm gonna explode/

there's never been an endeavor so strange/
as trying to slow the blood in my veins/
to keep my face blank/
as a stone that just sank/
until not a ripple remains/
i am high above the tree line/
sitting cross legged on the ground/
when all of the forbidden fruit has fallen and rotted/
that's when I'm gonna come down/

'course numb is an old hat/
old as my oldest memories/
see that one's my mother/
and that one's my father/
and that one in the hat, that's me/
it's a skill I'd hoped to abandon/
when I got out on the open road/
but any more pent up emotion/
and I think I'm gonna explode]

not quite sure. about anything.

2005-07-27T12:54:00.000-04:00

is it because i'm alone? is it because i have nobody who first relies on me? do i have a place to go? do i have a place anywhere? yeah. no family. no home. the only one who knows me has stopped speaking to me. for my own good, she thinks. wait, i made that up, but that's what i believe. she's the one place i could turn, and she no longer exists for me. and that fucking hurts. puts me back in that place that she pulled me out of. that idea that i have nothing nobody no reason that i am simply a pawn in the scheme and not helping anyone. thank you for pulling me out of that place. fuck you for putting me back where i started.

heartless? me? so far from. so fucking far from. i have so much. love. to give. and nobody to concentrate it upon. sure, i can project that love and shine it so that it touches even those whom i have never seen. but i have a special saved portion. that i have always had. and always kept. for somebody. i gave it away once. it was broken and torn and thrown away, but it's back. it's ready to be utilized. i want somebody to give it to. all of it. so concentrated and deep that nothing else will be needed but that love. that's what i want. even if i never get any of it back. i want to give it. all. to someone. feel like i'm wasting my time that i could be giving it. right now. with nobody to give it to. with nothing important in my life. but my ideas. and that hope of what i might be doing for somebody in the future. can't let it die. can't leave this Earth without knowing that magic that i know exists between two people who give their everything to the other.

so much to do in this lifetime. so many beautiful things to do. beautiful people to know. beautiful ideas to explore. but that beauty. when expressed in the name of another. with another. for another. is more than just beautiful. it's that magic. that will sustain me.

about right and wrong.

2005-07-25T15:51:00.000-04:00

right. wrong. such a horrible dichotomy. but how else can we view ourselves vs. others? this is similar to my last post, but i've realized a few flaws in my wording. or my organization of idea. this happens often. i haven't actually come upon a new idea or changed my views, but expanded in an organized (i.e. put things into words) manner.

so. no. i am not correct. and no. everybody else is not wrong. but there is this ideal that i keep sacred and i believe that it is the ideal that would benefit all more than any other ideal that somebody else may have created. do i know that i am right? no. but am i as close to knowing as i ever will be? maybe.

the one who knows me best suggested to me that she knows how i view the world. my attitude. she's wrong. so very wrong. but that's ok. because again, that organization and ability to create words for a belief often escapes me, so i don't expect even those best friends to ever understand what i believe. it's mine. it will never be anybody elses.
the strongest point she made was that i hate those who do not think like me. i made the comment that i only hate those who hate. yes, hypocritical, and yes, incorrect. not what i think at all, in fact.

i don't hate people who hate. that would mean i hated my family. who hate those who are different. i don't hate them. it would mean that i hate that person walking down the street with that sign that says 'gays are going to hell.'
but i don't.
i hate that system that they reside in. i hate the possibility of their beliefs existing. and i hate that i am not powerful enough to show more people the light. to show people that the most powerful concept in life, the most amazing thing to discover. that thing that will set us free.

that idea of thinking for yourself. for myself. for ourselves. erase what you think, and create what you know.

alienation lessens the blow

2005-07-20T13:58:00.000-04:00

true, isn't it?
pull away, even push away, and things become easier, so it seems.
but do these things actually become easier, or are we just safeguarding ourselves? taking the easy way. seems quite logical, but so fucking stupid.
is not our duty to try and pursue that depth that we rarely reach? maybe never find? see what our minds are truly capable? our hearts? what can we do? who can we reach? where is that 90% of untouched genious? that part of the heart that we only recognize during hurt?

i believe we can find it.
so pushing away. is killing that opportunity. speak without words, listen with no sound. that's what i am here for. to see what i am capable as. as a member of humanity. as an individual friend lover thinker.
i can do more. and i can see but not touch. which excites that frustration that it is indeed untouchable. but i cannot buy that. cannot. i refuse to think that i am incapable of more. not just more but so much more. when i get that glimpse. of other. of else. of different. it is

magic.

we can become magic. we can create what does not exist within the defined. and that is amazing. that is why i refuse to push away, but must push on. must keep trying. even if it is in only the preservation of you. because i see all of this. all of this magic. in me. in your shadow.

and i know i will see it in another's, and another's in mine.

them vs. me

2005-07-14T12:35:00.000-04:00

always them.
never me.
how could i blame myself?
everything i believe. is fact.
putting it in words like that may cause you to wonder if i believe i own the world, if i believe that i am better than you and everyone else in this world.
yes and know.
believing = knowing? correct?
they are communicable. interchangable. if a faulter is needed when speaking of personal beliefs and ideas, that belief does not exist for that person.
we are all correct. we all speak fact. but my fact and my beliefs are supreme. to me.
this does not cause me to abhor you.
this does not cause me to walk with my head held as high as i can stretch my neck.
but.
it does cause conviction. belief-knowledge-passion.
isn't passion a direct effect of knowing something and knowing that others do not know the same thing?
isn't most of our life spent in argument? in dispute? for what we know? belief? understand?
why can't we all understand?
why does not everybody understand those fundamental ideas that i know are true? must be communicated?
because we all know.
we all know differently.
and a fact is not only a stat.
although a stat is a fact. it just happens to be something that we all know/believe concurrently.
right?
yes.
right.
exactly my point.

i will stop saying believe.
start using know.
that knowledge will cultivate passion which will call upon action.
which is what we all need.
do.
not just know.
be.
not just do.
live.
doing and being. and knowing.

i know
that i will use my passion
to create action
which will call upon another
so that she may know
which will spur that same passion
and continue this cycle.

until every

last

human

knows

that there is only one answer.

love.

[love is the answer]

one of the most cruel habits of humanity...

2005-07-10T20:53:00.000-04:00

is that people fuck with each other for fun.
or power.
some sort of fucked up game that has a winner. and a loser. none of this equal bullshit.
the victim?
she in love.
the guilty?
she once in love.
tis true that we all do it. play games. see how much we can successfully control one another. manipulate.
so if i was once the manipulator i have since been demoted. conquered. fucking cast aside that role of the one in control.
have lost that control. have lost that confidence that yields. captures. understands. power.
is power necessary? yes. well...maybe not necessary. but certain. these games. there is no equal relationship. on micro macro or any other scale to draw a parallel with.
nope.
it's all fucked up.
and so are we all.
the one aspect to it all that really makes it abhorrable, however, is that usually. or i may say...in my case. once that power is realized. the less it is excercized. the power is in the acknowledgement of such. not the excecution of the force.
and that, my friends. my enemies. everyone. is why i am now defeated. failed to use that power when i knew i had it, and when it was lost, was (am being) crushed with the same weight i once held.
congrat u fucking lations.

once again.
fuck you for your untouchable face.
fuck you for existing in the first place.
but.
i still love you.
i still even like you.
i still need you.

but who are you?

right. because i make sense.

2005-07-08T17:07:00.000-04:00

oh wait. i don't. not to myself at least. but my conflict at the moment is so ridiculously hypocritical that it really does not exist. because an argument of personal context is no argument if it is not believed.
the argument?
to post or not to post? yeah. yeah. i know. every blogger's first post must include some disclaimer to try and shed all gleams of ego and self-righteousness and explain to the world of blog readers that. well. hear me this. i am not the same as all of those OTHER bloggers who get joy in allowing others to feel their pain and empathize and agree and find hope in common and find joy in common and wait i realized today that i have these thoughts for a reason.
i need to share them.
if only with this dell computer and its monitor's fuzzy animal stickers (yeah. at work. don't ask.).

sensical? to me? tons. maybe you'll follow my thought and i won't and you'll clarify but at that point that thought will have passed and my passions will lie elsewhere. no. same place. at an elevated, more effectual level.
so the argument. of course. to post. to present the opportunity if nothing else to give my something to another. through as simple a gesture as words.
maybe feeling.
maybe everything i have.
maybe that's everything we all have.
we all have as much as another in unique forms.
we are all each other, just put together differently.
experiment that never ends. will that experiment ever succeed?
put those peices together correctly?
give the world that perfect person?
i hope not.
i hope you hope not.
i hope we all hope not.
there are already enough who believe they have already mastered that experiment (or rather, God's experiment. because, well, everything in HIS eyes is perfect. pfff. enough. stupidity.). Let's open our eyes. to here now and future. to make this place. a place for us. the imperfect. who accept our imperfections embrace those of others and move. and do. and be.