Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
I suppose I should go to bed -
Big day tomorrow.
Inhale
Work
Class - long...long...long
Buy wrapping paper
Clean apt for Friday
Work out
Register Liz's Car
Hope the Title and License plate are here
Change Rasputin's cardboard
Hope things start to get better for everybody
Go to Liz's birthday dinner
See what happens from there
Exhale
Then sleep.
Yeah, I should be in bed now.
After all,
its already tomorrow.
Estrella,
who knows what will happen.
We'll see.
Big day tomorrow.
Inhale
Work
Class - long...long...long
Buy wrapping paper
Clean apt for Friday
Work out
Register Liz's Car
Hope the Title and License plate are here
Change Rasputin's cardboard
Hope things start to get better for everybody
Go to Liz's birthday dinner
See what happens from there
Exhale
Then sleep.
Yeah, I should be in bed now.
After all,
its already tomorrow.
Estrella,
who knows what will happen.
We'll see.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
9:35, February 3rd, 2011
You drink with both hands,
and everything is heavy.
It isn't yet dusk.
Ice in the cotton,
not a single line to trace.
Yellow presses through.
There is beauty past the fence,
and through the vines that contain it,
from the steps of my stairwell
and the sight of my balcony.
Spring is coming
after all.
and everything is heavy.
It isn't yet dusk.
Ice in the cotton,
not a single line to trace.
Yellow presses through.
There is beauty past the fence,
and through the vines that contain it,
from the steps of my stairwell
and the sight of my balcony.
Spring is coming
after all.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Its like we've all got words pressed into the skin of our hands..inky black splotches sitting in the cracked skin, all from kneading and rolling each and every conversation into something 'correct', something 'right', something 'neutral'.
Eventually we're all going to look down and see or hands
black and speckled like molded bread..
all because we were afraid to speak -
and we thought we could own our language.
Knowing what to say
and saying the right thing,
they are distant cousins at best.
^Simplification -
lets stop using our words to manipulate each other. If you say something, mean it. If you don't mean it, don't say it.
Spread some love with your words...
haha, a bit cliche -
but that's only because it works.
Eventually we're all going to look down and see or hands
black and speckled like molded bread..
all because we were afraid to speak -
and we thought we could own our language.
Knowing what to say
and saying the right thing,
they are distant cousins at best.
^Simplification -
lets stop using our words to manipulate each other. If you say something, mean it. If you don't mean it, don't say it.
Spread some love with your words...
haha, a bit cliche -
but that's only because it works.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
I remember seeing him in he park, a few years ago. The crooked cane that laid across his lap had seen far fewer seasons change as the man had, yet each knot and crack in the wood made it apparent that the old polished branch was eager to catch up with him. Bundled brown cloth clung to his body like blankets, but as the sun peeked out from the low moving clouds I saw that it was an old tweed coat that he had simply become to small for.
The wind picked up, and I feared for a moment that it would blow the skin right off of his body. But it didn't. The mans eyes closed, and a soft smile edged across his cheeks as red and yellow leaves bustled past him . The shadows under his cheeks shrunk as his head tilted up in a warm salutation to the chill, crisp wind.
He had seen all things come and go. He had watched death and birth from an intimate distance. He had felt every sensation, and he was at peace. The hardships of life had come only so that they might pass, and this moment for him was worth every tear he had ever shed.
Because the wind had never lost its beauty.
The sun had never stopped shining.
Its just that he had come back to it,
with younger eyes
than have ever been mine.
The wind picked up, and I feared for a moment that it would blow the skin right off of his body. But it didn't. The mans eyes closed, and a soft smile edged across his cheeks as red and yellow leaves bustled past him . The shadows under his cheeks shrunk as his head tilted up in a warm salutation to the chill, crisp wind.
He had seen all things come and go. He had watched death and birth from an intimate distance. He had felt every sensation, and he was at peace. The hardships of life had come only so that they might pass, and this moment for him was worth every tear he had ever shed.
Because the wind had never lost its beauty.
The sun had never stopped shining.
Its just that he had come back to it,
with younger eyes
than have ever been mine.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Today I was thinking about how many of my old hobbies I've left behind. I think that I'm going to find them again this semester, and ask them to come back. I'm sure I can't pick them all up again, but there are some I miss especially.
First, I want to pick up my electric guitar again. It might sound silly, but when you're playing a riff that actually sound good, its a pretty powerful feeling.
Second, I'd like to draw again. Maps, specifically. I used to draw layouts and blueprints for fantasy worlds,and I think I'll start again. Maybe I can find the first one I ever drew, I think its back in phoenix.
Finally, I want to start creating languages again. It sounds intensive and well, it is. But its also something you can just pick at in your free time, and come back to when you're ready. I found a bunch of old alphabets and phonetic charts (made before I actually took phonetics), and I think I might utilize some of those.
Ready.
Set.
Go.
First, I want to pick up my electric guitar again. It might sound silly, but when you're playing a riff that actually sound good, its a pretty powerful feeling.
Second, I'd like to draw again. Maps, specifically. I used to draw layouts and blueprints for fantasy worlds,and I think I'll start again. Maybe I can find the first one I ever drew, I think its back in phoenix.
Finally, I want to start creating languages again. It sounds intensive and well, it is. But its also something you can just pick at in your free time, and come back to when you're ready. I found a bunch of old alphabets and phonetic charts (made before I actually took phonetics), and I think I might utilize some of those.
Ready.
Set.
Go.
Appalachia
It would be a returning.
Though our skin has never tasted
the air,
our bones have been in every tree -
in the strings of a dulcimer
and in the moss
worn by the
stones,
which would mark every step.
Meet me there,
when my eyes are gray
and my hands are knotted -
with young eyes
we will see how much the world
can truly give.
Monday, January 24, 2011
I like sitting on porches.
Ok, so that might have sounded a bit....simple. But, what other way to say it? I remember over the summer, my dad and I would sit on the back porch and talk, sipping coffee and sharing stories. Sometimes a hummingbird would cross paths with us, wondering who we were and then darting off, only to forget. I remember the doves, small and gray. They landed on our grass without request.
"Our"...sometimes that word becomes very human.
Its not that I have a desire for anything else... in fact remembering those times puts me into a soft, content bed where I can breathe and watch the sun move through the curtains.
Perhaps one day I'll sit on the porch with a cup of coffee, and watch the birds with a son of my own.
Ok, so that might have sounded a bit....simple. But, what other way to say it? I remember over the summer, my dad and I would sit on the back porch and talk, sipping coffee and sharing stories. Sometimes a hummingbird would cross paths with us, wondering who we were and then darting off, only to forget. I remember the doves, small and gray. They landed on our grass without request.
"Our"...sometimes that word becomes very human.
Its not that I have a desire for anything else... in fact remembering those times puts me into a soft, content bed where I can breathe and watch the sun move through the curtains.
Perhaps one day I'll sit on the porch with a cup of coffee, and watch the birds with a son of my own.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Things I have enjoyed
You know what I should do? Hell, I should have done this a while ago. Its just such a derned good idea!
So here it is -
These are things that I enjoyed about this weekend.
Eating at Kachina. Although the food always wages war with my intestines, its damn worth it. Plus, I got to hear Liz's stories about Mexico, which interested my brain wrinkles.
Going Ice Skating. I did a lot better than I thought I would, and it was damn good to get out of the house.
Being stuck in the lobby of my apt with Becca and playing Dragon Age. Its definitely good to have someone to nerd out with.
Getting Starbucks with Liz. Yeah, the coffee was good and the setting was nice. But We talked about poetry, a cool book idea she had, and a bit of our own childhoods, if I remember correctly. I like those conversations.
Building Rasputin's new play...area.....thing. How great is it to have a hamster around? Pretty great.
The end.
So here it is -
These are things that I enjoyed about this weekend.
Eating at Kachina. Although the food always wages war with my intestines, its damn worth it. Plus, I got to hear Liz's stories about Mexico, which interested my brain wrinkles.
Going Ice Skating. I did a lot better than I thought I would, and it was damn good to get out of the house.
Being stuck in the lobby of my apt with Becca and playing Dragon Age. Its definitely good to have someone to nerd out with.
Getting Starbucks with Liz. Yeah, the coffee was good and the setting was nice. But We talked about poetry, a cool book idea she had, and a bit of our own childhoods, if I remember correctly. I like those conversations.
Building Rasputin's new play...area.....thing. How great is it to have a hamster around? Pretty great.
The end.
Clangour
Take a few steps back, you know.
Yeah,I suppose.
The trick is to feel heroic,
even with your lips shut tight.
Its almost comical,
how everything
would settle back
like dust
in the wake
of the desert.
Yeah,I suppose.
The trick is to feel heroic,
even with your lips shut tight.
Its almost comical,
how everything
would settle back
like dust
in the wake
of the desert.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Interesting, how after reading the passage by Davis I'm still thinking about how much we have changed over time. The thing that I'm thinking about most these days, at least in the context of the essay, is how I seem to have forgotten the innate medicine of the earth.
Ok. Before I sound like a loony, let me explain what I mean. I'm talking about the innate peacefulness that can be found by taking a deep breath outside, or by taking just a few seconds to listen to the wind move.
I was laying on the roof of my apartment building a few days ago. The birds in the woods behind where I live were screaming and squawking, carrying on important meetings and delegations. The first star had come out and the air was cold.
Crisp.
Sharp edged and slow moving.
I can't wait for spring,
to watch the grass grow.
Someone very wise told me
"There is always something to look forward to"
and I think that so long as the ravens fly overhead
and the sun keeps rising
it is definitely, definitely true.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Things that are made
One of my best memories -
when the sky breaks like a seed pod
spreading its blueprint across the earth,
and when all things beyond the man-made
culminate into fiery, passionate particles -
assaulting your lungs with a war cry that exclaims
"I am!"
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
From "The Serpent and the Rainbow"
I woke twice before dawn. By the second time the stars had faded and light cracked the horizon. Venus had moved all the way across the sky, and now it too dimmed. I followed it until my eyes ached. I stared and stared until I couldn't even see the sky. But it was hopeless. Venus was gone. It shouldn't have been. Astronomers know the amount of light reflected by the planet, and we should be able to see it, even in broad daylight. Some Indians can. A few hundred years ago, sailors from our own civilization navigated by it, following its path as easily by day as they did by night. It is simply a skill that we have lost, and I have often wondered
why. Every human mind has the same latent capabilities, but for reasons that have always intrigued anthropologists different people develop them in different ways, and the distinctions, in effect, amount to unconscious cultural choices. In our society, for example, we now think nothing about driving at high speeds down expressways, a task that involves countless rapid, unconscious sensory responses and decisions which, to say the least, would have intimidated our great-grandfathers. Yet in acquiring such dexterity, we have forfeited other skills like the ability
to see Venus, to smell animals, to hear the weather change. Perhaps our biggest choice came four centuries ago when we began to breed scientists. Every society, including our own, is moved by a fundamental quest for unity; a struggle to create
order out of perceived disorder, integrity in the face of diversity, consistency in the face of anomaly. This vital urge to render coherent and intelligible models of the universe is at the root of all religion, philosophy, and, of course, science. What distinguishes scientific thinking from that of traditional cultures is the tendency to seek the shortest possible means to achieve total understanding of their world. We deliberately divide our world, our perceptions, and our confusion into however many particles are necessary to achieve understanding according to our rules of logic. We set things apart from each other, and then what we cannot explain we dismiss with euphemisms. For example, we could ask why a tree fell over in a storm and killed a pedestrian. The scientist might suggest that the trunk was rotten and the velocity of the wind was higher than usual. But when pressed to explain why it happened at the instant when that individual passed, we would undoubtedly hear words such as chance, coincidence, and fate; terms which, in and of themselves, are quite meaningless but which conveniently leave the issue open. Few laymen know or even care to know the principles that guide science; we accept the results on faith, and we simply defer to the accredited experts of the tradition. Yet we scientists
work under the constraints of our own illusions. We assume that somehow we shall be able to divide the universe into enough infinitesimally small pieces, that somehow even according to our own rules we shall be able to comprehend these, and critically we assume that these particles, though extracted from the whole, will render meaningful conclusions about the totality. Perhaps most dangerously, we assume that in doing this, in making this kind of choice, we sacrifice nothing.
But we do.
I can no longer see Venus.
Davis, Wade. The Serpent and the Rainbow. New York: Warner Books, 1985. 207-210.
why. Every human mind has the same latent capabilities, but for reasons that have always intrigued anthropologists different people develop them in different ways, and the distinctions, in effect, amount to unconscious cultural choices. In our society, for example, we now think nothing about driving at high speeds down expressways, a task that involves countless rapid, unconscious sensory responses and decisions which, to say the least, would have intimidated our great-grandfathers. Yet in acquiring such dexterity, we have forfeited other skills like the ability
to see Venus, to smell animals, to hear the weather change. Perhaps our biggest choice came four centuries ago when we began to breed scientists. Every society, including our own, is moved by a fundamental quest for unity; a struggle to create
order out of perceived disorder, integrity in the face of diversity, consistency in the face of anomaly. This vital urge to render coherent and intelligible models of the universe is at the root of all religion, philosophy, and, of course, science. What distinguishes scientific thinking from that of traditional cultures is the tendency to seek the shortest possible means to achieve total understanding of their world. We deliberately divide our world, our perceptions, and our confusion into however many particles are necessary to achieve understanding according to our rules of logic. We set things apart from each other, and then what we cannot explain we dismiss with euphemisms. For example, we could ask why a tree fell over in a storm and killed a pedestrian. The scientist might suggest that the trunk was rotten and the velocity of the wind was higher than usual. But when pressed to explain why it happened at the instant when that individual passed, we would undoubtedly hear words such as chance, coincidence, and fate; terms which, in and of themselves, are quite meaningless but which conveniently leave the issue open. Few laymen know or even care to know the principles that guide science; we accept the results on faith, and we simply defer to the accredited experts of the tradition. Yet we scientists
work under the constraints of our own illusions. We assume that somehow we shall be able to divide the universe into enough infinitesimally small pieces, that somehow even according to our own rules we shall be able to comprehend these, and critically we assume that these particles, though extracted from the whole, will render meaningful conclusions about the totality. Perhaps most dangerously, we assume that in doing this, in making this kind of choice, we sacrifice nothing.
But we do.
I can no longer see Venus.
Davis, Wade. The Serpent and the Rainbow. New York: Warner Books, 1985. 207-210.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Two posts, combined into one.
Post one
"And I am worth fighting for. Me. Myself. I am strong, I am free, I am proud and I am loved by many. There is passion within me that cannot be quelled no matter how much the fearful onslaught of the unknown may dim my vision or claw away at my spirit. In the end, the light will find its way back to me, and I will carry on."
Not a truer thing has been said. You ARE worth fighting for, my Liz. You are so vibrant in every way imaginable. I'm the reigning champion of being in a funk, a daze, a cloud of doubt and distrust... so trust me when I say I understand where you are, and that I absolutely know things will get better for you. This all sounds so cliche, I know. But cliches are rooted in truth and in truth I do love you. But whats more, It make me so proud that you love yourself, or so the quote tells. Amazing is a dull word when set next to you.
~~
Post two.
It makes me wonder what we all hide,
what we all never say.
"Look underneath the floorboards,
for the secrets I have hid"
-Sufjan Stevens
A carefree life is a tall order,
but its what I'm asking for.
"And I am worth fighting for. Me. Myself. I am strong, I am free, I am proud and I am loved by many. There is passion within me that cannot be quelled no matter how much the fearful onslaught of the unknown may dim my vision or claw away at my spirit. In the end, the light will find its way back to me, and I will carry on."
Not a truer thing has been said. You ARE worth fighting for, my Liz. You are so vibrant in every way imaginable. I'm the reigning champion of being in a funk, a daze, a cloud of doubt and distrust... so trust me when I say I understand where you are, and that I absolutely know things will get better for you. This all sounds so cliche, I know. But cliches are rooted in truth and in truth I do love you. But whats more, It make me so proud that you love yourself, or so the quote tells. Amazing is a dull word when set next to you.
~~
Post two.
It makes me wonder what we all hide,
what we all never say.
"Look underneath the floorboards,
for the secrets I have hid"
-Sufjan Stevens
A carefree life is a tall order,
but its what I'm asking for.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
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