Careless caress cuts,
softest shards of shattered glass.
Smile saccharine sweet,
lips smacking sin.
Short breaths reek regret,
spitting fucks and Gods
to shake this secret silence.
Lies strangle, stifle sound
as we slither, sifting stained sheets.
Shifting, somehow,
still sitting still.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
"Always"
Always the pen finds purchase,
Dauntless, spitting into the void.
With aimless precision, proliferate.
A birth in every wanton stroke,
miracle mess, a fountainhead.
Ink willed builds, burns, brands
bleeds, fluid still
Slips and sticks, inviting,
a kiss from a stranger
that tastes like home.
Dauntless, spitting into the void.
With aimless precision, proliferate.
A birth in every wanton stroke,
miracle mess, a fountainhead.
Ink willed builds, burns, brands
bleeds, fluid still
Slips and sticks, inviting,
a kiss from a stranger
that tastes like home.
Friday, February 29, 2008
It Happened Again
In the past month or so, I've twice woken up from a dream and thought to myself "that would make an awesome story! I should write this down." I've been keeping a notebook near my bed and on my person whenever possible explicitly for that purpose. I feel like I've let too many great ideas slip through my fingers like so much smoke.
Well, it happened again. It was like a total meta-dream. There was this great story, but I can't remember it now - all I can recall, for the life of me, is that it reminded me of that old story "The Gift of the Magi," but was different enough to matter. I remember dreaming about talking to my friends about how awesome of a story it would be, and them encouraging me to explore it. I remember thinking it could be part of a great short-story cycle (no doubt influenced by my taking a class on that literary form this semester). I distinctly remember waking up, and thinking to write it down. I even remember writing it down... twice!... but I guess those were just dreams too.
It's really remarkable how those ideas can just dissipate. It seemed so clear to me at the time, I didn't think I'd ever forget it. When I woke up, there was nary a trace of the story's core. It just seems like such a waste.
Well, it happened again. It was like a total meta-dream. There was this great story, but I can't remember it now - all I can recall, for the life of me, is that it reminded me of that old story "The Gift of the Magi," but was different enough to matter. I remember dreaming about talking to my friends about how awesome of a story it would be, and them encouraging me to explore it. I remember thinking it could be part of a great short-story cycle (no doubt influenced by my taking a class on that literary form this semester). I distinctly remember waking up, and thinking to write it down. I even remember writing it down... twice!... but I guess those were just dreams too.
It's really remarkable how those ideas can just dissipate. It seemed so clear to me at the time, I didn't think I'd ever forget it. When I woke up, there was nary a trace of the story's core. It just seems like such a waste.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Left Brain; Right Brain
I missed my chance.
For a while now, I've had this nagging feeling that I'm doing it all wrong. I parade around, pretending I'm a writer, a poet. One would think that that would entail, you know, writing things. If not poems, not stories or editorials then at least a blog entry now and again. Hardly. I am the John Cage of literature. Witness the silence.
I'm haunted by this feeling that I'm wasting something great. I'm a smart guy, and reasonably talented. If I'm not creating some mind-shattering art, I feel like I should be curing cancer or something. Math comes easy to me, almost as easy as writing... the only difference is that I fucking hate math. But you know, the likelihood of changing the world through art that I don't even practice is pretty nil. If I were a scientist or mathematician, at least I'd be doing something, in the grand scheme.
The other day, we did this brief mock-experiment in Psych class. The class split in to two groups, the first asking the second a series of unrelated and ultimately unimportant questions. The theory was this - people who were right-brain dominant (the supposedly creative side of the brain) would look left while they thought about the answers. Vice versa for left-brained (the logical side of the brain).
It was kind of sad. Having been one of the people asking the questions and analyzing the results, I felt a little unresolved. I felt I had missed my chance. I wanted to know - I am left brained or right? I am supposed to be logical or artistic? Mastering cold fusion or thought-provoking poetry? I can do both, I just don't know which I should be doing. I tried to think of inane but challenging questions for myself. Of course I looked left, but who knows if that's just my subconscious telling me what I want to hear. Then again, that should be all the answer I need.
For a while now, I've had this nagging feeling that I'm doing it all wrong. I parade around, pretending I'm a writer, a poet. One would think that that would entail, you know, writing things. If not poems, not stories or editorials then at least a blog entry now and again. Hardly. I am the John Cage of literature. Witness the silence.
I'm haunted by this feeling that I'm wasting something great. I'm a smart guy, and reasonably talented. If I'm not creating some mind-shattering art, I feel like I should be curing cancer or something. Math comes easy to me, almost as easy as writing... the only difference is that I fucking hate math. But you know, the likelihood of changing the world through art that I don't even practice is pretty nil. If I were a scientist or mathematician, at least I'd be doing something, in the grand scheme.
The other day, we did this brief mock-experiment in Psych class. The class split in to two groups, the first asking the second a series of unrelated and ultimately unimportant questions. The theory was this - people who were right-brain dominant (the supposedly creative side of the brain) would look left while they thought about the answers. Vice versa for left-brained (the logical side of the brain).
It was kind of sad. Having been one of the people asking the questions and analyzing the results, I felt a little unresolved. I felt I had missed my chance. I wanted to know - I am left brained or right? I am supposed to be logical or artistic? Mastering cold fusion or thought-provoking poetry? I can do both, I just don't know which I should be doing. I tried to think of inane but challenging questions for myself. Of course I looked left, but who knows if that's just my subconscious telling me what I want to hear. Then again, that should be all the answer I need.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
What the Fuck?
So I get some mail from the DMV today. Having had no interaction (or reason to interact) with the DMV for several months no, I had no idea what could possibly be in the envelope. Turns out, it was a notice that my license had been suspended. The information on the sheet was pretty sparse: my license was suspended for failing to make a court appearance. A court appearance for a violation in January. What the fuck?
Baffled, I called the Queensbury town court to get some more details - I may not be the most organized person, but I think I'd remember blowing off a court appearance. As it happens, this court appearance was for, of all god damned things, my headlight being out. Now, I do remember being pulled over for having a headlight out some time ago. I remember the cop telling me that I had to get it fixed, take it to a garage and get some sort of verification that it was fixed within 24 hours or so. I remember missing that deadline and fixing the light at home. Now, given that it was 9 fucking months ago, my memory is a little hazy - but I do also recall pleading guilty and paying my fine through the mail. Why would I waste a day going to court for a blown headlight?
How ridiculous. I feel like some mistake has been made here, but this all happened so long ago, who the fuck knows at this point? If I did miss a court date over this nonsense, I'd expect to wait maybe a month, maybe even 2 before hearing something. But now, 9 months later without warning, my license is suddenly gone?
Now, supposing that I was going to heed this law and not drive, what the hell would I do then? I go into work at 2am, from 20 minutes out. Who the hell would I catch a ride with? Would I take a cab? A cab would honestly cost more than I make in my 5-hour night. Presumably, I'd have to set up a new court date or plead guilty - who knows how long the turnaround on that would be. Am I going to have to wait 9 months before I get my license back? I'm just going to go directly to the court tomorrow, see if I can't expedite this in some way. I'm sure I'll have to wait for the judge to get anything done, which is just absolutely preposterous.
I just read this article from some law firm about how they go pretty hard on people who drive with suspended licenses these days. I can just imagine now, getting pulled over for something random, getting cuffed and fingerprinted because of an unpaid ticket for a blown headlight. Seriously. What the fuck.
Baffled, I called the Queensbury town court to get some more details - I may not be the most organized person, but I think I'd remember blowing off a court appearance. As it happens, this court appearance was for, of all god damned things, my headlight being out. Now, I do remember being pulled over for having a headlight out some time ago. I remember the cop telling me that I had to get it fixed, take it to a garage and get some sort of verification that it was fixed within 24 hours or so. I remember missing that deadline and fixing the light at home. Now, given that it was 9 fucking months ago, my memory is a little hazy - but I do also recall pleading guilty and paying my fine through the mail. Why would I waste a day going to court for a blown headlight?
How ridiculous. I feel like some mistake has been made here, but this all happened so long ago, who the fuck knows at this point? If I did miss a court date over this nonsense, I'd expect to wait maybe a month, maybe even 2 before hearing something. But now, 9 months later without warning, my license is suddenly gone?
Now, supposing that I was going to heed this law and not drive, what the hell would I do then? I go into work at 2am, from 20 minutes out. Who the hell would I catch a ride with? Would I take a cab? A cab would honestly cost more than I make in my 5-hour night. Presumably, I'd have to set up a new court date or plead guilty - who knows how long the turnaround on that would be. Am I going to have to wait 9 months before I get my license back? I'm just going to go directly to the court tomorrow, see if I can't expedite this in some way. I'm sure I'll have to wait for the judge to get anything done, which is just absolutely preposterous.
I just read this article from some law firm about how they go pretty hard on people who drive with suspended licenses these days. I can just imagine now, getting pulled over for something random, getting cuffed and fingerprinted because of an unpaid ticket for a blown headlight. Seriously. What the fuck.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Ups and Downs
Up: I just aced a test in Sociology. It's no big feat - it was 33 of the most over-the-plate multiple choice questions I've ever had the pleasure of answering. The professor (probably not actually a professor, I sometimes think that ACC just pulls folks off the street to teach) is like an adorably bumbling teddy bear. He tells a joke like every other minute of class, about 75% of the jokes fall flat, and a good percentage of the rest just get the pity left. It's tragic, but he doesn't let it bring him down, and I say good on him for trying.
Down: Not looking forward to writing another paper for Dr. Pomakoy's history class. I had to do one over the summer and it wasn't so much fun. I feel like every other "professor" at ACC is teaching a BOCES course, and this guy's teaching a graduate course. But, I guess I can't complain when 5 of my 6 classes are cakewalks.
Up: I'm really digging T'ai Chi. Moreso than I even thought I would. It's the one and only class that I don't entertain skipping, and that I don't get bored by the end. I've actively avoided buying books for the classes I can't get away with it - I've actively sought out resources for T'ai Chi outside of the syllabus. It's only been a few weeks, but I can feel the T'ai Chi movements sort of creeping into my normal posture, and it feels inexplicably cool and randomly graceful. Thumbs up.
Down: My other Phys. Ed. course, Fitness and Conditioning, I'm a little more wary about. I'm by far the most of out of shape guy in the class, so despite the class not really being competitive, it still can be a bit embarrassing. Ironically, I ended up skipping the class on Monday because I was too sore from working out with Tae Bo and DDR the night before.
Up: I built a new computer, pretty much. I knew stuff about computer hardware before, but I'd always been intimidated by the motherboard and it's sundry accouterments. Turns out it was nothing to worry about. My original plan was to salvage as much of my old machine as I could, but in the end the only thing I ended up saving was my hard drive and my trusty 56k modem. Since the new motherboard obsoleted some of my old peripherals, I had to replace a lot, but ultimately I ended up with a much more powerful, compact, and quiet machine. Not to mention the sense of accomplishment of having built it myself.
Down: Fucking Steam. I would be lying if I said I didn't build my machine to be a gaming rig, and generally I'm pretty happy with it. I got to finish Bioshock the way it was meant to be played, and I'll be able to revisit Oblivion and some other games as well. I picked up Half-Life 2: Episode 1 for $10 at Gamestop today for another treat... but Steam is just a pain in my ass. I had the same sort of issues when I bought the original HL2. Not only do I have to download updates on my dial-up connection to be able to access my game, but for some reason Steam always fucks up the install. I have the game on a DVD. Why? Why do I need to go through Steam to play my single-player off-line game?
Up: Not much new in the rock scene lately, but some good rap music hit the charts recently. I picked up the new albums from Kanye West, Talib Kweli and Pharaoh Monche in this past month. All of them are pretty solid, Kweli's "Eardrum" is especially a standout. I might go over it in more detail later, but by far "Eardrum" has the most consistent and lively production of any of Kweli's albums - and of course the BKMC delivers on the lyrical front.
Down: I'm a tad disappointed in Kanye's album. I wasn't in love with the production on the first listens. It seemed like a really mixed bag, but it eventually grew on me - and there are certainly some really outstanding beats to be had. My problem has more to do with the content. It's not that Kanye or anyone else has to always be meaningful - and certainly "The Louis Vuitton Don" isn't always coming from the "heal the world" angle. "Graduation," though, is a bit too much of the materialistic, flashy braggart style of rap that I'm not crazy about. It's not anything too offensive, but I guess I was just expecting something a wee bit different.
Up: I feel good. For a long time, I would've said that I was happy, but as I alluded to previously, I was just complacent. Almost like a drugged stupor, minus the drugs. It was really more of an absence of sadness than a real happiness, just a void of feeling. While I can't say I'm 100% happy now, I feel more generally positive than I have in a long time.
Down: See my last two posts. In T'ai Chi class yesterday, Intructor Li was telling a Chinese humor story to elucidate one of the Dao philosophies on which T'ai Chi is built. The short version - fortune and misfortune come hand in hand. As I noted previously, my break-up with Vicki was an impetus for a very positive change... but it's also a devastating loss that I'm trying to counteract. I do believe it was a necessary thing to "wake me up", and the break-up itself is ultimately a blessing in disguise. That said, now that I feel I am on the road to "recovery," so to speak, there's nothing I'd like to do more than share that with Vicki, and that may just be an impossibility.
Up: Never good to end on a down-note, eh? To counteract that final, and most heinous of downs, I only have the one defense: faith. I guess you can say I've always been lucky. Things just tend to work out for me. For a long time, things worked out for me in spite of my best efforts to fuck them up. Now, with this new-found state of positivity, I feel like my track record can only get better from here. I've just got this feeling, and it's a good one.
Down: Not looking forward to writing another paper for Dr. Pomakoy's history class. I had to do one over the summer and it wasn't so much fun. I feel like every other "professor" at ACC is teaching a BOCES course, and this guy's teaching a graduate course. But, I guess I can't complain when 5 of my 6 classes are cakewalks.
Up: I'm really digging T'ai Chi. Moreso than I even thought I would. It's the one and only class that I don't entertain skipping, and that I don't get bored by the end. I've actively avoided buying books for the classes I can't get away with it - I've actively sought out resources for T'ai Chi outside of the syllabus. It's only been a few weeks, but I can feel the T'ai Chi movements sort of creeping into my normal posture, and it feels inexplicably cool and randomly graceful. Thumbs up.
Down: My other Phys. Ed. course, Fitness and Conditioning, I'm a little more wary about. I'm by far the most of out of shape guy in the class, so despite the class not really being competitive, it still can be a bit embarrassing. Ironically, I ended up skipping the class on Monday because I was too sore from working out with Tae Bo and DDR the night before.
Up: I built a new computer, pretty much. I knew stuff about computer hardware before, but I'd always been intimidated by the motherboard and it's sundry accouterments. Turns out it was nothing to worry about. My original plan was to salvage as much of my old machine as I could, but in the end the only thing I ended up saving was my hard drive and my trusty 56k modem. Since the new motherboard obsoleted some of my old peripherals, I had to replace a lot, but ultimately I ended up with a much more powerful, compact, and quiet machine. Not to mention the sense of accomplishment of having built it myself.
Down: Fucking Steam. I would be lying if I said I didn't build my machine to be a gaming rig, and generally I'm pretty happy with it. I got to finish Bioshock the way it was meant to be played, and I'll be able to revisit Oblivion and some other games as well. I picked up Half-Life 2: Episode 1 for $10 at Gamestop today for another treat... but Steam is just a pain in my ass. I had the same sort of issues when I bought the original HL2. Not only do I have to download updates on my dial-up connection to be able to access my game, but for some reason Steam always fucks up the install. I have the game on a DVD. Why? Why do I need to go through Steam to play my single-player off-line game?
Up: Not much new in the rock scene lately, but some good rap music hit the charts recently. I picked up the new albums from Kanye West, Talib Kweli and Pharaoh Monche in this past month. All of them are pretty solid, Kweli's "Eardrum" is especially a standout. I might go over it in more detail later, but by far "Eardrum" has the most consistent and lively production of any of Kweli's albums - and of course the BKMC delivers on the lyrical front.
Down: I'm a tad disappointed in Kanye's album. I wasn't in love with the production on the first listens. It seemed like a really mixed bag, but it eventually grew on me - and there are certainly some really outstanding beats to be had. My problem has more to do with the content. It's not that Kanye or anyone else has to always be meaningful - and certainly "The Louis Vuitton Don" isn't always coming from the "heal the world" angle. "Graduation," though, is a bit too much of the materialistic, flashy braggart style of rap that I'm not crazy about. It's not anything too offensive, but I guess I was just expecting something a wee bit different.
Up: I feel good. For a long time, I would've said that I was happy, but as I alluded to previously, I was just complacent. Almost like a drugged stupor, minus the drugs. It was really more of an absence of sadness than a real happiness, just a void of feeling. While I can't say I'm 100% happy now, I feel more generally positive than I have in a long time.
Down: See my last two posts. In T'ai Chi class yesterday, Intructor Li was telling a Chinese humor story to elucidate one of the Dao philosophies on which T'ai Chi is built. The short version - fortune and misfortune come hand in hand. As I noted previously, my break-up with Vicki was an impetus for a very positive change... but it's also a devastating loss that I'm trying to counteract. I do believe it was a necessary thing to "wake me up", and the break-up itself is ultimately a blessing in disguise. That said, now that I feel I am on the road to "recovery," so to speak, there's nothing I'd like to do more than share that with Vicki, and that may just be an impossibility.
Up: Never good to end on a down-note, eh? To counteract that final, and most heinous of downs, I only have the one defense: faith. I guess you can say I've always been lucky. Things just tend to work out for me. For a long time, things worked out for me in spite of my best efforts to fuck them up. Now, with this new-found state of positivity, I feel like my track record can only get better from here. I've just got this feeling, and it's a good one.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Faith
I didn't fly in a plane until I was in my twenties. I've always been a little terrified of flying. There's a number of reasons, most of them are irrational, but its not like I'm the only one with the phobia, so whatever. Anyway, first time I flew was with Vicki, and I was extremely nervous. As with everything else in my life, I didn't let on - keeping with my weirdo machismo, I put on the stoic face. During the flight, we hit the usual turbulence - nothing serious, from what I understand, but certainly enough to freak out a nervous first-time flier. Vicki and I were watching 24 on the portable DVD player, so that distracted me reasonably well, but still I was running the fiery death scenarios through my head like that scene in Fight Club.
Then, all at once, I was calm. I thought to myself, "If I die, then at least I'll be passing into whatever comes next with the girl that I love." Looking back on it, I still feel like maybe that's a little morbid, but honestly it was a beautiful moment. At the risk of sounding like a crazy person, it's as close as I've come to a religious experience. More than the average person, I'd say, I've always been afraid of death. As I've ranted about before, I'm not sure that there's anything but a void after death, and "terrify" is to weak a word to describe how that makes me feel. Nothing in my life has been able to conquer that feeling.
(Aside: I'm apparently not too much of a morbid freak. There's this sweet song called "Dear Bobbie" on the newest Yellowcard album that's based on the Ryan Key's 87 year old grandfather reading a love letter to his wife of 58 years. Part of the lyrics: "When I lay tonight / When I close my eyes / I know the sun will rise / Here or the next life / As long as you're still mine / It's all right, I'll be fine / When I die, then I die loving you." It's really a touching song, it actually features Key's granddad reading from the love letter, it's beautifully genuine. Someone on the 'net compared it to the the movie The Notebook, but in music form. Which makes it slightly lamer, but still beautiful.)
That's why I can't let go. I can't give it up. You know, maybe (probably?) some other girl will make me feel the same way. I don't know, to me that seems like a really big chance to take. I don't know. Maybe it's something that you eventually feel with anyone that you've spent enough time with, but I doubt it. I certainly can't claim that I'm experienced when it comes to love, but I can't shake this feeling that this is something special.
Then, all at once, I was calm. I thought to myself, "If I die, then at least I'll be passing into whatever comes next with the girl that I love." Looking back on it, I still feel like maybe that's a little morbid, but honestly it was a beautiful moment. At the risk of sounding like a crazy person, it's as close as I've come to a religious experience. More than the average person, I'd say, I've always been afraid of death. As I've ranted about before, I'm not sure that there's anything but a void after death, and "terrify" is to weak a word to describe how that makes me feel. Nothing in my life has been able to conquer that feeling.
(Aside: I'm apparently not too much of a morbid freak. There's this sweet song called "Dear Bobbie" on the newest Yellowcard album that's based on the Ryan Key's 87 year old grandfather reading a love letter to his wife of 58 years. Part of the lyrics: "When I lay tonight / When I close my eyes / I know the sun will rise / Here or the next life / As long as you're still mine / It's all right, I'll be fine / When I die, then I die loving you." It's really a touching song, it actually features Key's granddad reading from the love letter, it's beautifully genuine. Someone on the 'net compared it to the the movie The Notebook, but in music form. Which makes it slightly lamer, but still beautiful.)
That's why I can't let go. I can't give it up. You know, maybe (probably?) some other girl will make me feel the same way. I don't know, to me that seems like a really big chance to take. I don't know. Maybe it's something that you eventually feel with anyone that you've spent enough time with, but I doubt it. I certainly can't claim that I'm experienced when it comes to love, but I can't shake this feeling that this is something special.
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