Schools sucks
School really sucks
Yep, it sucks real bad.
It really really sucks.
She wrote a poem, yay!
Monday, September 27, 2004
Sunday, September 26, 2004
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.
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.
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.
Friday, September 24, 2004
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
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
Thursday, September 23, 2004
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.
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.
Monday, September 20, 2004
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.
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.
Sunday, September 19, 2004
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
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.
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.
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.
Monday, September 13, 2004
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?)
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?)
Saturday, September 11, 2004
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. ;-)
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. ;-)
Thursday, September 09, 2004
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)