made a new friend shortly
found a house to live in
traveling by train is nifty
ml is crazy, mostly in a good way
going to tbird's wedding saturday is gonna be hectic
everything is falling to bits and pieces because i'm too shellshocked to handle everything that needs to be done
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
i hate to admit i took this quiz....
Your Score: Ranger
You scored 10 Holy, 63 Tactful, 90 Natural, and 35 Arcane!
Hmm, you've got the skills, nobody can deny that. You're a hard nut to crack in a fight, you can hound an enemy like no other, you have a connection to the wilderness that borders on supernatural, and the animals back home love you. Don't be fooled by LOTR though, you are not a natural leader. In fact, you're probably a bit of a recluse, and you are reasonably rash. You gave up understanding why humans treat each other so needlessly bad a long time ago, and have just decided to do what you can for the defenseless of us by savaging the people that harm what you love. If everyone were like you this world would be a great place... but since it's not, better get back to hunting evildoers... with uncanny intensity.
| Link: The Which D & D Class am I Test written by effataigus on OkCupid, home of the The Dating Persona Test |
Sunday, May 20, 2007
"changes are no good"
Changing.
Isn't that humanity's strongest power?
It's certainly what differentiates us from other animals, other species. We can adapt so quickly, so easily, that we have become the dominant species on this planet. While other creatures have taken hundreds of years or millenia to adapt, we can do it in a relative snap of the fingers, changing habits, skull size, go from four feet to two, develop opposable thumbs, in the time it takes most living beings to think about maybe becoming different.
Change.
People say that's what is so tragic about murder. The killer takes away a person's ability to change, to do something differently, to become someone different, soemone new tomorrow. But do we ever really change? Once, someone said to me that we humans tend to emphasize what's different, what's disappeared, reappeared, or been created rather than what's stayed the same. What do you see first when you go home, the old rickety barn or the newly developed stores and subdivisions? What do you see when you look in your parents' eyes, the same old flecks or soemthing strange and new?
Changes.
I've never been too good at them. A teacher once told me on NELP that I need to let go, that the reason I felt pain was because I couldn't just let things change, I had to grind my teeth and try to stop things from changing all the time. Was it just bullshit? To be realistic, that statement probably applied then, but it probably doesn't now, because I've changed. Or have I? I think I've spent my whole life crying over spilt milk, from Morris the cat spread over 20 feet of cement on a sunny day to my friends being far away.
Changes are no good.
I want to let go, but I never felt anything so strong as the friendships I felt before. I've tried to make new ones, but it's all so shallow, like wallowing in a kiddy pool after swimming in the ocean. Being an adult has only taught me one thing: don't let the good things pass by you. Because they're so rare, so delicate, that you can neither force them nor drop them like old luggage. If you do, once you realize what you've lost, the gift is already broken and you'll get locked out of the house you've built around yourself. So don't tell me to let go again, at the drop of a hat; change may be humanity's greatest power, maybe even one of mine, but so is recognizing what's worth saving.
Isn't that humanity's strongest power?
It's certainly what differentiates us from other animals, other species. We can adapt so quickly, so easily, that we have become the dominant species on this planet. While other creatures have taken hundreds of years or millenia to adapt, we can do it in a relative snap of the fingers, changing habits, skull size, go from four feet to two, develop opposable thumbs, in the time it takes most living beings to think about maybe becoming different.
Change.
People say that's what is so tragic about murder. The killer takes away a person's ability to change, to do something differently, to become someone different, soemone new tomorrow. But do we ever really change? Once, someone said to me that we humans tend to emphasize what's different, what's disappeared, reappeared, or been created rather than what's stayed the same. What do you see first when you go home, the old rickety barn or the newly developed stores and subdivisions? What do you see when you look in your parents' eyes, the same old flecks or soemthing strange and new?
Changes.
I've never been too good at them. A teacher once told me on NELP that I need to let go, that the reason I felt pain was because I couldn't just let things change, I had to grind my teeth and try to stop things from changing all the time. Was it just bullshit? To be realistic, that statement probably applied then, but it probably doesn't now, because I've changed. Or have I? I think I've spent my whole life crying over spilt milk, from Morris the cat spread over 20 feet of cement on a sunny day to my friends being far away.
Changes are no good.
I want to let go, but I never felt anything so strong as the friendships I felt before. I've tried to make new ones, but it's all so shallow, like wallowing in a kiddy pool after swimming in the ocean. Being an adult has only taught me one thing: don't let the good things pass by you. Because they're so rare, so delicate, that you can neither force them nor drop them like old luggage. If you do, once you realize what you've lost, the gift is already broken and you'll get locked out of the house you've built around yourself. So don't tell me to let go again, at the drop of a hat; change may be humanity's greatest power, maybe even one of mine, but so is recognizing what's worth saving.
Monday, May 14, 2007
.-.
"you make choices every day
you choose what to wear, what to eat, what to do
where to go, you remake yourself everyday
if you don't like the choices you're making
then make different ones"
-roughly quoted from sara
everyone has warned me not to get too personal on here
so all i'll say is that lately i've felt exiled, like being in Indiana is my punishment for something, for not being good enough, for being better than others, for something
at the same time, i feel my friends moving farther into the ether, farther away from me
i feel my dreams disappearing or becoming unrealistic
i'm giving up on them
i can't seem to do anything at all---i feel utterly incompetent
i couldn't buy glasses on my own (i got ripped off), i couldn't not-spend-money when i needed to (i went to whole foods), i couldn't search for apartments competently, i couldn't find a job for the fall, i couldn't even throw my phone at the couch (it hit the wall instead)
but sara made the mental wounds feel smaller, less malevolent, more day-to-day
i've just got to be strong and have more faith in myself
which is terribly difficult when one has just purchased a new pair of somewhat flashy glasses (tho that's merely a glib remark to lighten this gloomy post)
you choose what to wear, what to eat, what to do
where to go, you remake yourself everyday
if you don't like the choices you're making
then make different ones"
-roughly quoted from sara
everyone has warned me not to get too personal on here
so all i'll say is that lately i've felt exiled, like being in Indiana is my punishment for something, for not being good enough, for being better than others, for something
at the same time, i feel my friends moving farther into the ether, farther away from me
i feel my dreams disappearing or becoming unrealistic
i'm giving up on them
i can't seem to do anything at all---i feel utterly incompetent
i couldn't buy glasses on my own (i got ripped off), i couldn't not-spend-money when i needed to (i went to whole foods), i couldn't search for apartments competently, i couldn't find a job for the fall, i couldn't even throw my phone at the couch (it hit the wall instead)
but sara made the mental wounds feel smaller, less malevolent, more day-to-day
i've just got to be strong and have more faith in myself
which is terribly difficult when one has just purchased a new pair of somewhat flashy glasses (tho that's merely a glib remark to lighten this gloomy post)
Friday, May 04, 2007
bff
What do Spiderman 3, Shaun of the Dead, and the basic premise of Superman have in common with a number of other shows/tv/storylines? No, not spandex; i'm not sure that was even in the second.
Friends. Best friends, to be specific. Male best friends, to be even more specific. Harry Osborn, Shaun's rommate, and Jimmy Olson. Best friends each doomed to their own version of hell.
In Spiderman 3, we watch as Harry finally confronts his deep-seated fear that he allowed his father to die, and realizes again that his actual fear is not being his father's son, only to realize that he was in fact good enough, good enough for his friends. Meanwhile, Mary Jane and Pete are doing their regular doomsday dance, bouncing off of one another's hormones and uncommunicated thougts like pinballs. In the final fight, Pete turns to his best friend for help, and we finally see what lies behind all the fighting, the arguments, and the hatred: 3 good friends who need each other to live.
Only to watch moments later as Harry dies, leaving Mary Jane and Pete to repopulate the earth. Oh, wait, no, that was just implied.
In Shaun of the Dead, the best friend only holds the main character down, but, when he realizes this, he gives the Couple the chance to survive by dying, becoming a christ-like novelty in the process. IN the end, though, he lives on as a zombie-toy-playmate for the main character. The BF has to die for the couple to survive, and even if he is able to 'keep in touch', he's religated to an objectified status, a toy, a novelty for escapism from marriage.
Superman's pal Jimmy Olsen suffers a far worse fate, being second-rate forever. He is the second choice, the almost-macho guy who cannot be best, and isn't a villain, who must forever support the main couple. Even alive, the BF is merely a flying buttress of support, unable to move, unable to become his own person.
This is because the BF, in the male form, is a source of suspciion. Why doesn't he find his own girlfriend? Is he gay? Does he want one or both of the Couple members? Will he endanger our ability to breed?! GASP! DROOL! WHAT ARE WE TO DO?
What's wrong with him and how does the girlfriend rid herself of this paranoia? Not by being sane, that's for sure. Instead, alienate the main male from the friend, or, even better, create an expectation that the friend will sacrifice himself for the couple, as we see written into so many films that it makes me barf.
What happens when that BF position changes, you might ask. Is there hope for we male-gendered friends?
In X-men 3, Wolverine, the best friend/competition, lives. He even manages to make it past the lame-ass ending where Brett Ratner and Fox kill off any chance for X-men as a franchise to remain interesting. In the process, though, he must kill the woman he might have loved, and the woman that his friend Cyke did love. Scott in the meantime was molecule-ized by his lover; only when the main couple is dead can the best friend live. In X-men the comic, there is at least some hope, in that Wolverine lives often quite separate from Scott and Jean, but that oft-oggled redhead still dies over and over. It seems that the cost of the male best friend living at all is the perpetual death of the functioning, fertile couple. (Although, thankfully, Emma Frost steps in with her strong feminity that remains outside gender norms to manipulate Scott out of this ridiculously old and stale myth of BFF threats).
In Slither and 28 days, the best friend dies, to be replaced by a fill-in, a child, a young girl to be accurate. Thus, the family becomes the model, and the BF is not even necessary. In the place of all those nights of video games and fun, have some dirty diapers jackass (although in both of these films the 'daughter' character is old enough to experience some icky daddy love, godihopenot).
Why does this even matter, you might ask?
Because people live their lives according to movies and stories. What we can imagine is the limit of our ambition. SO FUCKING MANY of my friends have blown me off once they find a COUPLE to be in---if I were to stick around, they must imagine, what would stop me from threatening their relationship with my gooey-sticky hormones? (which by the by, this particular person is not stupid enough to constantly give in to like some predestined fate; the wrong or right action is an individual choice----SIDENOTE: one of my sister's students answered a question by stating that sex is ipmossible to predict and just happens at any point that it wants to happen---imagine walking down the street every day and just finding yourself organsmic and naked...yikes!)
So stop letting corporate money-making machines tell you what to imagine. There are so many places to look for friends who live and help a couple or just live their own lives. See your LIFE first and foremost. YOur friends are real and there and not forever, so care about them and love them. DOn't just use them to keep you safe. See Buffy, Angel, Firefly (ok, just Joss Whedon, huh)----the point being that you choose what to imagine by choosing which stories to hear. Choose wisely, or you will not only lose your friends, as illustrated in so many films/stories/life in general, but you will also lose your lover and eventually yourself. For what is a person without friends?
A corporation. A ghost. A person who sees only the world through one set of eyes. And if you value that, you might as well poke out your eyes and be blind already.
Friends. Best friends, to be specific. Male best friends, to be even more specific. Harry Osborn, Shaun's rommate, and Jimmy Olson. Best friends each doomed to their own version of hell.
In Spiderman 3, we watch as Harry finally confronts his deep-seated fear that he allowed his father to die, and realizes again that his actual fear is not being his father's son, only to realize that he was in fact good enough, good enough for his friends. Meanwhile, Mary Jane and Pete are doing their regular doomsday dance, bouncing off of one another's hormones and uncommunicated thougts like pinballs. In the final fight, Pete turns to his best friend for help, and we finally see what lies behind all the fighting, the arguments, and the hatred: 3 good friends who need each other to live.
Only to watch moments later as Harry dies, leaving Mary Jane and Pete to repopulate the earth. Oh, wait, no, that was just implied.
In Shaun of the Dead, the best friend only holds the main character down, but, when he realizes this, he gives the Couple the chance to survive by dying, becoming a christ-like novelty in the process. IN the end, though, he lives on as a zombie-toy-playmate for the main character. The BF has to die for the couple to survive, and even if he is able to 'keep in touch', he's religated to an objectified status, a toy, a novelty for escapism from marriage.
Superman's pal Jimmy Olsen suffers a far worse fate, being second-rate forever. He is the second choice, the almost-macho guy who cannot be best, and isn't a villain, who must forever support the main couple. Even alive, the BF is merely a flying buttress of support, unable to move, unable to become his own person.
This is because the BF, in the male form, is a source of suspciion. Why doesn't he find his own girlfriend? Is he gay? Does he want one or both of the Couple members? Will he endanger our ability to breed?! GASP! DROOL! WHAT ARE WE TO DO?
What's wrong with him and how does the girlfriend rid herself of this paranoia? Not by being sane, that's for sure. Instead, alienate the main male from the friend, or, even better, create an expectation that the friend will sacrifice himself for the couple, as we see written into so many films that it makes me barf.
What happens when that BF position changes, you might ask. Is there hope for we male-gendered friends?
In X-men 3, Wolverine, the best friend/competition, lives. He even manages to make it past the lame-ass ending where Brett Ratner and Fox kill off any chance for X-men as a franchise to remain interesting. In the process, though, he must kill the woman he might have loved, and the woman that his friend Cyke did love. Scott in the meantime was molecule-ized by his lover; only when the main couple is dead can the best friend live. In X-men the comic, there is at least some hope, in that Wolverine lives often quite separate from Scott and Jean, but that oft-oggled redhead still dies over and over. It seems that the cost of the male best friend living at all is the perpetual death of the functioning, fertile couple. (Although, thankfully, Emma Frost steps in with her strong feminity that remains outside gender norms to manipulate Scott out of this ridiculously old and stale myth of BFF threats).
In Slither and 28 days, the best friend dies, to be replaced by a fill-in, a child, a young girl to be accurate. Thus, the family becomes the model, and the BF is not even necessary. In the place of all those nights of video games and fun, have some dirty diapers jackass (although in both of these films the 'daughter' character is old enough to experience some icky daddy love, godihopenot).
Why does this even matter, you might ask?
Because people live their lives according to movies and stories. What we can imagine is the limit of our ambition. SO FUCKING MANY of my friends have blown me off once they find a COUPLE to be in---if I were to stick around, they must imagine, what would stop me from threatening their relationship with my gooey-sticky hormones? (which by the by, this particular person is not stupid enough to constantly give in to like some predestined fate; the wrong or right action is an individual choice----SIDENOTE: one of my sister's students answered a question by stating that sex is ipmossible to predict and just happens at any point that it wants to happen---imagine walking down the street every day and just finding yourself organsmic and naked...yikes!)
So stop letting corporate money-making machines tell you what to imagine. There are so many places to look for friends who live and help a couple or just live their own lives. See your LIFE first and foremost. YOur friends are real and there and not forever, so care about them and love them. DOn't just use them to keep you safe. See Buffy, Angel, Firefly (ok, just Joss Whedon, huh)----the point being that you choose what to imagine by choosing which stories to hear. Choose wisely, or you will not only lose your friends, as illustrated in so many films/stories/life in general, but you will also lose your lover and eventually yourself. For what is a person without friends?
A corporation. A ghost. A person who sees only the world through one set of eyes. And if you value that, you might as well poke out your eyes and be blind already.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Sunday, April 29, 2007
summer plans
ml and d came to visit out of nowhere
although they did call me Thursday to say they were coming
i'm realizing how much teaching, working, and writing papers all at once, with very very little social interaction is driving me to the brinks of insanity
and how much i enjoy talking to people, and living with people in the short term at least
i'm looking forward to this summer; the plan so far is:
1. work for may/june
2. attend nelp-like course for 2 weeks
3. spend 2 more weeks in indiana with my friend s
4. go to michigan for tbird's wedding, maybe stay there until august, when i need to meet up with b and figure out how to meet up with r at some point
in short, busy, wonderful, etc
although i'm hoping i get to go to boston with the rentals this july instead of sitting around michigan or bton
and i'm gonna finally get around to writing/drawing the graphic novel....as well as hopefully a weaving project i've thinking about doing for weeks now
what are you up to?
although they did call me Thursday to say they were coming
i'm realizing how much teaching, working, and writing papers all at once, with very very little social interaction is driving me to the brinks of insanity
and how much i enjoy talking to people, and living with people in the short term at least
i'm looking forward to this summer; the plan so far is:
1. work for may/june
2. attend nelp-like course for 2 weeks
3. spend 2 more weeks in indiana with my friend s
4. go to michigan for tbird's wedding, maybe stay there until august, when i need to meet up with b and figure out how to meet up with r at some point
in short, busy, wonderful, etc
although i'm hoping i get to go to boston with the rentals this july instead of sitting around michigan or bton
and i'm gonna finally get around to writing/drawing the graphic novel....as well as hopefully a weaving project i've thinking about doing for weeks now
what are you up to?
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
sprung
"spring is super in super markets
and the strawberries prance and glow
nevermind that they're all
kinda tart and tasteless as strawberries go
meanwhile, the wild things are not for sale
anymore than they are for show
so i'll be outside
in love with the kind of beauty
it takes more than eyes to know
just show me a moment that's mine
that's beauty shinging and unsurpassed
and i'll forget every moment that went by
and left me so half-hearted
cuz i felt it so half-assed"
ani difranco - half-assed
and the strawberries prance and glow
nevermind that they're all
kinda tart and tasteless as strawberries go
meanwhile, the wild things are not for sale
anymore than they are for show
so i'll be outside
in love with the kind of beauty
it takes more than eyes to know
just show me a moment that's mine
that's beauty shinging and unsurpassed
and i'll forget every moment that went by
and left me so half-hearted
cuz i felt it so half-assed"
ani difranco - half-assed
you had time
today i said that the way to address human rights while recognizing that what we, as researchers, see as a problem may not be in fact a problem
is
to provide the tools for change, to give people the insights and the knowledge to make things better, but not to take the action ourselves unless specifically asked and given that it's the only way to do it
because people are people, t hey control their own destinies, and the emotion has to be there for change to be made
but i don't know that i really felt it
i wish i could dive head first into an anlysis of human rights theory and problems with cultural things like female circumcision and other stuff.....but i just don't have it in me
i don't feel it because our generation in general has so little hope
Where former generations could look to the American Dream, or to the ability to move up in social standing, or the ability to go somewhere else and start over again, or the potential for leavin the country and coming up, or the potential for apprenticeship, the power of knowledge, etc
we are left with only one option: join the work force or perish
Academe is no longer safe, if it ever was. More and more schools are changing the structure of departments so that only non-tenure-track positions are available---their reasoning is that more efficiency and better products can be produced by minimizing pay/etc. for the workforce. And people are so fatalistic that few rebel, while everyone bitches. Sure it's a problem, but why should i have to deal with it?
Given 1: One must find a job or else face poverty, homelessness,e tc. Or attempt to find a life outside of the mainstream, which becomes more and more of a problem since so few exist there, and the lines across have been mostly cut off or blocked by corporations that benefit from cheap, desperate, drugged labor.
In the meantime, one could at least hope that by advocating chagne in daily life, with one's friends, aquaintances, and students that change could be accomplished. Even if the world isn't made better in my generation, at least the next could do something better.
So all my teachers in grade school and undergrad passed the torch that is hope for the future to me and my classmates, which leads us to the problem that is Given 2.
Given 2: People are idiots. We have all been trained to care as long as something is not immediate or directly affecting us. Even if it is immeidately affecting us, television and everything else tells us not to care, that our life is more important, that it's not our responsibility.
We are not responsible, so let's just enjoy the ride.
Thus, my students claim that arguing for an issue doens't matter cuz no one can do anything. My father tells me he can't change his diet becuase he will die anyway. I tell myself that I am inherently broken so I don't have to feel bad about not being an activist.
Someone else will pick up the slack.
BUT THEY WON"T.
Given 3: EVERYONE is lazy, even the active, impatiently energized people in the world. No one does anything beyond what is necessary, as even what is necessary (assignments, etc) can only be the lowest rung to be reached, else daddy's little sorostitute wouldn't be able to get anywhere in life but the brothel.
So jobs become less about skill and mroe about connections. Real skills are downplayed in favor of bullshit. Politicians generally know little to nothing about the world, only about their need to get higher up so they can continue their job.
We didn't help people in Rwanda during the genocide because we didn't have to. It wasn't our responsibility.
Given 4: The world is in pain. We have shat on it, poured nuclear waste into the atmosphere and soil, pissed emissions into the air, dumped our stinky cheese-like trash into dumps, leaking every bit and piece of acid and paper into the rest of the world. Animals that are not us are dying. People in not the U.S. and people who are not-us are dying, suffering, watching children suffer from genetic problems, healthy issues.
Watch as your child pukes blood, watch the tumors grow on the toes of the earth, the poor, the threatened, the endangered.
It's okay, modern medicine and politics will just cut the toe off. We can make a new one, one made out of plastic that will kill you even more, until your whole leg is plastic, until we are gone, leaving plastic and metal everywhere where once there were stories and songs and birds singing and lizards eating flies and blood pouring into the heart of something.
Result: No one does anything and we die.
WRONG
As a panel on the future of the planet stated recently "people can't be that stupid".
Or can they?
Will you do anything differntly, or will you hold up your hands and say " hey, i gotta go finish more important things"
and forget your recycling in the trash
and leave the battery on teh ground
and buy books and cds with your money
and spend time chatting on aim rather than sending emails to elected officials
and leave me with acid in my mouth
so do we have the smarts to do the right thing? will we use the tools to change things or let our planet die beneath our feet, let ourselves die, let people be murdered, covering it all up with bullshit and excuses?
i'm tired
i'm bored
i'm spiritually exhausted
and i have no hope
so give me some...
is
to provide the tools for change, to give people the insights and the knowledge to make things better, but not to take the action ourselves unless specifically asked and given that it's the only way to do it
because people are people, t hey control their own destinies, and the emotion has to be there for change to be made
but i don't know that i really felt it
i wish i could dive head first into an anlysis of human rights theory and problems with cultural things like female circumcision and other stuff.....but i just don't have it in me
i don't feel it because our generation in general has so little hope
Where former generations could look to the American Dream, or to the ability to move up in social standing, or the ability to go somewhere else and start over again, or the potential for leavin the country and coming up, or the potential for apprenticeship, the power of knowledge, etc
we are left with only one option: join the work force or perish
Academe is no longer safe, if it ever was. More and more schools are changing the structure of departments so that only non-tenure-track positions are available---their reasoning is that more efficiency and better products can be produced by minimizing pay/etc. for the workforce. And people are so fatalistic that few rebel, while everyone bitches. Sure it's a problem, but why should i have to deal with it?
Given 1: One must find a job or else face poverty, homelessness,e tc. Or attempt to find a life outside of the mainstream, which becomes more and more of a problem since so few exist there, and the lines across have been mostly cut off or blocked by corporations that benefit from cheap, desperate, drugged labor.
In the meantime, one could at least hope that by advocating chagne in daily life, with one's friends, aquaintances, and students that change could be accomplished. Even if the world isn't made better in my generation, at least the next could do something better.
So all my teachers in grade school and undergrad passed the torch that is hope for the future to me and my classmates, which leads us to the problem that is Given 2.
Given 2: People are idiots. We have all been trained to care as long as something is not immediate or directly affecting us. Even if it is immeidately affecting us, television and everything else tells us not to care, that our life is more important, that it's not our responsibility.
We are not responsible, so let's just enjoy the ride.
Thus, my students claim that arguing for an issue doens't matter cuz no one can do anything. My father tells me he can't change his diet becuase he will die anyway. I tell myself that I am inherently broken so I don't have to feel bad about not being an activist.
Someone else will pick up the slack.
BUT THEY WON"T.
Given 3: EVERYONE is lazy, even the active, impatiently energized people in the world. No one does anything beyond what is necessary, as even what is necessary (assignments, etc) can only be the lowest rung to be reached, else daddy's little sorostitute wouldn't be able to get anywhere in life but the brothel.
So jobs become less about skill and mroe about connections. Real skills are downplayed in favor of bullshit. Politicians generally know little to nothing about the world, only about their need to get higher up so they can continue their job.
We didn't help people in Rwanda during the genocide because we didn't have to. It wasn't our responsibility.
Given 4: The world is in pain. We have shat on it, poured nuclear waste into the atmosphere and soil, pissed emissions into the air, dumped our stinky cheese-like trash into dumps, leaking every bit and piece of acid and paper into the rest of the world. Animals that are not us are dying. People in not the U.S. and people who are not-us are dying, suffering, watching children suffer from genetic problems, healthy issues.
Watch as your child pukes blood, watch the tumors grow on the toes of the earth, the poor, the threatened, the endangered.
It's okay, modern medicine and politics will just cut the toe off. We can make a new one, one made out of plastic that will kill you even more, until your whole leg is plastic, until we are gone, leaving plastic and metal everywhere where once there were stories and songs and birds singing and lizards eating flies and blood pouring into the heart of something.
Result: No one does anything and we die.
WRONG
As a panel on the future of the planet stated recently "people can't be that stupid".
Or can they?
Will you do anything differntly, or will you hold up your hands and say " hey, i gotta go finish more important things"
and forget your recycling in the trash
and leave the battery on teh ground
and buy books and cds with your money
and spend time chatting on aim rather than sending emails to elected officials
and leave me with acid in my mouth
so do we have the smarts to do the right thing? will we use the tools to change things or let our planet die beneath our feet, let ourselves die, let people be murdered, covering it all up with bullshit and excuses?
i'm tired
i'm bored
i'm spiritually exhausted
and i have no hope
so give me some...
Thursday, April 05, 2007
long way home
do we ever go home?
i remember once i did, and a few times before that, when i was younger. my dad used to carry me into our house, lay me down in bed, and tuck me in, this from the same guy who regularly cussed out the refridgerator. i remember going home from university and feeling safe and sound and sane. then i got crazy every time i went home. then i got sane again. now i feel neither.
when i was in high school, i used to run around the yard and chase myself through every room in the house until i ended up falling asleep on the couch. i remember being strange and silly and flighty but interestingly, constantly changing. it was like watching a kaleidoscope. home was where that all melted away, eventually, through pain and struggle and love and too much food. at the end of the night, sleepless or no, the sun rose and the birds sang. i could find thomas the cat waiting in the wings, ready for me to finally give up and say uncle. say that here i am, home again, ready to fall into the arms of those i love.
then my dad got lymphoma. i couldn't trust the one thing i had for so long, that my dad, yelling and being stupid and funny all at once, would catch me if i asked. he would tell me that things would work out, take me to a movie if i was sad and lonely. he would drive me around for hours until the screaming voices in my head (not real, metaphorical) finally shut up.
then, in a minute on the phone, he was gone. not really, but the he that could hold me up. suddenly, i had be a flying buttress, not the tapestry. home was a new set of worries, concerns, not a place to fall away from things and the shiny performance of life. a new drama, a new play.
one i could barely follow.
then my mom got cancer too, and my siblings call me all the time to tell me how we have to be there for them, but when i see them...when i see them, for a little while, we're just the same people we ever were, fucked up and gloriously complicated, kind and hurtful, well-intentioned or not. for a minute, then it's gone. i'm the oh-so-sensitive, sexually and religiously ambiguous creature treading carefully around the respect for the dead, for the will-be-dead-soon, for the strangely imperfect ghosts of other people i'm not supposed to love too much.
but they're alive, and i don't know how to deal with that. that's the funny thing, thinking of going home for easter. i can handle being alone, being hurt, and being lost; it's easy enough to give up. but, like the new spring, it's so fucking hard to just begin again, to accept that maybe things will turn out all right.
people fuck you over. people are shitty. people are dumb and make mistakes. so how do i deal with people who, despite my insistence, say welcome home, things'll turn out okay, you'll see, get some rest and it'll all clear up. even if they turn around and screw you over by accident.
so simple, so ridiculously more complex than giving up.
so i'm going home for easter, and i don't really want to. i don't want to face my parents who seem more and more ghost-like, like voices in the back of my mind.
the other day my father answered the phone, and the tone in his voice sounded like it did when my mom is in the hospital but he doesn't want me to know. it wasn't that though, he just didn't know where she was (groceries). but i was so ready to let go. so ready it scares me.
the world is a shitty place. we've transformed everything so that even the environment is killing itself---the ecosystems and plants that can't live with human structures will fall, then the human structures that can't live with those plants will die, and then we'll have to start all over
but the we will change----the frost outside is killing the buds of spring, and in my mind, i've watched the people i lvoe die a million times---so it comes down to this: why am i so willing to let go? is it something in our society? is it my own pessimism (the same voice that tells me my friends will betray and abandon, despite my better instincts)?
or is it something more sinister, something in the system i'm trying to succeed in? seomthing that tells me i'm an adult now, i'm changing, i have to become something stolid and solid and cruel, something sad and lonely, with a wife and 2.5 kids some day, who never does the million things he dreamt he might do, someone who looks at his parents, says goodbye when they wrinkle, and moves on to the next fad---someone who can say goodbye in the time it takes to drive to work, to give a paper
and start the work day all over again
i remember once i did, and a few times before that, when i was younger. my dad used to carry me into our house, lay me down in bed, and tuck me in, this from the same guy who regularly cussed out the refridgerator. i remember going home from university and feeling safe and sound and sane. then i got crazy every time i went home. then i got sane again. now i feel neither.
when i was in high school, i used to run around the yard and chase myself through every room in the house until i ended up falling asleep on the couch. i remember being strange and silly and flighty but interestingly, constantly changing. it was like watching a kaleidoscope. home was where that all melted away, eventually, through pain and struggle and love and too much food. at the end of the night, sleepless or no, the sun rose and the birds sang. i could find thomas the cat waiting in the wings, ready for me to finally give up and say uncle. say that here i am, home again, ready to fall into the arms of those i love.
then my dad got lymphoma. i couldn't trust the one thing i had for so long, that my dad, yelling and being stupid and funny all at once, would catch me if i asked. he would tell me that things would work out, take me to a movie if i was sad and lonely. he would drive me around for hours until the screaming voices in my head (not real, metaphorical) finally shut up.
then, in a minute on the phone, he was gone. not really, but the he that could hold me up. suddenly, i had be a flying buttress, not the tapestry. home was a new set of worries, concerns, not a place to fall away from things and the shiny performance of life. a new drama, a new play.
one i could barely follow.
then my mom got cancer too, and my siblings call me all the time to tell me how we have to be there for them, but when i see them...when i see them, for a little while, we're just the same people we ever were, fucked up and gloriously complicated, kind and hurtful, well-intentioned or not. for a minute, then it's gone. i'm the oh-so-sensitive, sexually and religiously ambiguous creature treading carefully around the respect for the dead, for the will-be-dead-soon, for the strangely imperfect ghosts of other people i'm not supposed to love too much.
but they're alive, and i don't know how to deal with that. that's the funny thing, thinking of going home for easter. i can handle being alone, being hurt, and being lost; it's easy enough to give up. but, like the new spring, it's so fucking hard to just begin again, to accept that maybe things will turn out all right.
people fuck you over. people are shitty. people are dumb and make mistakes. so how do i deal with people who, despite my insistence, say welcome home, things'll turn out okay, you'll see, get some rest and it'll all clear up. even if they turn around and screw you over by accident.
so simple, so ridiculously more complex than giving up.
so i'm going home for easter, and i don't really want to. i don't want to face my parents who seem more and more ghost-like, like voices in the back of my mind.
the other day my father answered the phone, and the tone in his voice sounded like it did when my mom is in the hospital but he doesn't want me to know. it wasn't that though, he just didn't know where she was (groceries). but i was so ready to let go. so ready it scares me.
the world is a shitty place. we've transformed everything so that even the environment is killing itself---the ecosystems and plants that can't live with human structures will fall, then the human structures that can't live with those plants will die, and then we'll have to start all over
but the we will change----the frost outside is killing the buds of spring, and in my mind, i've watched the people i lvoe die a million times---so it comes down to this: why am i so willing to let go? is it something in our society? is it my own pessimism (the same voice that tells me my friends will betray and abandon, despite my better instincts)?
or is it something more sinister, something in the system i'm trying to succeed in? seomthing that tells me i'm an adult now, i'm changing, i have to become something stolid and solid and cruel, something sad and lonely, with a wife and 2.5 kids some day, who never does the million things he dreamt he might do, someone who looks at his parents, says goodbye when they wrinkle, and moves on to the next fad---someone who can say goodbye in the time it takes to drive to work, to give a paper
and start the work day all over again
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
in love with illusion
so saw me in half
what's really better? spending 4 hours laboring over a master's thesis that seems like it will never amount to anything once it's done, or watching 4 hours of buffy season 6 that makes me feel emotion again?
I think that's what's bothering me lately, on top of not sleeping enough. i feel like i am enveloped by a lack of emotions. there is nervousness and sadness and boredom and other less interesting forms of feeling. but there is little to no hatred, love, longing, extreme pleasure (the kind that comes from talking for hours with someone for the first time).
it's spring though, and thankfully the thunderstorm that hit today is going to make it feel as such, taking the weather down from 80 to 40 in one fell swoop. so at least the weather will make sense.
even then, i want storms. i want upset. it's as though i know the world is falling to pieces, i know that my life is up in the air right now, and i want the whole world to match.
scratch that, that's the problem.
now i'm off to go feel those emotions more immediately by first sleeping, and then going to a cafe somewhere to be gloomy and brood. then, i'll go find s and go for a hike and be happy.
not becuase life is bad or messy, though it is, but because i need to be gloomy and happy more often, which is exactly what i've been lacking.
like is said in this poem recently
'i'm in love with being lost, with
being hollow like you'
you being some people i know here. i've been so lost in trying to be empty and ghostly, so that i can survive, that i've forgotten that i'm this emotional creature.
yay me.
yay sleep even more.
what's really better? spending 4 hours laboring over a master's thesis that seems like it will never amount to anything once it's done, or watching 4 hours of buffy season 6 that makes me feel emotion again?
I think that's what's bothering me lately, on top of not sleeping enough. i feel like i am enveloped by a lack of emotions. there is nervousness and sadness and boredom and other less interesting forms of feeling. but there is little to no hatred, love, longing, extreme pleasure (the kind that comes from talking for hours with someone for the first time).
it's spring though, and thankfully the thunderstorm that hit today is going to make it feel as such, taking the weather down from 80 to 40 in one fell swoop. so at least the weather will make sense.
even then, i want storms. i want upset. it's as though i know the world is falling to pieces, i know that my life is up in the air right now, and i want the whole world to match.
scratch that, that's the problem.
now i'm off to go feel those emotions more immediately by first sleeping, and then going to a cafe somewhere to be gloomy and brood. then, i'll go find s and go for a hike and be happy.
not becuase life is bad or messy, though it is, but because i need to be gloomy and happy more often, which is exactly what i've been lacking.
like is said in this poem recently
'i'm in love with being lost, with
being hollow like you'
you being some people i know here. i've been so lost in trying to be empty and ghostly, so that i can survive, that i've forgotten that i'm this emotional creature.
yay me.
yay sleep even more.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
april's fool
All this time I've been afraid that I'm a fool. But didn't I know that's always true? We're all fools, not just in love, in everything. I'm the jester of pen to paper, the laughter-inspiring idiot. And that's normal. Why should I be so serious? Trees aren't. Cells don't furrow their metaphorical brows while splitting or heating up their mitochondria.
I am tissue. I am flesh. I am imperfect and destined to fulfill my failures, to live, to breathe, to die. There is no human perfection, no graduate student idyll. We are all monsters mascarading as friends, lovers, people, primates. We are collages of thoughts and memories.
So be foolish and let me be a fool. I'll make my mistakes. They are MINE after all. (By this, I do not imply that life or choices are morally relative, only that we each need to make mistakes to learn and live.)
Celebrate spring. Maybe smirk some. Perhaps even don a bright green or golden shirt to break up the uber-chic all-black-charade. Let the earth speak to you, hear it say, "Fool, be new." And stop worrying so much about how cool or foolish you seem.
I am tissue. I am flesh. I am imperfect and destined to fulfill my failures, to live, to breathe, to die. There is no human perfection, no graduate student idyll. We are all monsters mascarading as friends, lovers, people, primates. We are collages of thoughts and memories.
So be foolish and let me be a fool. I'll make my mistakes. They are MINE after all. (By this, I do not imply that life or choices are morally relative, only that we each need to make mistakes to learn and live.)
Celebrate spring. Maybe smirk some. Perhaps even don a bright green or golden shirt to break up the uber-chic all-black-charade. Let the earth speak to you, hear it say, "Fool, be new." And stop worrying so much about how cool or foolish you seem.
Monday, March 26, 2007
a joyful spring
today, i was sitting in my living room, listening to the second disc of the marie antoinette soundtrack, which involves harpsichord goodness and piano and such (taber, check it out!)
i asked myself the same question i've been asking myself for a while
"what am i doing here?"
this time, i felt the start of an answer
i'm here for my family and friends, and so i asked, "well how exactly does that work? how can you be here for them when they're so far away?"
because i need to find a way to make my life something they understand and value, to do something valuable for the world that the people i care about live in, to make this moment and the next just a little bit, if not a lot, better
so i remembered a bad book i read in ann arbor at a book shop that said, cancers are the most likely to really do something that changes the world
i remembered how my sister, who is so terrifyingly smart, told me that i was smarter than her, maybe (the maybe added of course because she doesn't want me to get egotistical)
i thought of a melody being played in a house i was sitting (housesitting that is) in ann arbor, and it felt so long ago, yet still tasted like fresh fruit in the sun
thought of the reason that i cam ehere and how i've been neglecting it, a tiny, broken-winged dove that cried only softly, i am here to learn to tell stories better and how others tell stories and why they matter
because i believe they are important, and how and who and where they get told is important, and that we don't see them strongly enough
so that's a start
(advice needed!: should i spend the summer in ann arbor, working a part time/full time job and writing/drawing/hanging out,
should i spend the summer in indiana taking a permaculture program, hanging with my friend s, and working only for 2 months at my part time writing-related job, or
should i go to michigan to vacate, come back for permaculture class, and then go back to michigan, and then come back to indiana for the job for 2 months?
vote via comments, please)
i asked myself the same question i've been asking myself for a while
"what am i doing here?"
this time, i felt the start of an answer
i'm here for my family and friends, and so i asked, "well how exactly does that work? how can you be here for them when they're so far away?"
because i need to find a way to make my life something they understand and value, to do something valuable for the world that the people i care about live in, to make this moment and the next just a little bit, if not a lot, better
so i remembered a bad book i read in ann arbor at a book shop that said, cancers are the most likely to really do something that changes the world
i remembered how my sister, who is so terrifyingly smart, told me that i was smarter than her, maybe (the maybe added of course because she doesn't want me to get egotistical)
i thought of a melody being played in a house i was sitting (housesitting that is) in ann arbor, and it felt so long ago, yet still tasted like fresh fruit in the sun
thought of the reason that i cam ehere and how i've been neglecting it, a tiny, broken-winged dove that cried only softly, i am here to learn to tell stories better and how others tell stories and why they matter
because i believe they are important, and how and who and where they get told is important, and that we don't see them strongly enough
so that's a start
(advice needed!: should i spend the summer in ann arbor, working a part time/full time job and writing/drawing/hanging out,
should i spend the summer in indiana taking a permaculture program, hanging with my friend s, and working only for 2 months at my part time writing-related job, or
should i go to michigan to vacate, come back for permaculture class, and then go back to michigan, and then come back to indiana for the job for 2 months?
vote via comments, please)
Friday, March 16, 2007
ever say never
is there no hope? i am trying to find a job for this summer in a2 and realizing that i'm probably not going to be able to
i'm also realizing that i'm probably never going to be able to get a job that i want...i know i'm being pessimistic but there is no reason that i can think of not to be so
we're at war
the economy in michigan and most other places is getting worse and worse
i have not been accepted to any school except IU and the people there are getting irritated by me
there are carcinogens everywhere and the earth is slwoly becoming unliveable
what is there to look foraward to? well, there's the tiny moments where egverything falls aways and i feel all right or even awesome sometimes
but, underneath the skin of that bowl of delicious soup is rotten meat, rotten cheese, rotten rotten rotten everything
i think i'm being ripped in two, reality pulling in one direciton and my constant hope, my ridiculous idealism, pulling me another
case in point: i read the classifieds and saw a florist position; i'm always wanted to be a florist but never thought i could--i put the ad in my word doc with other jobs i found to apply to and then almost deleted it
but i didn't, so i guess that means that hope wins out for now
i don't know if that's for good or ill...
back i go
back i go
back i go to writing my thesis (only got one chapter done and there's only today and tomorrow of spring break left) and trying to apply to jobs in a2.......even if it is hopeless and ican't think for lack of sleep
i'm also realizing that i'm probably never going to be able to get a job that i want...i know i'm being pessimistic but there is no reason that i can think of not to be so
we're at war
the economy in michigan and most other places is getting worse and worse
i have not been accepted to any school except IU and the people there are getting irritated by me
there are carcinogens everywhere and the earth is slwoly becoming unliveable
what is there to look foraward to? well, there's the tiny moments where egverything falls aways and i feel all right or even awesome sometimes
but, underneath the skin of that bowl of delicious soup is rotten meat, rotten cheese, rotten rotten rotten everything
i think i'm being ripped in two, reality pulling in one direciton and my constant hope, my ridiculous idealism, pulling me another
case in point: i read the classifieds and saw a florist position; i'm always wanted to be a florist but never thought i could--i put the ad in my word doc with other jobs i found to apply to and then almost deleted it
but i didn't, so i guess that means that hope wins out for now
i don't know if that's for good or ill...
back i go
back i go
back i go to writing my thesis (only got one chapter done and there's only today and tomorrow of spring break left) and trying to apply to jobs in a2.......even if it is hopeless and ican't think for lack of sleep
Friday, March 02, 2007
"don't deconstruct, and then fill me in" - rilokiley
i am an impostor, the real jono was killed some time ago
i speak in tongues and no one knows what i'm saying, or why i'm standing inside a tongue
no university wants my shit
and probably i shouldn't be saying things online
who am i to talk to? where am i to go?
i cannot say these things because it makes them more real, and i cannot write them because someone someday might read it and misinterpret or presume it somehow means i don't deserve a job
but none of it means anything, does it? jobs, children, marriage, language, career tracks or tracts or facts, statistics, numbers, pensions, savings, taxes, mother's-maiden-name-chaos
it's all just a metaphor for bodies crashing into one another ---- BOOOOM
i am either going insane or realizing something
is my school life? is it a university? why can't it be both? why is it that when i asked a man several months ago how i can be both artist and scientist and writer in my work, he replied that perhaps i need to be schooled by life-not-in-a-university-setting?
and why oh why can't i just go up to him and ask
'why did you say that?
and why did you forget my name? do you even remember what i said!?'
i suspect i'm simply going crazy, from not sleeping and 3 rejection letters (wisconsin, umich, and duke), trying to write my thesis, 20 or so journals due next week, people visiting a lot, teaching two classes, working 7 hours a week on top of that, and taking 2 classes
who am i? does not compute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
"I'm sticking with you
cuz i ' m maaaaaaaade ouuuuuuuuuuut oooooffffffff glllllue
whaaaaaa aaatever you might doooooo
, iiiiiiiiii'm gonnnnnnnnnnnna do toooo
i saaaaaw you haaaaaaaangggginnnnnn from a tree, so
i made belive it was meeeee. "
velvet underground, extra letters added
i speak in tongues and no one knows what i'm saying, or why i'm standing inside a tongue
no university wants my shit
and probably i shouldn't be saying things online
who am i to talk to? where am i to go?
i cannot say these things because it makes them more real, and i cannot write them because someone someday might read it and misinterpret or presume it somehow means i don't deserve a job
but none of it means anything, does it? jobs, children, marriage, language, career tracks or tracts or facts, statistics, numbers, pensions, savings, taxes, mother's-maiden-name-chaos
it's all just a metaphor for bodies crashing into one another ---- BOOOOM
i am either going insane or realizing something
is my school life? is it a university? why can't it be both? why is it that when i asked a man several months ago how i can be both artist and scientist and writer in my work, he replied that perhaps i need to be schooled by life-not-in-a-university-setting?
and why oh why can't i just go up to him and ask
'why did you say that?
and why did you forget my name? do you even remember what i said!?'
i suspect i'm simply going crazy, from not sleeping and 3 rejection letters (wisconsin, umich, and duke), trying to write my thesis, 20 or so journals due next week, people visiting a lot, teaching two classes, working 7 hours a week on top of that, and taking 2 classes
who am i? does not compute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
doesnotcomputedoesnotcompute
"I'm sticking with you
cuz i ' m maaaaaaaade ouuuuuuuuuuut oooooffffffff glllllue
whaaaaaa aaatever you might doooooo
, iiiiiiiiii'm gonnnnnnnnnnnna do toooo
i saaaaaw you haaaaaaaangggginnnnnn from a tree, so
i made belive it was meeeee. "
velvet underground, extra letters added
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
i don't know who i am, who i plan to be, or what my hopes/dreams in life are
i remember once wanting to draw, once wanting to weave, once wanting to write, once wanting to teach
right now i just want to cuddle up in bed and wake up to a field of green grass and someone walking towards me, someone i know, someone telling me that we have to get going, that the future is waiting and it's time to start all over again
and move into a wooden house where making mroe friends would be easy
i remember once wanting to draw, once wanting to weave, once wanting to write, once wanting to teach
right now i just want to cuddle up in bed and wake up to a field of green grass and someone walking towards me, someone i know, someone telling me that we have to get going, that the future is waiting and it's time to start all over again
and move into a wooden house where making mroe friends would be easy
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
donnie darko moment
he stood up.
he looked around him, not recognizing anything, and put on his backback abruptly, trying to feel with purpose. he walked away from where he had been, from the stairs, from the cement starkly lit by the afternoon sun of spring being sprung. the trees in the distance came closer and he realized he was walking to get lunch. passing a tree, he saw a dead squirrel lying at the trunk, another squirrel in the ditance eating a nut, and people walking by.
no one cared. his heart hurt and his mind ached. the world did not make sense so he would try to forget about it, try to remember the story. Kelly Link. The garden of eden, i am your adam madam, madam my adam. Songs on a tape deck and women made of apples.
he passed a pink beetle. when it honked, he forgot it was an insect, seeing the car in it. hearing the guitar of a rambuxious but pretentious musician, he turned to see a bland-looking guy playing guitar with amps-pumped-too-loud and a beard. everyone in indiana wears beards.
he forgot himself again, until he found himself standing in a hallway, familiarly lit, and he could see his own destiny, like a bubble drawn through a large net on a still day, like the large, clear worm things in donnie darko, pulled out before him. he saw it go around the corner, down through the short valley between the union and the downtown and the burrito place. he saw it go to the burrito place and knew that was the only place he wanted to go, that was the only destiny he had.
passing an art store, he wandered in, disobeing destiny, forgeting the clear worm. within moments, he'd purchased something, not sure what until he got to the restaurant with its strong smell of beans and chili. looking at his hand, he saw the red bag, looked in, found the overpriced sketchbook and the case of pencils. he decided he would go back tomorrow and return the pencils. he ate his quesadilla and slowly realized that he had nowhere else to go.
his destiny had filled its desire for the day, pulling him here, pulling him somewhere that felt like home. right then, he remembered that he needed to leave.
he looked around him, not recognizing anything, and put on his backback abruptly, trying to feel with purpose. he walked away from where he had been, from the stairs, from the cement starkly lit by the afternoon sun of spring being sprung. the trees in the distance came closer and he realized he was walking to get lunch. passing a tree, he saw a dead squirrel lying at the trunk, another squirrel in the ditance eating a nut, and people walking by.
no one cared. his heart hurt and his mind ached. the world did not make sense so he would try to forget about it, try to remember the story. Kelly Link. The garden of eden, i am your adam madam, madam my adam. Songs on a tape deck and women made of apples.
he passed a pink beetle. when it honked, he forgot it was an insect, seeing the car in it. hearing the guitar of a rambuxious but pretentious musician, he turned to see a bland-looking guy playing guitar with amps-pumped-too-loud and a beard. everyone in indiana wears beards.
he forgot himself again, until he found himself standing in a hallway, familiarly lit, and he could see his own destiny, like a bubble drawn through a large net on a still day, like the large, clear worm things in donnie darko, pulled out before him. he saw it go around the corner, down through the short valley between the union and the downtown and the burrito place. he saw it go to the burrito place and knew that was the only place he wanted to go, that was the only destiny he had.
passing an art store, he wandered in, disobeing destiny, forgeting the clear worm. within moments, he'd purchased something, not sure what until he got to the restaurant with its strong smell of beans and chili. looking at his hand, he saw the red bag, looked in, found the overpriced sketchbook and the case of pencils. he decided he would go back tomorrow and return the pencils. he ate his quesadilla and slowly realized that he had nowhere else to go.
his destiny had filled its desire for the day, pulling him here, pulling him somewhere that felt like home. right then, he remembered that he needed to leave.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
Bake a Cake
Mother of whispers, mother
of sorrow, she sits at a tall table and ponders
the morrow, wait until dinner time,
holding my hand, wait til the broccoli
lies dead in the stand. Then, you may come
to the mother of sorrow, she'll tell you
hope is oven-bound, when she means
we are dying.
of sorrow, she sits at a tall table and ponders
the morrow, wait until dinner time,
holding my hand, wait til the broccoli
lies dead in the stand. Then, you may come
to the mother of sorrow, she'll tell you
hope is oven-bound, when she means
we are dying.