Ode to Geeks

My computer is... in a word... sublime.

There's a little party in my computer. :)

Words can't describe, so I posted pics (which don't do it justice either).

I love my brother. <3

Purple. :) This is before we added the two smaller lights.

Christmas lights in my computer. :D 

Does it kill the earth to know it cannot touch the sun?

So, today.

Interviewed for a TA position that I'm likely to lose to a perky blonde freshman. Lunch with Holls and Mimi. Interesting. Steele with Holls.

Entertaining things that Holls has done today:

Giggled
Hopped
Likely, more giggling.

Field trip in the VIP van. Interesting, cool, and dull. It needed space aliens or vampires or whatnot. Perhaps a heirophany would have mixed stuff up a bit. Oh well.

Class. Slept through presentations. Learned about a review session -- yay!

Cereal. Cause that's what I eat.

Post office. Mom drove me, so I could not get too wet. In the post office there was a guy and a chick, and the guy was very male shauvanist. Asshole: "You don't have a credit card? But all women just buy and buy and buy!" His girlfriend: *smile, looks at tiles*

< rant >

Omg! Why do women put up with scrawny assed pissants like this? Women really need to learn you don't need to buy a whole pig just to get some sausage. Or buy better pigs. I mean, other than this slightly offensive comment, he had that abusive energy around him. Scuzzy. The kind of man you'd give a wide berth to on the streets. Greasy, with the fuzzy wannabe beard that 14 year olds have, only he's over 20. Probably has a lack of testosterone. I probably have more testosterone and pent up anger in my little finger than he has in his shriveled little balls.

< / rant >

Kimmel. Inappropriate comment made in the middle of Comstock Avenue: "Mug me again." Stole music, threatened Holls, and here I am, stewing in my own juices and plotting deaths.

A poem for j00 --

She wasn't the brightest star
but she rose on my horizon.

She was constant,
she was loathsome,
she created rain.

Does it kill the earth to know
it cannot touch the sun?

I wish I could open my eyes into all of those years
Where my whole existence wrapped around sounds of
Sinew wrapped bones’ cracked open surprise
To the tricks of marrow drawn slick and so broken,
And I’ll gaze back on you so I know how to lean
While subtly sinking the followed bones down.
Fearful though you still keep watch for the buried horrors,
And you seem so much to thrive in lies and sock footed dreams,
You can’t see next time; light will rob us till we’re grown.
Quelling repetitions of consoling lacerations doesn’t happen.
Aberrations dip down beneath the unifying surface of glass
To cast reproachful reflections back twenty five years.
You’re saying you don’t want to know these schemes,
I’m saying that I can’t tell anymore just who to abhor.

Don’t ever wish I could open my eyes
Just so I could be seen without my skin.
Sinew wrapped bones’ cracked open surprise
Tricks of marrow drawn slick and so broken,
To gaze back on you so I know how to lean
While subtly sinking the followed bones down
To hell or Dover or some heaven in between
Decay; next time light will rob us till we’re grown.
Seeming to thrive in torn lies and sock footed dreams,
Would you ever keep guessing if horrors loitered here?
You’re saying you don’t want to know these schemes,
That it’s just another ending on the road to nowhere,
That dips so often into the depths of the mirror
That it’s often hard to know just who to abhor.

Ode to Rufus Wainwright... perhaps

Vicious pretty things say
Bye-bye beautiful, but I
Don’t see why you couldn’t inspire
The lungs. My narcoleptic muse
Poses for a bit of you. Gives
Herself to the pieces of me
Littered brittle on the canvas
Of a damned white page stretched
Vulnerable on a bone-brown frame.
Settle down, don’t jump around like
You know it’s not a mask, why can’t you
Wear it like a face. The lies are
Faster than you or I. So
Rip it out, tie it tight; fuck it up
Why don’t you.

17 Reasons Not to Slit Your Wrists...by Michael Moore

Dear Friends,

Ok, it sucks. Really sucks. But before you go and cash it all in, let's, in the words of Monty Python, “always look on the bright side of life!” There IS some good news from Tuesday's election.

Here are 17 reasons not to slit your wrists:

1. It is against the law for George W. Bush to run for president again.

2. Bush's victory was the NARROWEST win for a sitting president since Woodrow Wilson in 1916.

3. The only age group in which the majority voted for Kerry was young adults (Kerry: 54%, Bush: 44%), proving once again that your parents are always wrong and you should never listen to them.

4. In spite of Bush's win, the majority of Americans still think the country is headed in the wrong direction (56%), think the war wasn't worth fighting (51%), and don’t approve of the job George W. Bush is doing (52%). (Note to foreigners: Don't try to figure this one out. It's an American thing, like Pop Tarts.)

5. The Republicans will not have a filibuster-proof 60-seat majority in the Senate. If the Democrats do their job, Bush won't be able to pack the Supreme Court with right-wing ideologues. Did I say "if the Democrats do their job?" Um, maybe better to scratch this one.

6. Michigan voted for Kerry! So did the entire Northeast, the birthplace of our democracy. So did 6 of the 8 Great Lakes States. And the whole West Coast! Plus Hawaii. Ok, that's a start. We've got most of the fresh water, all of Broadway, and Mt. St. Helens. We can dehydrate them or bury them in lava. And no more show tunes!

7. Once again we are reminded that the buckeye is a nut, and not just any old nut -- a poisonous nut. A great nation was felled by a poisonous nut. May Ohio State pay dearly this Saturday when it faces Michigan.

8. 88% of Bush's support came from white voters. In 50 years, America will no longer have a white majority. Hey, 50 years isn't such a long time! If you're ten years old and reading this, your golden years will be truly golden and you will be well cared for in your old age.

9. Gays, thanks to the ballot measures passed on Tuesday, cannot get married in 11 new states. Thank God. Just think of all those wedding gifts we won't have to buy now.

10. Five more African Americans were elected as members of Congress, including the return of Cynthia McKinney of Georgia. It's always good to have more blacks in there fighting for us and doing the job our candidates can't.

11. The CEO of Coors was defeated for Senate in Colorado. Drink up!

12. Admit it: We like the Bush twins and we don't want them to go away.

13. At the state legislative level, Democrats picked up a net of at least 3 chambers in Tuesday's elections. Of the 98 partisan-controlled state legislative chambers (house/assembly and senate), Democrats went into the 2004 elections in control of 44 chambers, Republicans controlled 53 chambers, and 1 chamber was tied. After Tuesday, Democrats now control 47 chambers, Republicans control 49 chambers, 1 chamber is tied and 1 chamber (Montana House) is still undecided.

14. Bush is now a lame duck president. He will have no greater moment than the one he's having this week. It's all downhill for him from here on out -- and, more significantly, he's just not going to want to do all the hard work that will be expected of him. It'll be like everyone's last month in 12th grade -- you've already made it, so it's party time! Perhaps he'll treat the next four years like a permanent Friday, spending even more time at the ranch or in Kennebunkport. And why shouldn't he? He's already proved his point, avenged his father and kicked our ass.

15. Should Bush decide to show up to work and take this country down a very dark road, it is also just as likely that either of the following two scenarios will happen: a) Now that he doesn't ever need to pander to the Christian conservatives again to get elected, someone may whisper in his ear that he should spend these last four years building "a legacy" so that history will render a kinder verdict on him and thus he will not push for too aggressive a right-wing agenda; or b) He will become so cocky and arrogant -- and thus, reckless -- that he will commit a blunder of such major proportions that even his own party will have to remove him from office.

16. There are nearly 300 million Americans -- 200 million of them of voting age. We only lost by three and a half million! That's not a landslide -- it means we're almost there. Imagine losing by 20 million. If you had 58 yards to go before you reached the goal line and then you barreled down 55 of those yards, would you stop on the three yard line, pick up the ball and go home crying -- especially when you get to start the next down on the three yard line? Of course not! Buck up! Have hope! More sports analogies are coming!!!

17. Finally and most importantly, over 55 million Americans voted for the candidate dubbed "The #1 Liberal in the Senate." That's more than the total number of voters who voted for either Reagan, Bush I, Clinton or Gore. Again, more people voted for Kerry than Reagan. If the media are looking for a trend it should be this -- that so many Americans were, for the first time since Kennedy, willing to vote for an out-and-out liberal. The country has always been filled with evangelicals -- that is not news. What IS news is that so many people have shifted toward a Massachusetts liberal. In fact, that's BIG news. Which means, don't expect the mainstream media, the ones who brought you the Iraq War, to ever report the real truth about November 2, 2004. In fact, it's better that they don't. We'll need the element of surprise in 2008.

Feeling better? I hope so. As my friend Mort wrote me yesterday, "My Romanian grandfather used to say to me, 'Remember, Morton, this is such a wonderful country -- it doesn't even need a president!'"

But it needs us. Rest up, I'll write you again tomorrow.

Yours,

Michael Moore

I know why the caged bird sings

You guessed it. I went to see Maya Angelou. She was phenominal. ;-) She's really funny, and really open, and very beautiful. She was joking about aches and pains, and said she had advil "and a little something," for her knees. She read some poetry, but later I realized, what she'd read to us had all been memorized, because she wears glasses to read, and did that maybe once. It was all from memory.

I'm not going to summarize. I won't take a beautiful experience and reduce it into words. I'm just going to leave it at that it was wonderful.

There were some pretty dancers at the end too... ;-) Good song too.

And a woman I called from work had gone too. I mentioned that Maya Angelou came as a thing the university did, and she said, "Yes, I was there." So that started a conversation, and I stayed a little late, but it's all good. She was really nice.

I also hate lawyers. Not going into that. Just, why gripe about the poor, how sad it is for the elderly in nursing homes, the horrible state of social security, how hard the times are, and then tell me you voted for your "frat buddy" Dubya? Did Dubya even GO to college? I'm amazed. But really. Fucking moron. IF YOU VOTED FOR DUBYA, STOP COMPLAINING ABOUT THE NATION! I don't want to hear the whining.

I also think some ex's should stay buried. Nuff said.

I believe in false pretenses, cheating the system, traveling alone, not heeding warnings, invincibility, victimization; I believe that sometimes one life must be lost to save another.

I believe we never have a choice even when we do. I believe in going too fast when you don't know where you're going but stopping every now and then.

I believe music is universal, so is death; I believe in the power of words, the strength of friends, the way it feels to drive with the windows down and the volume up.

I believe in the bottom of the fifth glass, the last tear you can afford to shed. I believe that everyone has a voice, but not everyone uses it.

I believe that refractions caught in the light make the sky blue, that some of the best masks aren't masks at all. I believe that some of the best faces aren't faces either.

I believe that it all turns out well in the end but we’re not even close yet; I believe some people are beyond saving. I believe in underestimating waterfalls and taking chances.

Dead Obaud?

I did not wake up, I couldn’t
See the long night ending, I couldn’t
Feel chill of morning, but if I could
Just turn over for five more…

I could cut away the uselessness
If I could slit between the veins.
Drag the point down and pray
Never to bring it up again,
If only I could pick a point to press.

I could sink so much farther
Than you’ve ever known.
Slack jawed sleeping in the watery bed,
Tucked in snugly beneath plastic sheets.
Protection you only wish you could escape.
If only I could see past the suffocating green.

I could fall again.
It would be counted, never named.
Blazing with the scent of burning
Flesh was only background of the gore
So hold on to your fingers and heads
And duck the sweeping arm of…
Melted eyes don’t see the slaughter.

To Whom It May Concern:

Me and mornings aren’t exactly on speaking terms
anymore, from all the waking with the outlet box pressed
neatly against the small of my back. Teetering
on the edge of a long thin bed, opening my eyes
and rather than the ceiling I see
the springs, the underside. I hid beneath
and slept below to have room to stretch
and curl because no matter what
you had to have your space. You had to
be the only person in your world.
So much so that you pushed me out of it,
out of the bed, out of your room.
I was never satisfied with being merely transparent
to you. Whether I am here or not doesn’t
matter, so I guess I’ll slip away again into
another nondescript October. You
and I were never on the same page.
You were of the day and slept when I
thrived at night, and so I tried to put my
night life to bed and shake loose
some latent love for morning. How twisted
that I saw you clearly and never breathed
a word for change, and you never could accept
my eccentricities. You thought I was broken, thought
I was weak. I think you must not have looked
at me. I know what I am, and I am strong.
I know what I want, and I want to cherish
like you never could. You asked me to change,
to love less, to live less, to take less
and give less. Was it ever me you wanted?

My father always joked, You’ll miss me when I’m gone.
Then he died at thirty six and they understood.
I should break my heart as a precaution.
Could you ever understand the meaning
that lies beneath words? You never had a sense
of the sin of not living because you
never made any plans for dying.

You saw this, the thirst for life,
the need to relish... you knocked
it down and
so I hate you. I hate you,
and I hate all of this.

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

This is a re-write/edit. Input desired.

To Whom It May Concern:

Me and mornings aren’t exactly
on speaking terms anymore.
Forever was never something I wanted
but mutuality was too much to ask so
I guess I’ll slip away again into
another non-descript October.
You know my father always said,
You’ll miss me when I’m gone,
and then he died at thirty six.
I should break my heart as a precaution.
And you don’t have a sense of
the sin of never living because you
don’t have any plans for dying.
You saw this, the thirst for life,
the need to relish. You knocked
me down and
so I hate you. I hate you,
and I hate all of this.

Blah

Life sucks and Bush sucks and I can't write poetry for shit. Everyone else is so much better than I am, and all the homework is really heavy, and sometimes I can't even bear to open my notebook and look at what I wrote. It's pages and pages of things I don't want to think about, and blank pages I don't know how to fill. I just feel like my poetry is always the same, I want to do something different, something strange and beautiful and new.

Today I went to the Rally Against Bush, and it was really awesome. The Syracuse System Shakers were there, and so was Andy, the cute fiesty boy from my poetry class. That boy can argue with a brick wall, so long as a certain politician is drawn on it. ;-)

Well, I'm going to try and write last Tuesday's poem and go to bed. I think Manson will help me nicely, so...

Current Music: Personal Jesus by Marilyn Manson

So that people don't feel slighted...

Del,

There, I mentioned you, are you happy now?

xDDD

Seriously tho. <3 to Del.

(Now stop whining and adore my kitties!!)

Indigenous Peoples' Suffrage Day

This is how I spent my Indigenous Peoples' Suffrage Day (Columbus Day sends the wrong message, this cool Scot proposed a renaming of the holiday as a remembrance of the suffering of all indigenous peoples, because afterall, we're all indigenous to somewhere or other.)

The pet pictures are not todays. I just added them in for shits and giggles. The tree pic is from Saturday. All the others are from today. Today was just so fucking cool. Like, whoa seriously wickedly cool.

I saw Joanne Shenandoah! I got my pic taken with her! (And Holly too, but pretend like she's not there... lmfao, kidding Holls.) We're taking that pic to class Wednesday as our excuse for skipping. Should be entertaining.

I want to go to Peace Festivals more often.

Autumn at Pratt's falls, and my current desktop picture. 

This is Bigelow, the big one in the upper left with the brownish nose and snooty expression. Mini is smaller and you can see her tail. She's sniffing at Grace-abeth, the big red dog of love. 

Haha, you will be subject to more animal pictures. Voldemort is on top, looking evil, and Bigelow is curled up inside... also looking somewhat threatening. ;-) 

Grace-abeth, the big red dog of love. 

Duncan looking decidedly paranoid. 

Boogle glares hatefully at the camera.  

Mini is standing up, and Voldemort is laying down, looking evil, as usual. 

Bigelow, the baddest cat of the east. 

Shawn, Joanne Shenandoah, and my Mom. This is the second picture I took. Shawn blinked in the first one. So that's why they're laughing. XD 

Some of the people who attended. It's nice to be around people as weird as I am. 

Joanne Shenandoah is in the center. To the right, in the green, is her daughter Leah. To the left is Joanne's sister (I forgot her name...) 

Tipi with smoke coming out of it. Just a neat shot, there. There was a Dunkin' Donuts cup outside of the entrance. ;-) We all loves our coffee.

This is some wicked thing, and the platform hanging spins so the crystal bowls spin, and there's some guy who sits between the Egyptian boxes and hits them with these things and plays music... way cool. 

Me, Joanne Shenandoah, and Holly.  

Unlovable by Darren Hayes, music of the week

Are my lips unkissable?
Are my eyes unlookable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Am I unlovable?

Cynical, jaded, faithless, disappointed, disillusioned, used
If I could take back all my sweat, my tears, my sex, my joy I would
My time, my love, my effort, passion, dedication
In case of mistaken identity I gave these things to you
If I sound angry, bitter, sad, infatuated, it's the truth
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, just a few
Stages of acceptance that it's really over
It's just so complicated and I'm stupid for believing in you

You make me feel like my father never loved me
You make me feel like the act of love is empty
Am I so unlovable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?

I had your back, I held you up, I told you you were good enough
It was not reciprocated, you kept affection and yourself apart
You fed your love to me like crumbs to pigeons in the park
Sometimes I think you're satisfied to see me begging like a dog
I wasn't armoured, you were king, I gave my everything
Because sometimes you showed me just a hint of you and then
For just a moment I romanticised the notion
I can take away the torment, I can love you like they never did

You make me feel like my father never loved me (you never loved me)
You make me feel like the act of love is empty (I felt so empty)
Am I so unlovable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?

You make me feel like my mother, she abandoned me (you abandoned me)
You make me feel like the act of love is empty (I felt so empty)
Am I so unlovable?
Is my heart unbreakable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you despise?

Are my lips unkissable?
Are my eyes unlookable?
Is my sex undoable?
Am I unlovable?
Are my words unlistenable?
Are my hands untouchable?
Am I undesirable?
Am I unlovable?

You make me feel like my father never loved me
You make me feel like the act of love is empty
Am I so unlovable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?

You make me feel like my father never loved me (you never loved me)
You make me feel like the act of love is empty (I felt so empty)
Am I so unlovable?
Is my skin untouchable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you don't like?

You make me feel like my mother, she abandoned me (you abandoned me)
You make me feel like the act of love is empty (I felt so empty)
Am I so unlovable?
Is my heart unbreakable?
Do I remind you of a part of you that you despise?

You make me feel like my father never loved me (you never loved me)
You make me feel like my mother, she abandoned me (you abandoned me)
You make me feel like my father never loved me (you never loved me)
You make me feel like my mother, she abandoned me (you abandoned me)

A Day

Today was just a beautiful day. I woke up at home, and saw that it was probably going to be one of the last nice days we're going to have, and decided not to go back to the dorm. I told them I'd help them paint the kitchen later on if they took me to the park to shoot, and let me eat some real food. So we did that. I got to go off into the woods and do some shooting. Someone had left up these hunting targets, mooses and elk pictures on the hay bales. It kicked ass. I shot the antler on the elk, but for the most part got inside the target. So I'd say, for a year of not shooting, that's not half bad. I like to shoot in the course rather than on the practice field because it's more like the woods, and the cheaters with their compound bows are out on the field. I mean, really. If it folds up, locks drawn, and has a hole to look to line the shot, that aint shooting. Traditional all the way. My bow is a wooden recurve, doesn't fold, and to hold it drawn I have to keep it drawn with my hand anchored against my cheek. And I don't have any way to line the shot. I just have to look down the arrow. It's the way it should be. Everyone else are ninnies. (is ninnies? Is a ninny? I need an edit on that...)

Then we painted, and that was riotous amounts of fun. Honestly. I love painting. It's just so much fun, and I can see the kitchen all finished and looking awesome. It's great. Then mom made meat and pasta and omg it was the best food I've eaten in my life. And I got to play with my kittens, who are sad cause they were neutered. Min is sadder than Mort tho, and she's been hiding and cuddling up in hidey holes.

I am rejecting linear time and reverting to cosmic time.

I looked in the dictionary to find an explanation
Of why I feel like this, why the pain electrifies,
Helps me unwind. I wonder if I am
Still numb and if my heart will ever stop beating.

I don’t know what it means to feel,
And you don’t know what it means to bleed,
So what’s the point in all this screaming?
You aren’t listening anyway.

And I know that if I took the time
To read between all the lines,
I still couldn’t make you realize
Man was never beautiful.

School sucks

Schools sucks
School really sucks
Yep, it sucks real bad.
It really really sucks.

She wrote a poem, yay!

Sometimes you need to take a moment,

and step aside from what you're doing to empty your mind of things that are preventing productivity.

So I'd just like to rant for a while. (I can smell weed, btw) Not everything that happens, good or bad, needs ever be said again. Sometimes you can sort out your thoughts without text, but hey, if you need to write, try paper, try anonymity, try poetry... try song. Songs are poetry.

But what about the things that just aren't meant to be written?

The english language only has so many words, and to put something in words restricts it greatly. An experience, a feeling, a sensation... how do you express it? What words do you use? Can it be sorted out? Should it be?

Why would you want to pin something like that down? Why would you want to restrain it, make less of it? Cut it, dry it, hang it on the wall and understand it completely? Why not let it stay unknown, let it stay just like it is in that liminal moment, let it simmer in the back of your mind.

Does everything need to be written down and put out there for justification? Does everyone need to read about your life, just to make it real?

What if people stopped reading? Would you cease to be?

So you say you don't write to justify your existance. You write to update people. Let them know how you're doing. How much do they need to know? There is a certain line, a certain curtain that necessarily blocks the inner sanctum of a life from those beyond it. If you ever manage to step behind the curtain, take great care not to tear it down. It could be replaced with a wall.

I suppose what I'm really trying to say is that relationships are fragile. They should be between two people, and some things should just stay between those two people. Relationships should be seperate from friendships. Friends don't need to know everything. In the end, how badly do you want them to know? Enough to hurt the relationship? You can stand on the rooftops and yell to the world that you're happy without going deeper than that.

All of the perfection the human mind can handle

Sand castles with twigs in the towers.
A flower tucked behind your ear.
Spinning with your arms flung out,
forever and ever.
Innocence was such painful bliss.

Touching the sky without the fear of falling over

Nothing can happen
to my castles.
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me...
I never tire of the spinning feeling,
and forever is ever so far away.

At that moment that you realize that you are not exempt from dying

That kid just ran through
my castles in the sand, and
I can't bear to kill a daisy just
to adorn my hair. I know that
if I spin too long, I'll fall...

But oh, the falling.

Dear

Dear Sir,

We all grow older
and in the first scent of dying
youth you see reality.

Just let the air settle down. ---

Dear Forsaken,

If you only ever came in last,
know this;

In my letters you are the salutation
and the body
and the closing binds you to me. ---

Dear Friend,

If you never have another place to be,
you'’ll always have a home with me. ---

Dear Lover,

Who were you
before you were mine?


Love to last the journey,

C. E. King

Holy Fuck

First, I suppose that I ought to comment on Michael Moore. He kicked some serious ass. I don't care what anyone else thinks of him, last night he was really on the ball. I'll admit that he's usually very one sided, but he was very open minded. As Casey mentioned, he poked fun at democrats, commended republicans for their unrelenting drive, and didn't set Kerry on a throne. "Bush and Kerry both suck. That's why I'm voting for Kerry." He dubbed that our new slogan.

It was just one of those events that you had to see. Republican, democrat, liberal, radical, you had to go. Some day I'm going to tell my little blue-eyed bohemian urchins that I was there at the beginning of Michael Moore's tour, that it was amazing, and that no matter what anyone said about how biased he was, or how he played into our emotions just like any politician might, he is just what we need now. We need someone to go overboard with us, we need to see something horrific, something satirized, something more than life sized to pull our eyes away from our distractions. Whatever else he may not do, Moore gets the people to look, and to really see, and in today's world it's so rare.

Onwards to the title. Holy fuck...

Casey, that was absolutely beautiful. (If that was all just prompted by that Mooby hat, tho, I'm going to come over there and hurt you, lol.) I don't even know what to say, it was just amazing.

I wish I could say things just like that, but I can't. Poetry is so much easier because it says everything, but it doesn't say anything at all. I guess I am seriously trapped in our linguistic web of symbolic representation of meaning. (Reminder: English Major) It's almost fitting that people are starting to find out so soon, since it's moving fast anyways. But then again, I don't believe in time. It's why I can't wear watches. I won't be goverened by the minutes and the hours like the majority of people. At least, not until it becomes direly and tragically necessary. If we had to wait so many minutes to realize that something's real, and then so many more minutes (for propriety) to tell someone, while at the same time had so many minutes left until we stopped breathing... I don't want to know the numbers.

Three weeks or three years, what's the appropriate length of time to wait before you declare you're in love? How long until you know? There isn't a guidebook for things like that, so fuck the minutes. They're so short anyways, and who would waste time counting when you could be loving someone?

Here's to letting time go by with the ones you love.

My collage of life

Who were you
before you were mine?

Even the flowers
scream at the moonlight,
and I'm flying through the night
just to feel alive,
racing dangerously onwards
letting the daggers of cold
press into my flesh
just to feel,
just to relish being.

If you only ever came in last,
know this;

In my letters, you are the salutation
and the body
and the closing binds you to me.

The only p.s. would be just to tell you
I loved you,
one last time.

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

This is an edited version of my collection of things people have said, combined with things I might have said, or felt, or done, or thought. If there are places where people have cast you into shadow, I'll pull you into the light, and farther into my heart. If you weren't mentioned somewhere else once, I'll mention you a thousand times in a breath. If you never have another place to be, you'll always have a place with me.

Chaos Theory

Today was a damned good day. I got to spend time with good friends, and SU kicked Cincinatti's butt. Anne Marie came up from Massachusetts with her friend Dannielle, and we grabbed another friend, Liz, and went out to the Dinosaur BBQ. YUM!

All of the prevalent bikerness brought up my latent desire to own a chopper. Ah, to feel that much power between your legs....

After dinner, we went and rented the Butterfly Effect. That movie fucking rocks. I'm seriously considering setting some homework aside in favor of a little side research project about Chaos Theory. It's bound to come in handy somewhere.

Yay for good food, good friends, trippy movies, and Silent Bob.

Oh, the things you learn in the bathroom...

Alright, so I was on the way back from class, and I had to pee, so when I got to my floor, I went to do that. I had my keys in my hand, and stuck them in my ass pocket, and went into the stall. Everything was going just fine, until I stood up and realised that my lanyard, the neck part, had fallen into the toilet. Ew.

So I unclasped it, and decided to throw it away. Now, I'm in the market for a new lanyard, because... yea. Mine is out of commission.

Secondly, I've learned that masturbation isn't something shameful. It's not something to discourage, but it also shouldn't be done to the exclusion of other activities, like eating, sleeping, and the eternal pursuit of tail. "Masturbation cannot make you go blind, unless you are masturbating staring directly at the sun." Furthermore, it cannot make hair grow all over your body. "If it was true that masturbating made hair grow all over your body, I'd be masturbating right now."

Shout out to Fanelli, you rock. Keep proff'in.

Methods of procrastination

If you're considering, even for a moment, burning hair with your lighter, DON'T DO IT, MAN!

Three reasons not to burn ones own hair with ones own lighter:

1. It smells. Bad. Like burning bugs. (Whole nother story)
2. It looks nasty. Like dead bugs. (Same other story needed)
3. Eventually you try to burn hair that's attached, and that fucking hurts.

So if you're thinking about doing it, just think about me, and just say no to playing with lighters and hair.

Stronger than I used to be

What the hell, people? I mean it this time. I was driving my bike on the sidewalk, trying to go uphill, and everyone kept getting in the way so much that I couldn't gain the momentum to get to the top. I just gave up and walked it up the hill. I mean, Jesus, move your fucking asses. Goddamned deer in headlights.

Someone's gonna go down.

I feel like I'm invisible sometimes. I step onto the sidewalk, and have to fall over myself so that people don't crash into me, with that look on their face that makes it clear that no ones home.

And then to top it off, this morning my bike was heavier than yesterday, somehow, making it a mild challenge to drag up the stairs. It's just being one of those days, and it's only 10:30.

Moreover, someone is trying to talk me out of the tattoo. Grr. I think I'm gonna go lay down and possibly read before poetry class.

Alive

Who put these bodies between us?
That anguish of concreteness,
echoed a thousand times between
broken reflections of sky.
And why? Shatter my Eden
for your selfish reason.
Touch the moon and sing,
spiral low. The finger presses
to my lips,
silence the screaming
I am happy.
Ghost to ghost I see right through
your eyes are no disguise.
Underestimate the power of the living,
they are truly dead.

Thank you

Dear God,

Thank you for providing what I've needed, and even more than that, thank you for answering that prayer from a few years ago.

And also, thank you for letting me get away with stealing that chair. I'll make it up to you.

Noitch.

(Can you say noitch to God?)

Ladies, ladies, ladies! The 'Cuse is in the HIZZOUSE!

Rant of the day: Why can't the people at the front desk give you change for a fucking 5? Against policy? Well, now I have the remains of 5 dollars in quarters that I'll be carting around for the rest of my natural life. Or till the next laundry day.

Idiotic moment of the day: I got soda in my nose. That shit stings, man. I mean, I just did it now, between the last paragraph and this one. I took a drink of my soda and it went up my nose. Talk about snorting coke.

Sub-rant of the day: People suck. Especially ones in the laundry room that expect that you can see over your laundry to avoid hitting them while they meander about.

It's nice outside. I think that later on I'll go out for a bike ride. Who knows where that could lead. ;-)

Damn yous all to hell!

I'd like to begin this new blog with a rant, of sorts. What the hell is up with you f#*!ing pedestrians?! Are you mental? Jesus Christ. To someone on a bike, you're all fucking retards. None of you walk at a predictable pace, and you leap out randomly into my path. It's like you want to die. Well guess what. Next time, your wish is my command.

I'd like to add, tho this will be most appreciated by those in my Addiction class, that I'm aware that online blogs are just another form of confessionalism. I don't intend, however, to use this blog to validate my emotions. I can feel without it, and I can handle my emotions without it, as well. This is just a toy, a pasttime, a place to rant and maybe put up a poem or two.

Think what you like, this is here for my entertainment only.