Digging

I am the type of person whose mind circles around quotes. Often too unoriginal or too lazy to come up with my own thoughts, I use other people's and just connect the dots so that their words apply to my own situation. This means that I am very good at writing history and political science essays, but lack at other types of writing.

Snowed in this past week at my parent's house, I had to start digging out. Digging through old shoe boxes and stuffed manila envelopes with my name on them. They were stuffed with poems, short stories, e-mails, lyrics, and short summations of various political and philosophical theories. Most of these things were given to me by one person who had a very big impact on the way I thought all throughout high school, I am sure I still think of many things the way he taught me to. About half-way through one stack I found two sheets of yellow paper stapled together. The first was titled 'Quotations of Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche 1844-1900.' These were short, succinct one-liners that must have had some sort of impact on me (or him?) at the time. The second page looked at first like a continuation of Nietzsche, there was no title or anything to distinguish otherwise, but after reading a few quotes I decided that these were very clearly not him. Here is one that caught my eye:

Learn to detach. Don't cling to things, because everything is impermanent. Detachment doesn't mean you don't let the experience penetrate you. On the contrary, you let it penetrate you fully. That's how you are able to leave it. Take any emotion--love for a woman, or grief for a loved one.... If you hold back on the emotions--if you can never get to being detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is. You know what grief is. You can say, "All right. I have experienced that emotion. I recognize that emotion. Now I need to detach from that emotion. I don't have to let it control me. I see it for what it is. Detach.

(By the way, I Googled this and found that it is a quote that, although I hate to admit it, is from Tuesdays with Morrie.)

I think that up until very recently this quote would have been one that I would have adopted as summation of my personal character. Had it not gotten lost in stacks of other quotes, I am sure that I would have typed it up, printed it out, hung it on a bulletin board in my room, and spouted its wisdom to anyone who would let me talk for a few minutes.

I remember about a year ago, driving back from a family Christmas party of a friend that I was visiting, sitting in his Jeep and telling him about how I was convinced that everything that anyone did was motivated out of fear. He looked at me disappointed and said that he didn't think so, and that he hoped I really didn't think that. Maybe that was just me I was talking about, it's hard to tell.

Now I am at a different point though. The thought of detachment makes me sicker than the thought of the pain of all of those different emotions. I want to feel those things fully, completely, dirtily, and I want to hold onto them and not let them go. Like a mother protecting her babies, I want to savagely clutch them to my breast, and desperately fight off anyone who tries to tell me to put them down. I am tired of letting these things go. I want to feel them with or without fear of propriety, disappointment, or regret. I want to let them consume me; I want to stay in bed with these emotions all day, feeding them and not myself. I don't want to compromise, I don't want to be rational, and I don't want to settle. I want to travel around the world chasing it, I want to be made a fool of.

Arg, I don't know, maybe it's just the season to be thinking these sorts of things. To quote my brother (who, knowing him, may have been quoting the Simpsons):

"Don't worry, it's the holidays, you're supposed to feel like crap."

Snow

Drifts

There are places in my parent's backyard where the snow drifts come up and wrap around the blue, green, rusted frame of the trampoline, two point five or three feet high. And then there are places where there isn't a single flake on the ground. More than halfway through the storm, they say, should stop snowing by noon tomorrow. The wind is singing loudly and stirring everything around so much that when I look outside, it feels like I am lying on my side and looking out because everything is falling the wrong direction.

There is a bad taste in my mouth and my lips are half numb. Numbly numb.

Christandloveandmásandchristmasandgiftsandgiveandtakeandfriendsandfami
lyandloveandwantandneedandloveandhurtandabsenceandprivilegeandmisunde
rstandingandcrueltyandstruggleandloveandwrongness are all in the air, getting mixed up with each other and falling the wrong way in the wind out there. Some of these things I believe in, some of them I laugh at, some of them I hope for, and some of them I just play along with. We make big Hollywood movies about some of these things, like the way we make movies about superheroes, and then we wonder why spidersuperbatman doesn't come along and make it all okay. Some of these things we devote our lives to, whether or not we believe they are true. Some of these things are all that we have. The mere existence of some of these things contradicts with the possible existence of others. Some we justify, some we ignore, some we embrace, some we long for, some we can't touch, some we condemn, some we shake our heads or wag our tails at. We are debased and exalted by them. I don't have anything else to say about them now, other than to say 'there they are.' They're making snow angels on top of the trampoline.

Facts:

1. Nachos, tim-tams and coffee make an excellent meal that can be consumed for either breakfast, lunch, dinner, or a late-night snack.

2. Dexter knows a lot more about the history of Latin America than one might originally think. He also eats his share of nachos and tim-tams.

3. I am writing a paper with this thesis: "Contrary to popular opinion, revolutions are very much unlike Twinkies."

4. Everything is going to heck in a hand basket.

5. I am very much ready for winter break.

AAAGHHHPPHAAAAHHH!!!!

sigh.

Rememory

Sticky, salty fingers and a bloody toothbrush,
A cool, clogged porcelain bowl
What was that noise?
In the hallway
Hey, honey, did you hear that?

I bet you five dollars
My skeletons wouldn't get along with yours.
Now look at them
Trading baseball cards
And chewing bubble gum
On the swing set in your backyard.
Can I write you an IOU?

Hey, honey, what was that noise?
Beyond the snoring, the laughing,
the gasping, the coughing,
the wind blowing leaves against the glass.
Did you hear that?
The walls are getting braver.
I forgot. What do I need?
What do you need?
What are we looking for?
I forgot I was looking,
I forgot if it was or was not found.
Hey, honey, did you hear that?
Braver, yes, I think they’ve got some things to say.
Do they remember?

I need you.

I need you
To turn out the light.

The light.

Yes.

That’s better.

I forgot.

Pólvora en la boca

All I want for Christmas is a man with a mask, a pipe, and a headset.

Good Life

Softly now,
You owe it to the world
And everyone knows that you're my favorite girl
But there's some things in life that are not meant to be
I'm not meant for you and you're not meant for me
Here's to our problems
And here's to our fights
Here's to our achings
And here's to you having a Good life
From Me...

And promise you'll have such a
Beautifully happy and painlessly romantic
Good life
From Me
Good Life

--Francis Dunnery

Dice

Dice que no quiere ir
se quiere quedar
Dice que no quiere ver
quiere tocar
Dice que no quiere hablar
quiere escuchar
Dice que no quiere ser
quiere intentar.

Dice que no quiere oír
quiere patear
Dice que no quiere estar
quiere arrancar
Dice no quiere reír
quiere llorar
Dice no quiere saltar
quiere volar

--La Vela Puerca

One say infinity the next say forever

infinidad, para siempre, l'infinité, à jamais, Unendlichkeit, ewig, l'infinità, per sempre, De oneindigheid, voorgoed, a infinidade, eternamente, бесконечность, навсегда, uendelighet, for evig...repeat, repeat

I think it's time for you to that necklace off.

Have You Fed the Fish?

The keys to your heart open the door to the world
You've got to give me two days
And woman I'll make you a girl

Sometimes you've got to rewind to go forward
There's some good times around the corner
But have you fed the fish today?
Have you made your wish today?

--Badly Drawn Boy

Fruit Bowl

She was pretty.
Fucked up.
With dark skin, light eyes
And a green knife in her hand.

He was torn.
Apart.
With an amazing sense of what ought.

They sat together in a room.
Perfumed
By shit and spearmint Lifesavers.

He said please, honey,
Let me be.

The one.

She leaned closer and pressed her lips so close to the side of his head that he could feel her moist words beating the drum of his ear and then slipping down the back of his dusty throat to get deep inside. Listen: rather than fake it with you, I will use the green banana from the fruit bowl and then put it back to ripen after I'm done. You will eat it two days later with Cheerios and milk as part of your healthy, well-balanced breakfast. What a great way to start the day. Personally, I don't care for breakfast.

Laugh now and walk away.
I have got a plane to catch.

The Tim Tam Slam

Everyone is doing 'em

There Are Kittens in the Sewers

Used

to say it, to think it, to mean it, to hear it and think you were true. But now I don't say it, don't think it, don't dare even feel it, but every time I breathe it is there. Now the pain has stopped though, and I think I am getting used to you. Used to think that what I really needed was someone like you to help carry me through. Used to think what you really needed was someone like me. Now how could that be? Now I see that I was the last thing on your mind and the last thing you need is another "I Luv U"er. That's okay, the last thing I need is another "No" giver. Used to ache, now it's gone. Used to care, now I can't.

Karaoke Night

There is a weird sing-off going on in my brain. Ricky Martin and Dolly Parton taking turns and singing duets.

Ricky dice:
Tengo ganas de no tener ganas.

pero Dolly responde:
Or do I ever cross your mind?

¿Quién ganará?

Life in Uncertainty: The Process as the Solution

My Favourite Buildings

My favourite buildings stretch upwards for miles
Remind me somehow of your favourite smiles
Like oak leaves in autumn cascading on stiles
In the rain
--Robyn Hitchcock

My Horoscope

Conversations could turn on a dime early this week, with a shift from anger or distrust to a willingness to let go and move on. Discussing intimate subjects, then, is favored since you're able to express some very difficult emotions without damaging a valued relationship.

I Am Pretty Sure That I Could Have Come Up With These

WASHINGTON - A Pentagon review of Iraq has come up with three options--injecting more troops into Iraq, shrinking the force but staying longer or pulling out.

--The Associated Press

Sitting
On the floor
In an apartment
With a coffee table
Made of puzzles and
Thrown away dishes.

Reading a book
About a band
Whose lead singer
Decided
That there wasn't enough love
In this world for him.

I found this quote about nothing,
I mean, really, it's nothing.
Except it made me think
Of you,
After trying so hard
Not to.

(Translated from German:)
Take that whip out of your hand.
I love you most when I watch you eat.

Seas of Cheese

When the going gets tough
And the stomach acids flow
The cold wind of conformity
Is nipping at your nose
When some trendy new atrocity
Has brought you to your knees
Come with us we'll sail the
Seas of Cheese

--Primus

The other day I passed a man in Boulder who was pushing a bicycle holding all of his worldly possessions. He looked like your typical man-of-the-streets, and when I passed him he appeared to be having a serious conversation with himself. Embarrassed that I had caught him in this, he half-smiled and said "Sorry, but sometimes I talk to myself without realizing it." I looked him in the eyes and said, "It's okay, sometimes I do too."

I wish he had been there with me last night,
skipping, crunching
leaves and
singing:

Down down baby, down by the roller coaster
Sweet sweet baby, I'll never let you go
Shimmy shimmy coca pop shimmy shimmy pow
Shimmy shimmy coco puff shimmy shimmy pow
Grandma grandma sick in bed, she called the doctor and the doctor said:
Let's get the rhythm of the head, Ding Dong
Get the rhythm of the head, Ding Dong
Let's get the rhythm of the hands
Let's get the rhythm of the feet
Let's get the rhythm of the hot dog
Put it all together and what do you get?

Kissed my boyfriend
Naughty naughty
Won't do the dishes
Lazy lazy
Stole a piece of candy
Greedy greedy
Jumped off a building
Crazy crazy
Two chinese men sittin' on a bench
Trying to make a dollar outta eighty five cents
Twist twist
Twist like this
This is how me and my boyfriend kiss

Yeah, I Think I've Got It

24 Things That I Am Tired Of, and 24 Resolutions

1. I am tired of feeling this way.
2. I am tired of being angry.
3. I am tired of hoping.
4. I am tired of thinking.
5. I am tired of wondering.
6. I am tired of being the only one who cares.
7. I am tired of being tired.
8. I am tired of being foolish.
9. I am tired of being stupid.
10. I am tired of not being myself.
11. I am tired of not being a friend.
12. I am tired of not laughing.
13. I am tired of being melodramatic.
14. I am tired of being masochistic.
15. I am tired of all these little voices.
16. I am tired of being sad.
17. I am tired of being sneaky.
18. I am tired of lying.
19. I am tired of having broken fences.
20. I am tired of being irrational.
21. I am tired of being wrong.
22. I am tired of being distracted.
23. I am tired of it not being enough.
24. I am tired of being stuck.

1. I am done feeling this way.
2. I am no longer angry.
3. I will no longer hope.
4. I won't think anymore.
5. I won't wonder anymore.
6. I won't be the only one who cares.
7. I won't be tired anymore.
8. I won't be foolish.
9. I won't be stupid.
10. I will be myself.
11. I will be a friend.
12. I will laugh.
13. I will not blow things out of proportion.
14. I won't hurt myself.
15. I will listen to the big voice.
16. I will be happy.
17. I won't be sneaky.
18. I will be honest.
19. I will mend my fences.
20. I will be rational.
21. I will be right.
22. I will focus.
23. It will be enough.
24. I will be unstuck.

The Proverbial Circle of Life

Today, while sitting at the dining room table eating fish sticks, Cathleen and I watched our spider friend (Charlotte Juliet Antonia Spider) devour a wasp that was laying in the windowsill. She came down the wall and headed very quickly towards the sill, but as soon as she got within a couple of inches of the wasp, she stopped and was very cautious. The wasp was actually already dead, he probably knocked himself out while trying to fly through the double-pane glass, but our little girl was as careful as ever. She moved each leg slowly, watching for any sort of reaction from the wasp, making sure that she could get within striking distance without startling him. It's hard to remember, but it probably took her at least five minutes to travel an inch, always stalking her already dead prey. We think she was showing off for us, showing us just how stealthy she could be. When she had just an inch left to go, she stopped again and waited for another several minutes. I am not quite sure how she would ever kill a living thing if she was this hesitant about a dead thing, but she seems to be doing just fine. Just when I was starting to lose interest, she pounced. She took that last inch in one lightning fast leap, with fangs out and ready to sink them into the wasp's abdomen. After such caution, that last action was the most violent, grotesque, horrible, beautiful thing that I have ever seen. We get so disconnected from that brutal magnificence, sometimes it's nice to have it sneak into our kitchen.

I think I remember from junior high science classes that spiders have a poison in their fangs that liquefies the insides of their prey. I don't know how long this takes, but Charlotte Juliet Antonia sat there with her kill for a very long time. She started out on top of it, then slowly worked her way down, finally lifting the wasp up above her head to suck out every last, juicy drop of its innards. I kept an eye on her for at least 45 minutes, and she was there sucking the whole time. When I went back hours later, she was gone and only a shriveled wasp exoskeleton remained.

Trying to control the world?
I see you won't succeed.

The world is a spiritual vessel
And cannot be controlled.

Those who control, fail.
Those who grasp, lose.

Some go forth, some are led,
Some weep, some blow flutes,
Some become strong, some superfluous,
Some oppress, some are destroyed.

Lao-Tzu

These Fences Need Mending

Melodramatic, sleep-deprived dribble

Last night I went out and sucked down cigarettes like a chain smoker. It didn't matter what people were offering: Parliaments, cigars, Marlboros, Camel lights, cloves...I just went out onto the patio with a drink in one hand and nothing in the other and tried to see what I could find to fill it up. People were friendly as I floated around bumming and making small talk, I kept a smile on my face and never overstayed my welcome.

Everyone has got their religion, yes, and everyone has got their poison; something that they suck down to try to kill whatever painful thing they've got living deep inside themselves. And that poison will kill one thing and then create its own pain, only to be chased away by a new poison. Poison chases poison while the pain chases its tail.

But the good news is that, given enough time and enough smoke, you can make the pain go away.

Tenderness

La Ternura
Oswaldo Guayasamín

I would live on the streets in a cardboard shack...

Dreamscape

I am going to die on the Diagonal Highway.
I know this because I already have the memory
of crumpled metal and shattered glass
scattered across my broken lap.
The wheels are still spinning in the air,
still trying to get somewhere.

You will recognize the car immediately,
but not me, I am already gone.

I know this because, lately, I cannot wake,
and I cannot fall asleep.
My dreams follow me throughout the day,
and then my friends settle into bed with me
to chat until the coffee pot turns on.

In this mist between my eyes and you,
There are tall gray fortresses and insane asylums,
and the faces staring out of the windows
just want to go home.
Alf is standing in the corner smiling at me,
he turns around and comes back
as a naked, tattooed girl
playing the violin and singing sweetly.

On the other side a red stream flows,
from my heart to yours, to theirs,
to water the lawns of the politicians and military generals.
A lily blooms on the playground, but I can't see,
I am sleeping with Vendetta
in a hotel room by the railroad tracks.
He holds a knife to my throat, but I just laugh
as it turns to a leaf and I blow it away.

Now I lie safely beside you,
hold me tight and don't be afraid.
We've got some time left, until I go away,
But I already know when that day will come,
the day when I die on the Diagonal Highway.

Mural de Hidalgo

Jose Orozco

La Nueva Democracia (1945)
David Alfaro Siqueiros

Bliss

is watching a dozen middle-aged, overweight, white guys play half-court basketball on a Sunday morning while screaming at yourself (this does not hurt, this does not hurt, this does not fucking hurt!) and letting everything else slowly drip out of your body and onto the sticky plastic cushion until you can (finally) laugh at yourself again.

Crack in the Window

taken from here

Buddy

"He said that a man should be able to lie at the bottom of a hill with his throat cut, slowly bleeding to death, and if a pretty girl or an old woman should pass by with a beautiful jug balanced perfectly on the top of her head, he should be able to raise himself up on one arm and see the jug safely over the top of the hill." He thought this over, then gave a mild snort. "I'd like to see him do it, the bastard." He took a drag on his cigar. "Everybody in this family gets his goddamn religion in a different package," he commented with a notable absence of awe in his tone.

--J.D. Salinger

Walking Around

It happens that I am tired of being a man.
It happens that I go into the tailor shops and the movies
faded, impenetrable, like a felt swan
navigating on a water of origin and ash.

The smell of barbershops makes me sob out loud.
I want nothing but the repose either of stones or of wool,
I don't want to see any more establishments nor gardens,
nor merchandise, nor glasses, nor elevators.

It happens that I am tired of my feet and my nails
and my hair and my shadow,
It happens that I am tired of being a man.

However, it would be delicious
to scare a notary with a cut lily
or kill a nun with one blow to the ear.
It would be beautiful
to go through the streets with a green knife
shouting until I die of cold.

I do not want to go on being a root in the dark,
hesitant, extended, shivering with dreams,
downwards, in the wet innards of the earth,
soaking it up and thinking, eating every day.

I do not want for my many miseries.
I do not want to continue as a root and as a tomb,
as a solitary tunnel, as a cellar full of corpses,
freezing, dying with pain.

That's why Monday burns like oil
at the sight of me arriving with my jail-face,
and it howls in passing like a wounded wheel,
and its footsteps towards nightfall are filled with hot blood.

And it shoves me along to certain corners, to certain damp houses,
to hospitals where the bones come out of the windows,
to certain cobblers' shops smelling of vinegar,
to streets horrific as crevices.

There are birds the color of sulfur, and horrible intestines
hanging from the doors of the houses which I hate,
there are forgotten sets of teeth in a coffee-pot,
there are mirrors
which should have wept with shame and horror,
there are umbrellas all over the place, and poisons, and navels.

I walk with calm, with eyes, with shoes,
with fury, with forgetfulness,
I pass, I cross offices and stores full of orthopedic appliances,
and courtyards hung with clothes on wires,
underpants, towels and shirts which weep
slow dirty tears.

Walking Around

Sucede que me canso de ser hombre.
Sucede que entro en las sastrerías y en los cines
marchito, impenetrable, como un cisne de fieltro
Navegando en un agua de origen y ceniza.

El olor de las peluquerías me hace llorar a gritos.
Sólo quiero un descanso de piedras o de lana,
sólo quiero no ver establecimientos ni jardines,
ni mercaderías, ni anteojos, ni ascensores.

Sucede que me canso de mis pies y mis uñas
y mi pelo y mi sombra.
Sucede que me canso de ser hombre.

Sin embargo sería delicioso
asustar a un notario con un lirio cortado
o dar muerte a una monja con un golpe de oreja.
Sería bello
ir por las calles con un cuchillo verde
y dando gritos hasta morir de frío.

No quiero seguir siendo raíz en las tinieblas,
vacilante, extendido, tiritando de sueño,
hacia abajo, en las tapias mojadas de la tierra,
absorbiendo y pensando, comiendo cada día.

No quiero para mí tantas desgracias.
No quiero continuar de raíz y de tumba,
de subterráneo solo, de bodega con muertos
ateridos, muriéndome de pena.

Por eso el día lunes arde como el petróleo
cuando me ve llegar con mi cara de cárcel,
y aúlla en su transcurso como una rueda herida,
y da pasos de sangre caliente hacia la noche.

Y me empuja a ciertos rincones, a ciertas casas húmedas,
a hospitales donde los huesos salen por la ventana,
a ciertas zapaterías con olor a vinagre,
a calles espantosas como grietas.

Hay pájaros de color de azufre y horribles intestinos
colgando de las puertas de las casas que odio,
hay dentaduras olvidadas en una cafetera,
hay espejos
que debieran haber llorado de vergüenza y espanto,
hay paraguas en todas partes, y venenos, y ombligos.

Yo paseo con calma, con ojos, con zapatos,
con furia, con olvido,
paso, cruzo oficinas y tiendas de ortopedia,
y patios donde hay ropas colgadas de un alambre:
calzoncillos, toallas y camisas que lloran
lentas lágrimas sucias.

Pablo Neruda

We Know About Time

The fish, the fox, the bees, the stream,
Return, return, return, return.
The birds, the fruit, the weeds, the leaves,
Return, return, return, return.
The flow, the tide, you and I,
Return, return, return.

Why Did I Skip That Part?

Low

Dusk is dawn is day
Where did it go?
I’ve been laughing
Fast and slow
Moving in a still frame
Howling at the moon
Morning found me laughing
Up and down, down
Low low low
Night suits me fine
And morning suits me fine
I’ve been so happy
Way up high, high
In between
Down below
Low low low

I skipped the part about love
It seems so silly and low
Low low low
Low low low

I said the morning
It isn’t your time
Barefoot naked
I can see your lines
It doesn’t bother me
That you are right
Your grass is grassy wet
Your light white is bright
Light white light

I skipped the part about love
It seems so shallow and low
Low low low
Low low low

You and me
We know about time
We know how things go
They come and go
They live and grow
They pass and go
And glow and glow
Up and down
High and low
Low low low
Low low low

I skipped the part about love
It seems so silly and low
I skipped the part about love
It seems so shallow and low
Low low low
Low low low

I like your hands
All full of glory
All full of glory

(R.E.M)

And the red wine flows like red blood like Red #40, through the drains in the cement floor and into my head.

Out damned spot!

Ashes, ashes they all fall.

Strange

So I am sitting here eating pistachio-marshmallow pudding and drinking red wine. And I think to myself, this sure is strange. Life sure is strange. I ask the cat what he thinks about this and he says that back when he lived with the queen of England, they used to sip red wine and eat green pudding after a hard day of ruling the country. He says it's not strange at all. He also says that he did not expect to end up here in Longface after living with the Queen, but he kind of likes it. He says that all those diplomatic issues were giving him ulcers.

Today I attached Pikachu to the handlebars of my motorcycle. I think he'll learn to like his new home. It's probably not what he expected to happen to him after he got out of that little bubble-toy machine, but I think he'll be a better Pokemon because of it.

And then we're back to me, with my dirty spoon and wine glass. In all of my plans for myself, I never imagined having discussions with cats, or riding motorcycles with cartoon characters, or many other things that I find myself doing almost daily. And sometimes it is hard to talk to my other friends who don't know how to relate to these sorts of things. They are living the life that I thought I would be; applying to Ivy League grad schools and working on important internships. It is hard not to get jealous when they talk about these things. But what is it all worth, I wonder, if they don't know how to talk with cats?

Ah hem...

A public service announcement that I would like to make to all generic customers of La Fromagerie:

1) To all of you francophiles, italophiles, or other various types of eurotrash: I do not care about your last trip to Barcelona, the Northern Italian Alps, or the quaint French countryside. I do not care what you ate there, who you saw there, or who you slept with there.Buy your cheese and leave. Au revoir.

2) Additionally, I have no fucking clue what type of white, creamy, buttery table cheese you ate on your Mediterranean cruise last Spring. Most importantly, I don't care. All cheese is white, creamy AND buttery so just buy a wedge of brie, go home and rent Titanic and cry yourself to a nostalgic sleep like the rest of us.

3) Furthermore, we have a lot of kinds of Gouda. There is Willow River plain Gouda, Gouda with mustard seeds, Gouda with caraway seeds, smoked Gouda, double cream Gouda, Arina goat Gouda, sheep Gouda, Gouda aged 12-18 months, Gouda aged at least two years, Aged goat milk Gouda, Boorenkas, Ewephoria, Gooda, Roomano, Prima Donna (aged 6 months), Prima Donna (aged 12 months), Old Amsterdam, Parrano, and I am sure some others that I am not even thinking of. If you want Applewood Smoked Gouda made by your friend's next door neighbor in Connecticut, you're going to have to burn down the apple orchard, the livestock, AND their milk on your own time.

4) There will be a 35% gratuity fee added onto your bill for any of the previous (or similar) issues that I have to deal with. You may leave your tips at the counter.

Thank You.

Rest in peace Crocodile Hunter.

Adventures En El Autobús

Today I am going to start a new series recording the experiences one can have on public transportation. Today's first story: Lady next to me smells so badly of perfume that I want to puke. But I guess if you have to smell of something, perfume is one of your better options. Even so, no one that was dressed like this lady should have to smell of anything.

See? I told you this would be exciting. Stay tuned for more adventures en el autobús.

shadows and games

everyone looks beautiful in their shadow. looks long, looks thin, has perfect posture, looks like you in their shadow. walks up behind me to surprise me, to tap me on my shoulder and say surprise! i came back to you. but the light plays tricks on everyone's shadow. you don't stop, and it's not even you, but the actors are revealed when they pass by, not even thinking about the perfection that they had achieved in their shadow. but lucky for them (and for me), everyone looks like you in their shadow.

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

Once upon a time,

And a very fine time it was,

There was a girl and her friend who dug for clams, watched bald eagles, rode on ferries, traversed high bridges, almost died at high tide, ate blackberries and fish-n-chips until they wanted to puke, sang along to Fisherman's Blues, and strolled Pike Place market,
And they were happy.

I can't...see... what I think anymore because... for think...it.

I've been learning a lot about control lately and thinking a little bit about love (though not really learning too much about it). Here's the dilemma: how do you love without wanting to control? Seems to me first comes the love, then comes the insecurity, then comes the need to control everything so that those big, insecure-monsters don't bite too hard. Adam loved Eve so he named her, thus giving him control (I don't actually have a Bible to confirm this sequence of events, but that's the gist), Sethe loved her kids so she cut her daughter's throat with a hand saw so that she could keep her safe. The only way I can figure it out is that you can't let your love get too thick or too close. You have to keep your distance. Strategy? Stratosphere. Distance. Yes.

Either that or you have to be completely secure.

So here's the question: Is it easier to build a great big fortress out of yourself, or fly yourself to the moon?

While Contemplating M-----------

You won't let anyone else do that to you, and yet you do it to yourself everyday. Why? It's safer that way I think. It's safe until you're dead. But "For a good life, we just might have to weaken." Well, you're drunk now but there's nobody here and you're weak now but there's nobody here. And where does that leave you? Drunk on the green of the eighteenth hole. In fragments. Sentence fragments. Fragments of thought. Fragments of glass on the inside of your leg. Legs crossed wearing a bright red skirt, getting longer by the minute. "The National Security Strategy of the United States of America" in 34 pages. Certainly I can do better than that. "The future was a matter of keeping the past at bay." As simple as that. Look how much paper I saved.

Strategy? Stratosphere. Yes, maybe this was the way it was meant to be.

Brokeback

And Remember...

A rolling stone gathers no moss.

Baseball and Hot Dogs (and Good Friends)

Will cure what ails you.

Pray For Grace

Why must I feel like this today
I'm a soldier but afraid sometimes
To face the things that may
Block the sun from shinin' rays
And fill my life with shades of grey
But still I long to find a way
So today I pray for grace

I take a moment to myself
So I can myself
To feel myself
And be real myself
Life's addictions and afflictions
Cause abrasions from their friction
Sometimes, it's easier to live in fiction
I can run, but I can't hide
From the pains that
Reside deep down inside
There is no pill
That can be swallowed
There is no guru
That can be followed
There's no escapin'
From my own history
Those that I hurt,
And those that hurt me
I was dead for a million years
'Fore I was born and
I'll be dead for a million more
After I'm gone
So I live, to give somethin'
That can live on
Like the way you hum a song when the music's gone
Like the warmth on the sand
When the sun goes down
And I'm sittin' with myself
Nobody else is around but,

Why must I feel like this today
I'm a soldier but afraid sometimes
To face the things that may
Block the sun from shinin' rays
And fill my life with shades of grey
But still I long to find a way
So today I pray for grace

Been a long, long time
Since I been away
Been a long, long time
Since I felt this way
Been a long, long time
I found the words to say
How much I'm grateful
For my life today
'Cause under every cup
You might find a nut
Behind every corner
You might get jacked up
At the end of every rainbow,
You might find gold
The last bite of your sandwich,
Hope you don't find mould
'Cause none of us
Can live the perfect life
The kind that we see on nick at night
And sometimes, we all
Just lose sight
Of the pain that will guide us
From dark into the light
We fall down yes, but we get up,
And sometimes we just need
A little bit of love
To help make it
Through another day
Into the night, into the light,
Into a Saturday
So in the morning when I'm waitin'
For the sun to raise
And my head's a little foggy
Like I'm in a haze
I remind myself that
Everything is gonna be okay
I take a breath, slow down and say....

Why must I feel like this today
I'm a soldier but afraid sometimes
To face the things that may
Block the sun from shinin' rays
And fill my life with shades of grey
But still I long to find a way
So today I pray for grace

(Michael Franti & Spearhead)

Control

Of myself and of no one else. This is the next lesson that I have to learn.

Peace, Child

Deep Deep Deep

Here. Here I am. Am on the edge. Of the deep deep blue, And the deep deep black. Of going forward and going back. But wait, not yet! How did I get here? How does one find oneself on the edge? After taking such great care To even avoid the choice Between the deep deep deep deep And the deep deep deep deeper. Oh yes. That's right. The flashes. The waves. They pull me in then, disgusted, Push me back. Hahaha! So I went. Hahaha! Infinite naivete. Once, I made the choice. The waves pulled, deep deep deep. Into the shallow blue. But, after only having gone so far, Exhausted, collapsed. Beware, what dangers lurk beneath. Hiding, in the deep deep sea. Ghost rocks, jagged, move to Catch your fall. Cushion the blow. Oh, but how to choose The greater degree of treachery? The blue? Whose waves' direction You could not tell? Or the rocks? Lying beneath, Waiting to showcase your pain and agony To all those bored by passers who wanted to see. Yes, yes, now it's easy to see. How one could find oneself Here. Here I am. Am on the edge. But, having been driven back (It turns out the waves were pushing And the winds were blowing Onshore.) The edge is no longer a choice, The edge is not the edge, But only the edge Of a path. Leading me out of the deep deep blue
And into the way.

There, Without

There is a way to get close
Without falling in.
There is a way to go through the woods
Without getting lost.
There is a way to hold a blade
Without turning it on yourself.
There is a way to start a fire
Without getting burned.

When I get there,
I will be without all of this.

The Apologist

They call me the apologist
And now that I'm at peak
You know at first it really hurt
We joke about these things
I've skirted all my diferences
But now I'm facing up
I wanted to apologize for
Everything I was. So

I'm sorry, so sorry
So sorry
So sorry
So sorry
So sorry
So sorry

Did you understand me right?
The people here are good
They tell me what I should have done
And offer what I could
I'm good, all is good
All's well, no complaints
When I fell regret,
I get down on my knees and pray

I'm sorry (so sorry), so sorry (so sorry)
So sorry (so sorry)
So sorry (so sorry)
So sorry (so sorry)
So sorry (so sorry)
So sorry (so sorry)
So sorry

I live a simple life
Unfettered by complex sweets (so sorry)
You think this isn't me? (so sorry)
Don't be weak (so sorry)
There I go (so sorry)
I'm so sorry

Thank you for being there for me
Thank you for listening, goodbye
I can forfeit selfishness
I hope for you that you apply
This happiness
This peacefulness
This peacefulness

I'm sorry (so sorry), so sorry (so sorry)
So sorry (so sorry)
So sorry (so sorry)
So sorry (so sorry)
So sorry (so sorry)
So sorry (so sorry)

I live (so sorry) a simple life (so sorry)
Unfettered (so sorry) by complex sweets (so sorry)
You think this isn't me? (so sorry)
That's so sweet (so sorry, so sorry)
I'm so sorry

Thank you for being there for me
Thank you for listening, goodbye
(rem)

Masquerade!

Haha

Not true.

Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade,
Masquerade!
Hide your face
So the world
Will never find you.

Masquerade!
Every face a different shade,
Masquerade!
Look around--
There's another
Mask behind you.

The Existence of Something

I don't think I'll ever know Florence, but it makes me happy just knowing that it exists and that it is beautiful and that I can imagine what it would be like if I were to go there. I can imagine the type of food that I would eat, what I would see, how it would smell, what kind of people I would meet, and what kind of person I would be there. It may not be true, but it makes the mind happy to entertain the idea. In fact, maybe imagining it is better than actually knowing it. That way everything goes exactly as planned; no one gets hurt, lost or bored there. And no one can take away that imagination, that pretend fantasy that gets me through the day. Today was a day filled with that sort of thing, and I must say it was one of the best days I've had in a long time.

I will have you know that I have a fine sense of propriety. However, I will also have you know that sometimes I find it to be completely useless.

"My name is Eliza Salinger, like the author."

She introduced herself in such a way as to make me wonder whether or not she took herself this seriously all the time. Because I thought she must have been at least half-joking, I made a half-smile and cocked my head to one side. However, she must have taken this as a sign of ignorance, because she continued, "S-A-L-I-N-G-E-R. You know...Catcher in the Rye, Nine Stories...?"

"Right," was the most articulate thing I could come up with to say to Ms. Salinger. Then I thought, "Did you really just spell that out?" She went on to speak very slowly and importantly about James Joyce, as if she were sharing some private conversation that she had with him at a recent cocktail party in her apartment.

You know, Eliza, for some reason I can actually imagine you in one of Salinger's stories. You would be one of the girls that made Holden or Franny so disappointed and frustrated all of the time. Yes, you would make an excellent literary character. In fact, I'm trying to find a way to write a whole short story about you.

That settles one thing though. From now on I am going to introduce myself as "Catherine, like The Great."

Crazy

I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place.
Even your emotions had an echo
In so much space

And when you're out there
Without care,
Yeah, I was out of touch
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much

Does that make me crazy
Does that make me crazy
Does that make me crazy
Probably

And I hope that you are having the time of your life
But think twice, that's my only advice
Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,
Ha ha ha bless your soul
You really think you're in control

Well, I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
I think you're crazy
Just like me

My heroes had the heart to lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember is thinking, I want to be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done

Maybe I'm crazy
Maybe you're crazy
Maybe we're crazy
Probably

(gnarls barkley)

Ah ha!

Now I remember the reason why I write: procrastination. I had forgotten that that's how this whole thing got started all those many months ago. Well now I'm back into classes again (actual classes this time, not fake ones) and all I want to do is capture all these crazy thoughts floating around in my head. Just like I made my bug collection in the fourth grade by netting butterflies in the backyard and then pinning them and displaying them on the foam in my moth-ball scented wardrobe, I want to stay up all night and word-hunt and then pin them down with 12 point font. I know, the stench is almost as bad.

However, tonight all I am going to do is quote. Suprisingly, the most striking thought that I've had today about humanity or anything at all didn't come from anyone who was trying to say anything about the human condition, rather he is a political scientist commenting on bipolarity versus multipolarity in the international arena. But I think it works when talking about one's own, internal arena as well.

"Simplicity breeds certainty; certainty bolsters peace." -- John J. Mearsheimer

So, I wish you all simplicity, certainty, peace and a pleasant night.

Ouroboros

"The Ouroboros often represents self-reflexivity or cyclicality, especially in the sense of something constantly re-creating itself, the eternal return, and other things perceived as cycles that begin anew as soon as they end."

"This symbolizes the cyclic Nature of the Universe: creation out of destruction, Life out of Death. The ouroboros eats its own tail to sustain its life, in an eternal cycle of renewal"

I've been posting a lot of pictures lately and not a lot of words. Even now I don't have anything to actually say, I just feel guilty for not saying anything so I'm type, type, typing away...like I'm trying to reach a quota or something. Actually, for me I think this word-drought is a good thing. It means that I'm pretty happy with the state of things, that I'm busy enough so that I don't have a lot of time to sit and brood, and that I am able to deal with most things in the real world, I don't have to escape to blog world too often. Even though I'm feeling pretty simple-minded for having to revert to using pictures to express things, I think in most cases it's better for me than the alternative. I'd rather be content and simple than deep and tortured (although many people can testify that I fail to reach this content state very often). I want to take a writing class so that I can learn how to express beautiful things, funny things, and just plain stupid things. I wonder if they have such a class. I'm looking for something named "Happy Writing 101."

Dancing Barefoot In The Mud

This is the visual that I get whenever I think of that phrase. Pretty pink toes covered in mud. You can't see it in this picture, but I was also wearing a pretty long blue skirt, also covered in mud. And to this day it strikes me as being the most carefree, innocent thing that I can think of to do. What we need around here is a good rain and a good open field and some good music to go outside and twirl to.

Clouds

Everyday at work we all pool our money and give it to The Marianne so that she will go buy us powerball tickets on her way home. When we win, which we are destined to, I will buy this farm and I will look up at those clouds and not give one damn about them. Until then, I will go study for my clouds test, which is what I should have been doing this whole time. Adieu.

Things You Don't Realize At The Time Can Be Dangerous

This is me with short hair. Cool, no?

Now I would like to draw your attention to the background, where you will see part of my oldest, most favorite poster and part of my fish tank (say hello, Krishna). There is also what appears to be a ghost hovering over my shoulder. Que creepy...

I can't sleep tonight, which I guess is one piece in what is quickly developing into a pattern. I don't know what I want to say other than that. I'm uncomfortable. I'm hot and bothered, if you will.

[oh and I will]

And now, it is time for a tangent...[drum roll please...]...

I do not like lies. Big or small, necessary or un-, black or blue or orange, told to me or by me. I suppose this sounds naive, simple and like the protest of a young, inexperienced twit [which it is]; but I hope that I never grow out of it and I wish that some people never grew into it. That is all.

Oh, and my hair is short now and I like it a lot.

Get a Grip

I imagine that someday I will meet him and I won't like him very much and he will notice and ask me why it is that I don't like him. My reply: "I don't like tortured people." His reply: "Everyone is tortured."

Well, that settles some things. Don't take it personally, I just don't like people very much.

Vroom Vroom

This is me on the Bandit that we sold today. I know it is for the best, but it still made me sad to see it go. I felt like a different person on that bike, like someone I might want to be when I grow up. Oh well, at least I still have the jacket.

Begin Again

There are many things I am and many things I am not. One thing is for sure: I am NOT Paulino Rivera.