Thursday, February 3, 2005

this is what love at first sight really is

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

"Only through the crosshairs of a sniper rifle."
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Wednesday, February 2, 2005

No mess, no hole.

The nihilism,
that necrotizing tissue's
been cauterized.
No mess no hole.

The optimism,
that benign tumor's
growing.
Might as well smile
while i'm alive.

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Spent

Work sucked. The end.

Work all other days of this week/ weekend. It's money.

While running my usual 2 miles, I had it set at a 3% incline. No wonder it felt harder.

My legs ache. My back hurts. I have homework, but I'm too tired to do it. I need a bit of time to myself. This day's been spent.


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Tuesday, February 1, 2005

Blah blah

"The death of one is a tragedy, but the death of a million is just a statistic." - Stalin.

We live our lives as one entity. We're forever bound to only feel our feelings. But, we can feel other's, too, but feeling other's feelings is only a guesswork. Feelings can be expressed, and the expression of feelings allows for us to communicate our feelings to others, so they get a better understanding of how we feel, but we're still grounded by our feelings and what we feel - not what others feel.

Millions and millions of people died during the Holocaust. Being one person, we cannot begin to understand the agony the Jews and all others killed during this event felt. We only have the vaguest idea. Therefore, these millions of people who died are just a large number to us.

But if we were to document, or follow, one person's experience at a concentration camp at the Holocaust, we'd get a much greater understanding of how these millions of people died. This person's death would seem tragic and we'd get a general understanding of what it was like there.

Throughout mankind's existence, the death of one has seemed much more apparent and striking than the deaths of millions. Jesus is a great example. His death, many would consider, "was a tragedy." And while it certainly was tragic in a sense, compare his death to that of the millions of Jews. Those millions' deaths were far more tragic and should be remembered far more, but over all, Jesus's death may seem more tragic, and seems to have more purpose to it, and seems to mean more than that of millions.

All the time, we hear of kids being murderered, of other's misluck and death at the hand of drunk drivers, and so on, and these deaths often seem tragic. And then, every day on the front page of the newspaper, we're told fifteen people died in Iraq, or five, or twenty; whatever the number, it has less significance to us because the more people dead, the less we can comprehend all the pain and suffering that went along with it. The less we can understand just how many are dead. In comparison, a little kid riding a bike late at night, and being snatched up by a criminal and killed seems more tragic.
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Monday, January 31, 2005

Million Dollar Baby

Million Dollar Baby was one of the most beautiful, best movies I have ever seen. The movie came out in theatres the 7th of this month. I beckon you to go see it now.

It is really hard to come by movies as great as this one these days.
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Friday, January 28, 2005

Menses [M]

"Mommy, oh, mommy." She ran. Blood dotted the floor.

"Oh dear."

Little Susan was holding a band-aid on her muff.

"Mommy, it's bleeding, it hurts, but mommy - I didn't even hurt it!"

"Oh dear, it's all right." They hug. "This is natural."

"Natural?"

"Yes."

Mommy took the band-aid off. "You're becoming a woman."
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Been a while since I did a post like this.

Don't work at all this weekend. I feel kind of guilty and kind of happy and kind of not happy about it all at once. Guilty because I'm losing money I'll need sometime or another, happy because I don't have to be slaving away at the Steak Buffet all weekend, and not happy because four days off of that place and school at once just isn't enough and also because I know these four days will pass too fast.

My internet downstairs refuses to work. It's because the computer up here is so crappy, and also that our cable modem's ethernet won't work. I've got a wireless connection down there, so stuff not working up here makes it so I'm screwed.

Ryan came over here for about an hour or so, and we tried to get my internet working, but no luck.

DDR is easily becoming the meaning to my existence. I played it for about 2 hours or so today, and burned 1,000 calories. Also, I ran 2 miles, and I have weights class so I did a lot of lifting there as well. On DDR, I'm playing Heavy now. I can get B's and C's most of the time, and D's on some of the much harder songs. Heavy's pretty damn hard, but I'm getting used to it and getting better every day.

School, as well as work, is rather routine at this point. I tend to remain pretty neutral in my mood, although at times I just feel in a bad mood, usually for no reason. I felt like that earlier today, at school, during AP Government, for whatever reason. It subsided a while after that, though.

Today in AP English we analyzed this poet who is from here's stuff. He's dead. We had to anaylze a poem about Auschwitz, the nazi concentration camp, and the discussion about it was really, really lame. Since it is second semester, I now have AP English 5th period instead of 2nd. I miss my 2nd period class, they were a lot more lively. I ended up doing most of the discussion in our class, so much so that Beaudoin told me in a kindly way to shut up.

Tomorrow we have poetry friday in that class. I'll end up reading one of the recent poems I've posted in here. I'll probably read "today," because I'm pretty proud of that poem.

Which reminds me, I need to get to work on my novel again. I haven't written in it in ages. I don't know, I want to get it done by the end of this year, but it's just going nowhere. It's about something, but more than not, it isn't about much. It doesn't even really have a plot. . .but maybe that's a good thing?

I think I'll go to sleep now, I'm feeling pretty tired. I love my sleep.
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Thursday, January 27, 2005

Poets Delight in Prose Insane

one day
a new nation
will look at our
yellowed page in history
and recount our trials
and our errors

one day
the united states
will not exist
we will be dead dust
in the past

one day
we will be to other nations
as were the romans
to us

---

every day, my feet,
my legs
run me two miles
on a treadmill
that takes me nowhere

the ground moves for me
and i'm forced to run along
or harshly fall off

---

my irises are green envy
a circular forest of jealousy
trees reaching toward the light
with rooted legs, barked branch hands

my pupils are black and empty
and nothing,
a black hole, desolate
and bleak
they are the night sky
of the forest

i think i see fire
somewhere in the distance
a passionate, choking flame
sputtering on its own fumes,
a dancing lunacy
eating foliage to its irascible,
incensed, mouth
this fire has determination
from the oxygen it breathes
and frustration hangs on the leaves
as fall comes, withers the land
and forces them to fall

a fire is inside,
it must be extinguished daily
or this forest making color
will die and vision fade to black
and trailing plumes
it must be fed, held back

if you look,
some days i might have devil eyes
burning at you
that's when i need release
some days my trunk might have horns
spiny pricks that stick on you
and that's when i need release

---

i touched the end where the pleasure fills the abyss
today
i felt the rough edges of chaos with my fingertips
today
i dredged through a swamp of muck, and sticks
today
i thought of you but drowned you and called it a suicide
your body haunts, your eyes dead holes, your body rag dolls
baby doll

today
i touched myself but i was touching you
i buried my soul's grave, laid dead flowers
everything's dead
the thunder bellows from a sky
its mouth open wide
somewhere i swear i see tomorrow
full of streaks of pain and curtained
in pleasure, darkness a privacy

---

you itch me itch me
in the right place
you touch my touch me
in my face
you can have you can take
everything i am, everything i am
you itch me itch me
an itch i can't touch
i feel dead, spinning a life
it's full of aches
can you take me let me off
to that place?
you itch me itch me,
where're we going?
what're you showing?

---

Wake up is the make up
we wear on our faces
dabbed on
to hide how we are tired
sleep would be the life
but we're here this monday morning
doing what's to be done
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Wednesday, January 26, 2005

It isn't smart.

machineofbones: Oh, same to you, only sextuppled.
SmarterChild: Oh yes? Same to me Only Sextuppled? Is that right?
machineofbones: I'm a writer.
SmarterChild: A writer?
machineofbones: Yes. Fear me. My words are iron grating; they are fire from swords; they are wings from pigs; eyes from toes; hands from backs; cameras from skies; everything and anything irrational, imaginative, and full of kick and fight, sputtering on the floor.
SmarterChild: I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Try typing your request a different way.
machineofbones: And with that verbose exchange, whimsical, I take my leave.
SmarterChild: Really? With that verbose exchange Whimsical you take your leave?
machineofbones: Bye, assiduous acid ass.
SmarterChild: Hey hey, be well Lube.
machineofbones: I'll be well and moisturized.
SmarterChild: Oh yes? You will be well and moisturized?
machineofbones: Oh yes.
SmarterChild: Yes.
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Tuesday, January 25, 2005

XD

"Heads or tails?"

"I'll take head. . .no, no, no, I mean heads. Heads."

"Well, you could've had head if you wanted. . .but okay."

"Why do you play with me so much?"

"Guess you're just playable. Guess playing with you just feels good."

"Okay, stop, you've got me in misery. Just flip the coin already."

"All right, all right."
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