Tuesday, March 24, 2009
i used to do handstands for you.
I am in the library and it is 9:17 a.m. and I have not gotten any sleep. Luckily, my homework is now done and I have black coffee in hand which will greatly aid my exhausted body in remaining awake throughout the ever so enthralling Library Information class I have at 10:45. Isn't homework ridiculous? You think they would have come up with a better approach to learning by now. "Worksheets" in college make me want to laugh, cry, and die simultaneously. I just reread these few sentences and I think they get across the state of my mind right now so I guess that's that. Go caffeine!
Monday, March 23, 2009
Just Be Here Now
"I will take you to the Big Tree if you want to go there."
Sat on wet grass intersection of sky and stone, two oaks
extend upward like hands saying alms to oppression.
Lost phrases hang between us like constellations.
I do not have words for your lack of words.
Before us,the souls of stars long dead.
Maintain the illusion.
Is that a cricket or a car alarm?
We are among the trees tonight.
Sat on wet grass intersection of sky and stone, two oaks
extend upward like hands saying alms to oppression.
Lost phrases hang between us like constellations.
I do not have words for your lack of words.
Before us,the souls of stars long dead.
Maintain the illusion.
Is that a cricket or a car alarm?
We are among the trees tonight.
Monday, March 16, 2009
listening
This list is primarily intended to make it easier for myself to continuously watch some videos that i have already wanted to be
continuously watching.
continuously watching.
forever in debt to your priceless advice
night one: Ela and I cooked & ate like kings, bruschetta, stuffing, & lamb w/rosemary
night two: lack of pictures. Fernando & Crowe came to chill. We went to see Jacquie at this strangely fun bar near Fordham in the Bronx, hung out with some bros, made them buy us shots (Jager then Jager then something mysterious that may or may not have been a Kamikaze then Bailey's), hit a Dutch that wasn't ours, chased some bagpipers, then got driven back home to my apartment, & cooked another amazing meal at 3 a.m.
night three: Ela and I found ourselves in the great New York City. We went to Crowe's apartment on the UES and hung out for a little while until we got sick of watching basketball on a flatscreen t.v. and drinking forties. Eventually we made it downtown and walked around for awhile until we found this quaint used bookstore near St. Marks with trippy posters in the window from old Grateful Dead concerts. It was lust at first sight. We spent a half an hour in there, mostly drifting between the philosophy and poetry sections, until we decided that the cash in our pocket wasn't going to miraculously multiply as time wore on. (If only such things were possible.) Our next discovery was a wonderful little used record store that literally made my head hurt because there were so many good albums in it. Ela and I vowed to go back when we had more money and headed out to meet Oli, who was just returning from D.C., at Continental (because who can beat 5 shots for $10). After getting sufficiently drunk, we headed to Lit. On the way, we saw this great mural of a man in a boat on the ocean. We drunkenly admired it and stole a sign that was abandoned nearby that read "NO SMOKING."
At Lit, there was the usual Jager shots, Jack & Coke, Svedka Clementine (in actuality, quite good), some forty-five year old Harley Davidson enthusiast who just had to tell me that I was "seriously sexy," and a few guys who bought Ela and I some Red Stripes. We proceeded to the next bar but apparently were more inebriated than expected and ended up sitting alongside some building in the midst of construction. Somewhere along the line I started telling two of those skinny punk kids who hang out alongside Search & Destroy that they obviously did not understand the philosophy of punk if they were standing on the streets politely begging passersby for money. "Tell them they're fucking slaves! Make them hate you! Why would you want their money that's tarnished by consumerism and everything that you're supposedly against?" Then I made out with them. Then we went home.
night four: Exercise extravaganza. Ela and I hit the gym, dance studio, then went for a walk and run outside.
night five: Back to the city. Entrepreneur time! Ela and I baked cookies that we decorated with icing and went through the clothes we never wear any more and decided to sell them to make some extra money to go out.
We found a corner in Williamsburg. Right under this sign "The Whitest Kids You Know." It wasn't even intentional. How perfect. $132 in a little less than 4 hours. Oh and the best part, we were featured in a documentary which will appear on French t.v. On the off chance that this becomes critically acclaimed, I will leave everything behind in a heartbeat and move to France. Plus, we got to go back to the used bookstore near St. Marks and buy a book each! I got Dublin's James Joyce and Ela got a Saul Williams book of poetry which we read aloud from the whole night.
At night, we ventured back to Continental where upon entrance, we ordered 5 Jager shots each. Then straight to the Jukebox for requests we never even got to hear because there were so many people. Ela chose Kashmir by Zeppelin, I chose Suedehead by the Smiths. We both wanted to hear the Strokes as well. Somewhere along the line we ended up meeting these IT guys who bought us at least 15 tequila shots and Irish car bombs each. Then we made out. Then Sonja, Oli, Ari, and Dave came and we did a few more Jager shots with them. Then we left. I got falafel and shared it with everyone as we walked to the next bar. Oli and I somehow got separated from everyone and decided to head down to the LES. Annex then Dark Room, which was a good time. Then we found everyone else and Ela and I went home.
Spring break was all in all, a great success.
night two: lack of pictures. Fernando & Crowe came to chill. We went to see Jacquie at this strangely fun bar near Fordham in the Bronx, hung out with some bros, made them buy us shots (Jager then Jager then something mysterious that may or may not have been a Kamikaze then Bailey's), hit a Dutch that wasn't ours, chased some bagpipers, then got driven back home to my apartment, & cooked another amazing meal at 3 a.m.
night three: Ela and I found ourselves in the great New York City. We went to Crowe's apartment on the UES and hung out for a little while until we got sick of watching basketball on a flatscreen t.v. and drinking forties. Eventually we made it downtown and walked around for awhile until we found this quaint used bookstore near St. Marks with trippy posters in the window from old Grateful Dead concerts. It was lust at first sight. We spent a half an hour in there, mostly drifting between the philosophy and poetry sections, until we decided that the cash in our pocket wasn't going to miraculously multiply as time wore on. (If only such things were possible.) Our next discovery was a wonderful little used record store that literally made my head hurt because there were so many good albums in it. Ela and I vowed to go back when we had more money and headed out to meet Oli, who was just returning from D.C., at Continental (because who can beat 5 shots for $10). After getting sufficiently drunk, we headed to Lit. On the way, we saw this great mural of a man in a boat on the ocean. We drunkenly admired it and stole a sign that was abandoned nearby that read "NO SMOKING."
At Lit, there was the usual Jager shots, Jack & Coke, Svedka Clementine (in actuality, quite good), some forty-five year old Harley Davidson enthusiast who just had to tell me that I was "seriously sexy," and a few guys who bought Ela and I some Red Stripes. We proceeded to the next bar but apparently were more inebriated than expected and ended up sitting alongside some building in the midst of construction. Somewhere along the line I started telling two of those skinny punk kids who hang out alongside Search & Destroy that they obviously did not understand the philosophy of punk if they were standing on the streets politely begging passersby for money. "Tell them they're fucking slaves! Make them hate you! Why would you want their money that's tarnished by consumerism and everything that you're supposedly against?" Then I made out with them. Then we went home.
night four: Exercise extravaganza. Ela and I hit the gym, dance studio, then went for a walk and run outside.
night five: Back to the city. Entrepreneur time! Ela and I baked cookies that we decorated with icing and went through the clothes we never wear any more and decided to sell them to make some extra money to go out.
We found a corner in Williamsburg. Right under this sign "The Whitest Kids You Know." It wasn't even intentional. How perfect. $132 in a little less than 4 hours. Oh and the best part, we were featured in a documentary which will appear on French t.v. On the off chance that this becomes critically acclaimed, I will leave everything behind in a heartbeat and move to France. Plus, we got to go back to the used bookstore near St. Marks and buy a book each! I got Dublin's James Joyce and Ela got a Saul Williams book of poetry which we read aloud from the whole night.
At night, we ventured back to Continental where upon entrance, we ordered 5 Jager shots each. Then straight to the Jukebox for requests we never even got to hear because there were so many people. Ela chose Kashmir by Zeppelin, I chose Suedehead by the Smiths. We both wanted to hear the Strokes as well. Somewhere along the line we ended up meeting these IT guys who bought us at least 15 tequila shots and Irish car bombs each. Then we made out. Then Sonja, Oli, Ari, and Dave came and we did a few more Jager shots with them. Then we left. I got falafel and shared it with everyone as we walked to the next bar. Oli and I somehow got separated from everyone and decided to head down to the LES. Annex then Dark Room, which was a good time. Then we found everyone else and Ela and I went home.
Spring break was all in all, a great success.
Friday, March 6, 2009
sunshine and clouds and everything proud.
What do you need?
The more I think about it, the more I am convinced I could be happy on the most simple terms: a small place with a large piece of land by the forest or the ocean with an old fashioned oak desk and my smith corona typewriter and large windows and a flower garden.
I want to go to Cuba. Guess I'll have to figure a way to do that while I'm still a student.
The more I think about it, the more I am convinced I could be happy on the most simple terms: a small place with a large piece of land by the forest or the ocean with an old fashioned oak desk and my smith corona typewriter and large windows and a flower garden.
I want to go to Cuba. Guess I'll have to figure a way to do that while I'm still a student.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
beware the ides of march
You know, there's something about all of it that is just inane. An existence where we wander around, trying not to see or touch. The words spoken flowing so freely, sometimes bolstered by meaning, sometimes hollow and can you really ever distinguish? The beautiful is lost to the majority and that my friends, is lamentable. We destroy it instead of ensuring the protection that it is in need of. People do not regularly speak of the moon or trees, do not stand outside each day to watch the sun set, cannot smell the sweet aroma of awareness because it is not necessary to them. They do not need it. People who are happy.
Being "happy" is easy, my friends. Being "happy" is a retreat within the depths of disillusion or ignorance or career or religion or numerous other factors which contribute to the blindness that is becoming increasingly indicative of the society we live in. Does happiness exist? Yes. But perhaps it is a debilitation rather than a sense of relief. One cannot always be happy, but rather, will experience these crystalline moments, examples, lucidations, epiphanies, triumphs and cling to them forever, trying to alleviate the emptiness, and the memory of a time that has now become at best, foreign, and at worst, completely lost to us. We are haunted, my friends, haunted by our happiness and the ghosts it has claimed.
I wish I were not so nostalgic. I also wish that spring would come. But what good are wishes anyway?
Being "happy" is easy, my friends. Being "happy" is a retreat within the depths of disillusion or ignorance or career or religion or numerous other factors which contribute to the blindness that is becoming increasingly indicative of the society we live in. Does happiness exist? Yes. But perhaps it is a debilitation rather than a sense of relief. One cannot always be happy, but rather, will experience these crystalline moments, examples, lucidations, epiphanies, triumphs and cling to them forever, trying to alleviate the emptiness, and the memory of a time that has now become at best, foreign, and at worst, completely lost to us. We are haunted, my friends, haunted by our happiness and the ghosts it has claimed.
I wish I were not so nostalgic. I also wish that spring would come. But what good are wishes anyway?
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
the most remarkable thing about coming home to you is the feeling of being in motion again, it's the most extraordinary thing in the world
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