So...I was thinking about the word 'interesting' the other day. I mean, 'inter-'....'-est'...'-ing'. I came to no good conclusion.
And why not? It's not like I'm a stupid person. I thought longer and harder about this word called 'interesting'. I tried to break down the pieces and derive some type of meaning. I came to no good conclusion.
So...I decided that, instead of just breaking it down, why not just destroy it and changed it all around until it is entirely unrecognizable. Needless to say, I was inspired by my innovative idea.
I took out pieces of the word and jumbled the remaining pieces. The first new word I came up with was "Resting Gin".
I thought to myself: "Resting Gin is interesting. I'm already making progress."
Then I took away more pieces and added yet even more pieces to make the phrase: "I enter stinging."
Again, I thought "My, that phrase is quite the interesting thing. "I enter stinging."
I spent the greater part of the evening coming up with new phrases from pieces I had utterly destroyed. I found this process to be quite amusing and, shall I say, 'interesting'?
After all this, I tried to remember what had given me such a grand idea. What, in fact, was my inspiration?---
Wait!!--"inspire....ration..."
Screw where the idea came from! Let's just roll with it.And I did.
I came up with a whole sleu of phrases from 'inspiration.' And I even started to develop a type story out of them.'Inspire rations' was the first one I came up with. 'Inspire nations' was the second. 'Perspiring ions' was the third. The fourth was even more inventive: 'Rats spiral and spin'.
The picture I had in my head of the fourth phrase was so absolutely vivid. I saw rats everywhere, spiraling out of control, if you will. Then I remembered the 'inspire rations' phrase. From this I developed a one sentence story-line, which will inspire me further down the road I'm sure:
We need to ration the rats because they are spiralling out of control, and the ions have to work hard(hence their perspiring) to inspire nations to ration the rats.
[Make sense?]
S.s fratello
1.28.2009
1.22.2009
Press Two
Press Two for world peace.
Press Two for a civil war.
Press Two for equality.
Press Two for discrimination.
Press Two for a long term commitment.
Press Two for a broken heart.
Press Two to change the world.
Press Two to be changed.
Press Two to make a call.
Press Two to answer.
Press Two for horizontal.
Press Two for vertical.
Press Two for the answers.
Press Two to offer a solution.
Press Two to end the world.
Press Two for a happy ending.
S.s fratello
Press Two for a civil war.
Press Two for equality.
Press Two for discrimination.
Press Two for a long term commitment.
Press Two for a broken heart.
Press Two to change the world.
Press Two to be changed.
Press Two to make a call.
Press Two to answer.
Press Two for horizontal.
Press Two for vertical.
Press Two for the answers.
Press Two to offer a solution.
Press Two to end the world.
Press Two for a happy ending.
S.s fratello
It's Not Because
She's a parrot.
I mean, she's a nice girl and all,
she's just a parrot.
She's all fancied up today--you know?--trying to fit in; but everything isshut off to her------
But that's not because she's a parrot.
She misunderstood her homework and
wasn't prepared for class today.
Maybe she's the only one who was stupid enough to misunderstand the homework------
But that's not because she's a parrot.
She feels worthless and insignificant------
but that's not because she's a parrot.
She tries hard and still fails------
but that's not because she's a parrot.
She doesn't fit in anywhere and tries so hard to------
but that's not because she's a parrot.
It's all because she doesn't [want] to be a parrot.
It's not because she already [is].
S.s fratello
I mean, she's a nice girl and all,
she's just a parrot.
She's all fancied up today--you know?--trying to fit in; but everything isshut off to her------
But that's not because she's a parrot.
She misunderstood her homework and
wasn't prepared for class today.
Maybe she's the only one who was stupid enough to misunderstand the homework------
But that's not because she's a parrot.
She feels worthless and insignificant------
but that's not because she's a parrot.
She tries hard and still fails------
but that's not because she's a parrot.
She doesn't fit in anywhere and tries so hard to------
but that's not because she's a parrot.
It's all because she doesn't [want] to be a parrot.
It's not because she already [is].
S.s fratello
1.21.2009
To My Right
Beyond. Balloons. Marathon. Cycles. Blue House..Off Road. Black Jack.Log Truck. Trailer. Miles of Fences.
Moss. Chain. BArk. Wit. Excellence. The "V".
Finest Green. Shrubbery. Fat Stacks.60.
Boop. Clusters. White Timber.
Word List.What It's Like.
Rock. Sani-Can. No-Zone.
Yellow House. Lantern.
Saint Helen.
Battle Grounds. Coffee.
Geek Love.Orange Barrier.
Limbless. Cross-legged. It's.
Motorcycle. 2:02. Silo. Community.
Gated. Rust. Hanger. Some of the time.
The inspection. Yours. Grass Dancing. Car.
Say those silly things. You know. Laughing.
Road trip.Games. Of love. Of war. White teeth of a whale. Along.Joking. Scenery. Hills. Trees on White Mountains. Fast-paced road.
The engine hiccuped.
S.s fratello
Moss. Chain. BArk. Wit. Excellence. The "V".
Finest Green. Shrubbery. Fat Stacks.60.
Boop. Clusters. White Timber.
Word List.What It's Like.
Rock. Sani-Can. No-Zone.
Yellow House. Lantern.
Saint Helen.
Battle Grounds. Coffee.
Geek Love.Orange Barrier.
Limbless. Cross-legged. It's.
Motorcycle. 2:02. Silo. Community.
Gated. Rust. Hanger. Some of the time.
The inspection. Yours. Grass Dancing. Car.
Say those silly things. You know. Laughing.
Road trip.Games. Of love. Of war. White teeth of a whale. Along.Joking. Scenery. Hills. Trees on White Mountains. Fast-paced road.
The engine hiccuped.
S.s fratello
1.12.2009
She Simply Smiled
She smiled at me. That was it: just a smile. I was standing across the room and she had just gotten up to walk out of the room. As she passed, she just smiled. (I'm not quite sure if she was smiling directly at me, or just in my general direction) I wonder if she knows how much that smile meant to me. It was just a smile. One question that keeps going through my mind is why she smiled at me? Why did she smile at me?
I have been feeling worthless all day, all week! I didn't want to go out in public...see people...deal with people. But I did. People gave me simple compliments and I brushed them off by saying "ok...whatever..." I didn't feel worthy of any compliments. I wasn't worthy. I believed those compliments were lies, given by complete strangers.
And then she smiled at me. She is a friend. I know she meant it. She doesn't know what I am going through. I don't know why she did smile at me. But nonetheless, she smiled at me. A simple smile. That's all it was: a smile. It meant so much! I felt so good. I felt like I meant something. A simple smile from a friend. She smiled at me.
Thank you.
S.s fratello 2009
I have been feeling worthless all day, all week! I didn't want to go out in public...see people...deal with people. But I did. People gave me simple compliments and I brushed them off by saying "ok...whatever..." I didn't feel worthy of any compliments. I wasn't worthy. I believed those compliments were lies, given by complete strangers.
And then she smiled at me. She is a friend. I know she meant it. She doesn't know what I am going through. I don't know why she did smile at me. But nonetheless, she smiled at me. A simple smile. That's all it was: a smile. It meant so much! I felt so good. I felt like I meant something. A simple smile from a friend. She smiled at me.
Thank you.
S.s fratello 2009
Alibis
It was first finding a job at the mall.
Then it was going out and finding a job elsewhere.
Then it was going to the library.
LIES! ALL LIES!
S.s fratello
Then it was going out and finding a job elsewhere.
Then it was going to the library.
LIES! ALL LIES!
S.s fratello
Nom de Plume
So, I figured that if I am to become a serious writer, I need a nom de plume: a pen name. I thought not all too hard and long for a name that would be suitable and mean something to me. I came up with:
S.s fratello
The first "S" stands for [Seymour], a name that describes the older side of me, simply because it reminds my sister's friend of an old man name. Seymour is my "ego", the parent side(coined by Freud, who discussed the id, the ego, and the superego.) Seymour keeps me in line....that is when I listen to it....
The second "s" stands for [Sillard], the artsy side of me who wants to create and has no limitations. Seymour keeps Sillard in check.
Fratello is whimsical and freethinking and spontaneous beyond degree. It never listens to Seymour, my parent personality. It instead sides with Sillard, the spontaneous freethinker. So, you do the math: Two against one. My artsy spontaneous freethinking wins [most] of the time; but I still decide to keep Seymour around.
So, there you have it: S.s fratello. My nom de plume.
Signed,
S.s fratello
S.s fratello
The first "S" stands for [Seymour], a name that describes the older side of me, simply because it reminds my sister's friend of an old man name. Seymour is my "ego", the parent side(coined by Freud, who discussed the id, the ego, and the superego.) Seymour keeps me in line....that is when I listen to it....
The second "s" stands for [Sillard], the artsy side of me who wants to create and has no limitations. Seymour keeps Sillard in check.
Fratello is whimsical and freethinking and spontaneous beyond degree. It never listens to Seymour, my parent personality. It instead sides with Sillard, the spontaneous freethinker. So, you do the math: Two against one. My artsy spontaneous freethinking wins [most] of the time; but I still decide to keep Seymour around.
So, there you have it: S.s fratello. My nom de plume.
Signed,
S.s fratello
1.11.2009
Old Photographs
I was looking through all my files for a particular photograph and I came across these old photographs that I kinda forgot that I had. So...here they are.
Some night city-scape. I believe it was Valentine's Night.
She was out on Valentine's Night. I thought it was quite cute that she was carrying a rose.
This guy looked "pretty" to me. He was in a group of people who were giving "carriage" rides downtown on Valentine's Night.
This woman's looks were so intriguing. I loved her tattoo. She was almost as exquisite as the statue outside of Chinatown.
I don't remember exactly what this is, but it looked cool.
This kid was playing in the park with his dad and sister.
It was a really hot day that I shot this photo. I couldn't believe he was wearing all those clothes!
This man asked me for 50 cents so he could buy a beer.
Some night city-scape. I believe it was Valentine's Night.
She was out on Valentine's Night. I thought it was quite cute that she was carrying a rose.
This guy looked "pretty" to me. He was in a group of people who were giving "carriage" rides downtown on Valentine's Night.
This woman's looks were so intriguing. I loved her tattoo. She was almost as exquisite as the statue outside of Chinatown.
I don't remember exactly what this is, but it looked cool.
This kid was playing in the park with his dad and sister.
It was a really hot day that I shot this photo. I couldn't believe he was wearing all those clothes!
This man asked me for 50 cents so he could buy a beer.
1.10.2009
1.09.2009
The Dog Ran away from Emily
Emily sat on the rug, playing with her dolls.
She had three dolls.
The first doll she named Anne, with ragged hair and tearing clothes.
The second doll she named Leah, who was always fancied up.
The third doll she named Bella, who was supposedly younger than the others.
(Although one would not be able to tell that fact).
Emily sat sadly on the rug, playing with her dolls.
She tried to fix the looks of Anne, trying to make her look better.
(Anne never did).
Emily tossed her aside.
Emily made Leah into a snob, who was mean to Bella.
She set Leah into time-out for being a "bad girl."
She picked up Bella, her favorite doll.
Emily threw her into the air and caught her as she fell back down.
Emily liked this game...for a little while.
Once when Emily tossed her into the air, she didn't catch Bella when she came back down.
Bella was injured, so Emily put her aside, pretending that she was in the hospital.
Emily sat boredly on the rug.
She twisted her thin blonde hair and eventually made two braids.
She took the hair ties from Anne and used them to keep her braids in.
She looked around the room with wide blue eyes, but she soon became bored with her surroundings.
She looked at her outfit. She wore a brown and pink paisley jumper, with green striped knee socks, and a simple white long sleeved shirt: it was becoming chilly outside. It was Fall.
She stood to her feet and peered out the front window.
No sign of Dog.
Dog was Emily's absolute favorite.
She bonded with Dog so well.
Dog was docile by nature, in part due to his breed.
He reminded Emily of a cookies and cream milkshake(because of his coloring).
Emily did name him Cookie, but thought that it was quite a feminine name.
She couldn't think of a masculine name, so she just called him Dog.
When Emily came home from school, Dog was there, patiently waiting for her arrival.
She played with Dog.
They played catch.
They played outside.
They went to the park together.
They were playmates.
They ate together.
They slept together.
They even read together.
Dog was Emily's only companion.
Emily's other toys were very soon jealous, once they realized that Emily only played with Dog.
She had not been in her toy room since her family bought the Dog.
They were a good match for each other.
And then one day Emily's world crashed.
She skipped up the stony sidewalk to her house with a grin on her face.
She was determined to have fun with Dog today.
She was going to take him to the park today, as a surprise.
She walked into the front door and there was no sign of Dog anywhere.
She ran throughout the house yelling "DOG!! DOG?!?!? Where are you, DOG??!?!?!?!"
He never came to her.
She wept and wept and wept. Her mom arrived home and Emily told her the news.
They both went around the neighborhood asking if anyone had seen the Dog.
No one had.
They called the police.
They posted signs.
Three months passed:
Nothing.
Emily's parents suggested getting another pet, but Emily wouldn't hear it.
In fact, she became quite angry if anyone suggested it.
The the first two months, she didn't go to the park, she didn't even play with any of her other toys.
She just sat on the rug in the front room, waiting for Dog to come back to her.
He never did.
Emily eventually did start playing with her other toys, but became bored with them quite quickly.
She never got bored of Dog.
None of her other toys seemed to quite fill the space that Dog had left.
Emily often sat on the rug, wondering exactly why Dog had run away.
She fantasized about his becoming another little girl's best friend, or of starting a dog family somewhere.
She thought he had become the superhero of dogs, saving stray dogs and whatnot.
But she didn't even think of the possibility that he would just ran away to get away from her.
Not a day went by that Emily didn't think of Dog.
Not a day went by when she didn't sit on the front rug and hope for him to return.
Not a day went by that Emily didn't miss Dog.
The Dog ran away from Emily.
She had three dolls.
The first doll she named Anne, with ragged hair and tearing clothes.
The second doll she named Leah, who was always fancied up.
The third doll she named Bella, who was supposedly younger than the others.
(Although one would not be able to tell that fact).
Emily sat sadly on the rug, playing with her dolls.
She tried to fix the looks of Anne, trying to make her look better.
(Anne never did).
Emily tossed her aside.
Emily made Leah into a snob, who was mean to Bella.
She set Leah into time-out for being a "bad girl."
She picked up Bella, her favorite doll.
Emily threw her into the air and caught her as she fell back down.
Emily liked this game...for a little while.
Once when Emily tossed her into the air, she didn't catch Bella when she came back down.
Bella was injured, so Emily put her aside, pretending that she was in the hospital.
Emily sat boredly on the rug.
She twisted her thin blonde hair and eventually made two braids.
She took the hair ties from Anne and used them to keep her braids in.
She looked around the room with wide blue eyes, but she soon became bored with her surroundings.
She looked at her outfit. She wore a brown and pink paisley jumper, with green striped knee socks, and a simple white long sleeved shirt: it was becoming chilly outside. It was Fall.
She stood to her feet and peered out the front window.
No sign of Dog.
Dog was Emily's absolute favorite.
She bonded with Dog so well.
Dog was docile by nature, in part due to his breed.
He reminded Emily of a cookies and cream milkshake(because of his coloring).
Emily did name him Cookie, but thought that it was quite a feminine name.
She couldn't think of a masculine name, so she just called him Dog.
When Emily came home from school, Dog was there, patiently waiting for her arrival.
She played with Dog.
They played catch.
They played outside.
They went to the park together.
They were playmates.
They ate together.
They slept together.
They even read together.
Dog was Emily's only companion.
Emily's other toys were very soon jealous, once they realized that Emily only played with Dog.
She had not been in her toy room since her family bought the Dog.
They were a good match for each other.
And then one day Emily's world crashed.
She skipped up the stony sidewalk to her house with a grin on her face.
She was determined to have fun with Dog today.
She was going to take him to the park today, as a surprise.
She walked into the front door and there was no sign of Dog anywhere.
She ran throughout the house yelling "DOG!! DOG?!?!? Where are you, DOG??!?!?!?!"
He never came to her.
She wept and wept and wept. Her mom arrived home and Emily told her the news.
They both went around the neighborhood asking if anyone had seen the Dog.
No one had.
They called the police.
They posted signs.
Three months passed:
Nothing.
Emily's parents suggested getting another pet, but Emily wouldn't hear it.
In fact, she became quite angry if anyone suggested it.
The the first two months, she didn't go to the park, she didn't even play with any of her other toys.
She just sat on the rug in the front room, waiting for Dog to come back to her.
He never did.
Emily eventually did start playing with her other toys, but became bored with them quite quickly.
She never got bored of Dog.
None of her other toys seemed to quite fill the space that Dog had left.
Emily often sat on the rug, wondering exactly why Dog had run away.
She fantasized about his becoming another little girl's best friend, or of starting a dog family somewhere.
She thought he had become the superhero of dogs, saving stray dogs and whatnot.
But she didn't even think of the possibility that he would just ran away to get away from her.
Not a day went by that Emily didn't think of Dog.
Not a day went by when she didn't sit on the front rug and hope for him to return.
Not a day went by that Emily didn't miss Dog.
The Dog ran away from Emily.
Seen a Saw
I seen a saw today, I did.
I seen a table saw, I seen it, I did.
I seen a band saw, I did.
I seen a mitor saw, I seen it, I did.
I told you I seen a saw today, I seen it, I did.
I used a saw today, I did.
I used not a table saw, I didn't.
I used a band saw, I used it, I did.
I used a mitor saw, I used it, I did.
I told you I used a saw today, I used it, I did.
I seen it.
I used it.
I did.
I seen a table saw, I seen it, I did.
I seen a band saw, I did.
I seen a mitor saw, I seen it, I did.
I told you I seen a saw today, I seen it, I did.
I used a saw today, I did.
I used not a table saw, I didn't.
I used a band saw, I used it, I did.
I used a mitor saw, I used it, I did.
I told you I used a saw today, I used it, I did.
I seen it.
I used it.
I did.
1.06.2009
Exquisite Corpse
The Surrealists developed the exquisite corpse, starting with a group of writers. They sat in a group and wrote down a word or a phrase of words, covering all of the words except the last one they wrote. The next writer would start a phrase with the previous writer's word and so on. By the end, the writers had developed a poem. Drawers and painters soon caught onto this exquisite corpse and did paintings this way.
It really only works with a group of people, but I did all of these alone(mainly because none of my family was interested in it--figures...)
--I love words can hurt me alot of things are beautiful woman are strong winds can blow me off my feet smell--
--Christmas trees are in a forest of pineapples and cottage cheese quesadillas in a restaurant host a party all night falls a season--
--Peppermint patties of beef sandwiches of peanut butter and jelly in my belly of the whale is huge house we live in love--
--Youthful looks are deceiving devils are around us together we love and peace heals wounds are deep cuts in line--
--Ready set go to church meets Sunday drives me insane asylum for crazy people walk fast break time to go--
--lock and load 'em up is high on drugs are bad men kill a mockingbird caws are loud music is beautiful day--
--play games of love and war kills innocent people fill the earth is a planet revolves around the sun shines brightly--
--It's never too late night falls of water is necessary evil abounds--
--She wonders of the world peace prize cup of gold glitters and sparkles are scintillating diamonds are forever love is highly over-rated--
www.exquisitecorpse.com
It really only works with a group of people, but I did all of these alone(mainly because none of my family was interested in it--figures...)
--I love words can hurt me alot of things are beautiful woman are strong winds can blow me off my feet smell--
--Christmas trees are in a forest of pineapples and cottage cheese quesadillas in a restaurant host a party all night falls a season--
--Peppermint patties of beef sandwiches of peanut butter and jelly in my belly of the whale is huge house we live in love--
--Youthful looks are deceiving devils are around us together we love and peace heals wounds are deep cuts in line--
--Ready set go to church meets Sunday drives me insane asylum for crazy people walk fast break time to go--
--lock and load 'em up is high on drugs are bad men kill a mockingbird caws are loud music is beautiful day--
--play games of love and war kills innocent people fill the earth is a planet revolves around the sun shines brightly--
--It's never too late night falls of water is necessary evil abounds--
--She wonders of the world peace prize cup of gold glitters and sparkles are scintillating diamonds are forever love is highly over-rated--
www.exquisitecorpse.com
1.04.2009
The Singles' Side
I hear them whispering "Come over to the Singles' Side...come over."
I try to ignore them, but again they say "Come over to the Singles' Side...come over."
Again I brush them off with grave disinterest.
More insistent they say again "Come over to the Singles' Side...come over."
I look all around to see if anyone can see me. No one can.
I look around again just to be sure. I am sure.
Ever hesitantly I walk over to the Singles' Side, leaving my boyfriend behind.
They celebrated when I came into their presence.
I am curious as to their motives for my wanting to join them.
I question them: "Why do you want me to join your side?"
They reply, in unison, "Look at the freedom we have...Look."
I looked at them dancing wildly about. I thought, "If this is what they call freedom, I guess they have it."
I turn to them and say, "Yes, I suppose you do have freedom, but are you singles [happy]?" I emphasize.
A woman stepped forward; I assumed her to be the leader of the Singles' Side.
"Listen," she started, "We've [all] been hurt by someone we loved. We just don't want that to happen again. We don't want to get hurt again...so, we joined the Singles' Side. We support and love each other." She stepped back into the group and seemingly disappeared.
Before I could speak in reply to her statement, a gentleman stepped out of the group.
He seemed to be full of nervousness and very unsure of himself. He cleared his throat before he spake.
"W-Well," he stuttered, "Some of us have been hurt while in a relationship," he gestured towards some others in the crowd. He continued: "...but, others of us have never been in a relationship." He pointed to himself. "People like me have known rejection all of our lives...and that's [all] we know." He stepped back into the crowd.
I gathered my scattered thoughts and began to speak, until another woman stepped out of the crowd and cut me off.
"Now, I know what you're going to say. You're gonna say 'Well, I'm sorry that you all have been hurt but I'm happy; so we can both go our separate ways and live however we want.'....We don't want you to pity us or feel sorry for us though. In fact, it's quite the opposite. We feel sorry for [you]."
She still stood our from the crowd and waited for my response.
"Well, wow! I'm not quite sure how you knew I was going to say that, but I totally understand where you are coming from. Although, I'm a little unsure of why you feel sorry for [me]..."
"We are here to [warn] you. You [will] be hurt sooner or later. We are trying to save you from that happening. We all know what it feels like to be hurt and it sucks. We don't want anymore people to experience that type of hurt. We are [saving] you."
She stepped back into the crowd and in unison they chanted "Come over to the Singles' Side...come over....Come over to the Singles' Side...come over.....Come over to the Singles' Side...come over.....Come over to the Singles' Side....come over...."
Their voices faded.
"I understand you all want the best for everybody but I am really quite happy and my boyfriend is too...we are [all] going to get hurt by people whether we are single or in a relationship...it's how you react to being hurt. Whether you get angry and bitter or whether you make your relationship stronger as a result of it. I'm really truly sorry you all have been hurt but you guys need to just get over it. Move on! Forgive and forget. I mean, after all, who really loves the single life???"
The crowd mumbled but no one dared step forward to say anything.
"It was nice talking to you but I really must go back to the other side now....I have a date with my boyfriend." I smiled and walked away.
I heard their mumblings as I walked away. In unison, I heard them start to mechanically chant those words again: "Come over to the Singles' Side....come over.......Come over to the Singles' Side....come over......Come over to the Singles' Side....come over.......Come over to the Singles' Side....come over....Come over to the Singles' Side....come over........"
Sighs on the Bench
He's just a decrepit geezer.
With white hair, glasses, and an always present cane, he journeys to the bench everyday.
His frail, pruned body walks slowly the path into the park.
He turtle-walks ten feet...just ten, not eleven, and stops.
He slowly breathes in and out and sits on the first bench.
He smiles delightfully at the playing children.
He sits ten seconds...just ten, not eleven, and slowly rises to his feet and starts on the path again.
He walks another ten feet, just ten, not eleven, and stops.
He breathes in and out and sits on the second bench.
He smiles delightfully at the mothers.
He sits ten seconds, just ten, not eleven, and slowly again rises to his feet and starts on the path again.
He follows this same pattern for the third bench, this time smiling at the fathers.
Again he rises and places his frail body at the fourth bench to rest.
He smiles at the other geezers in the park.
He stays at the fourth bench awhile longer, mustering up the remaining strength he had.
He stood, leaving his cane near the fourth bench.
He doesn't smile at anyone around him.
He walks ever slowly with a deep limp, keeping his eyes only on the fifth bench.
He finishes walking the ten feet between the benches.
He stops in front of the fifth bench. His eyes light up.
He turns his body and sits down, right beside his beloved.
He grins largely, like a little boy and finally lets out a loud sigh.
He smiles at his beloved again.
--
Everyday he walks the park's path.
Everyday he stops at every bench to rest.
Everyday he smiles at everybody.
Everyday he sees his beloved and smiles.
Everyday he sits on the fifth bench and sighs.
Everyday.
With white hair, glasses, and an always present cane, he journeys to the bench everyday.
His frail, pruned body walks slowly the path into the park.
He turtle-walks ten feet...just ten, not eleven, and stops.
He slowly breathes in and out and sits on the first bench.
He smiles delightfully at the playing children.
He sits ten seconds...just ten, not eleven, and slowly rises to his feet and starts on the path again.
He walks another ten feet, just ten, not eleven, and stops.
He breathes in and out and sits on the second bench.
He smiles delightfully at the mothers.
He sits ten seconds, just ten, not eleven, and slowly again rises to his feet and starts on the path again.
He follows this same pattern for the third bench, this time smiling at the fathers.
Again he rises and places his frail body at the fourth bench to rest.
He smiles at the other geezers in the park.
He stays at the fourth bench awhile longer, mustering up the remaining strength he had.
He stood, leaving his cane near the fourth bench.
He doesn't smile at anyone around him.
He walks ever slowly with a deep limp, keeping his eyes only on the fifth bench.
He finishes walking the ten feet between the benches.
He stops in front of the fifth bench. His eyes light up.
He turns his body and sits down, right beside his beloved.
He grins largely, like a little boy and finally lets out a loud sigh.
He smiles at his beloved again.
--
Everyday he walks the park's path.
Everyday he stops at every bench to rest.
Everyday he smiles at everybody.
Everyday he sees his beloved and smiles.
Everyday he sits on the fifth bench and sighs.
Everyday.
Journey of the Flurries
I'm on a journey following the way of the flurries.
The flurries lead me this way and that--never straight.
The flurries take me over the bridge.
They take me into the cave.
The flurries lead me through the forest.
The flurries lead me home.
The flurries lead me this way and that--never straight.
The flurries take me over the bridge.
They take me into the cave.
The flurries lead me through the forest.
The flurries lead me home.
1.01.2009
Holding Me Hostage
Rain beating on the rooftop.
I sit inside: ipod by my side, sipping hot tea.
I open the book and read and read and read.
With each passing page, I find myself more lost inside of a fiction world--
A world that I have created.
The rain holds me hostage inside.
I open the window 'side me
to hear the raindrops beat.
The wind howls.
Chills run down my spine.
I rise from my seat and start the fire.
I snatch a blanket from underneath the side-table.
Although it's all fake, I am subject to the rain's power:
It keeps me hostage inside.
I read on and on and finally finish the book,
the rain still beating hard upon the rooftop.
I close the hard-backed book and look up.
I am no longer in a fiction world.
But I am still, more so than ever,
still kept hostage by the rain.
Do I dare venture outside?
Do I dare try to escape the rain's wrath
that keeps me inside?
A determination like no other wells up inside me.
I suit up, preparing myself to face the rain's torments.
With hat and coat and boots, I opened the door.
The wind howled again and slammed the door in my face!
I succumbed to the rain's power and sat back in my seat,
and cuddled with the blanket again.
I picked up another book and soon found myself lost in another fiction world--
the rain always keeping me hostage inside.
I sit inside: ipod by my side, sipping hot tea.
I open the book and read and read and read.
With each passing page, I find myself more lost inside of a fiction world--
A world that I have created.
The rain holds me hostage inside.
I open the window 'side me
to hear the raindrops beat.
The wind howls.
Chills run down my spine.
I rise from my seat and start the fire.
I snatch a blanket from underneath the side-table.
Although it's all fake, I am subject to the rain's power:
It keeps me hostage inside.
I read on and on and finally finish the book,
the rain still beating hard upon the rooftop.
I close the hard-backed book and look up.
I am no longer in a fiction world.
But I am still, more so than ever,
still kept hostage by the rain.
Do I dare venture outside?
Do I dare try to escape the rain's wrath
that keeps me inside?
A determination like no other wells up inside me.
I suit up, preparing myself to face the rain's torments.
With hat and coat and boots, I opened the door.
The wind howled again and slammed the door in my face!
I succumbed to the rain's power and sat back in my seat,
and cuddled with the blanket again.
I picked up another book and soon found myself lost in another fiction world--
the rain always keeping me hostage inside.
Happy [Old] Years
Well, I wasn't actually going to write anything in honor of the New Year: 2009. But, everybody else was doing it(..."and was jumping off the bridge" as well...). And as a writer, I felt an obligation to write something; since I'm no good at anything else. With that being said, I hereby now dedicate this note to, surprising as it may be, not the [New] Year, but in fact the [Old] One.
------------
I have given up on many things in my short life. One of those being setting New Years Resolutions. I never had the self-discipline to carry any of them out. So the hubbub of making resolutions seems rather pointless to me.
-
Everybody goes to a party on New Years Eve and brings in the New Year on a high of friends, family, and alcohol. I'll take any excuse to have a party. I thank the New Year for coming just so that I can party. But for nothing else.
-
So you want to know my real reason for hating the arrival of the New Year? Simply put: I have a problem [moving on]. Yeah, that's right. I have a problem moving on. And with the New Year, we are supposed to forget all of that and move forward with an eagerness and weightlessness, after having our burdens(extra baggage) lifted from our backs. But I have a problem letting that stuff go. What is "that stuff" you ask. I'll tell: mistakes, mostly, stupid stupid mistakes...regrets: the should haves, the could haves(in psych they call this "musterbating")...the good times: and the times that can never be again...the friends that leave...the friendships that fall apart...blah blah blah.
It almost seems as though I don't [want] to let the stuff go. Almost as if that is the only thing that defines me....and it does.
When the New Year arrives, it calls on us to forget the past...and move ahead. But that's just it, I don't [want] to forget. I [can't] forget.
-
So you see my hesitation with the New Year's arrival.
-
Today(otherwise termed as the first day of the godforsaken New Year) was not what one would call a "good day" for me. I woke up late to loud noises coming from the other areas of my house. This immediately irritated me. I ate something for lunch I didn't want to eat. I played the piano heartlessly(something that should never be done). I wanted no one to talk to me...acknowledge me. I saw a sad movie and didn't cry. I sat, apathetic, thinking of my past and the subsequent storms as a result of it. I went home alone, per say. But I wasn't alone. My past was standing in my shadow, always by my side. I walked to the kitchen and [2008] was right there, wanting to eat too. I read the paper, and [2008] was sitting by my side, with its glasses on, reading along. [2008] followed me wherever I went.
-
I have many fears. One of them is of moving on. I suppose I see moving on as forgetting(which I don't want to do). But instead, I need to see it as embracing what happened and becoming better for it. I'll try that this year: 2009. Well see how it goes. But so far, I have wasted one day of 2009 already. But I do have 364 more days to go.
----------------
So with that, I say:
"Happy Embrace 2008 and Become Better for It!!!"
------------
I have given up on many things in my short life. One of those being setting New Years Resolutions. I never had the self-discipline to carry any of them out. So the hubbub of making resolutions seems rather pointless to me.
-
Everybody goes to a party on New Years Eve and brings in the New Year on a high of friends, family, and alcohol. I'll take any excuse to have a party. I thank the New Year for coming just so that I can party. But for nothing else.
-
So you want to know my real reason for hating the arrival of the New Year? Simply put: I have a problem [moving on]. Yeah, that's right. I have a problem moving on. And with the New Year, we are supposed to forget all of that and move forward with an eagerness and weightlessness, after having our burdens(extra baggage) lifted from our backs. But I have a problem letting that stuff go. What is "that stuff" you ask. I'll tell: mistakes, mostly, stupid stupid mistakes...regrets: the should haves, the could haves(in psych they call this "musterbating")...the good times: and the times that can never be again...the friends that leave...the friendships that fall apart...blah blah blah.
It almost seems as though I don't [want] to let the stuff go. Almost as if that is the only thing that defines me....and it does.
When the New Year arrives, it calls on us to forget the past...and move ahead. But that's just it, I don't [want] to forget. I [can't] forget.
-
So you see my hesitation with the New Year's arrival.
-
Today(otherwise termed as the first day of the godforsaken New Year) was not what one would call a "good day" for me. I woke up late to loud noises coming from the other areas of my house. This immediately irritated me. I ate something for lunch I didn't want to eat. I played the piano heartlessly(something that should never be done). I wanted no one to talk to me...acknowledge me. I saw a sad movie and didn't cry. I sat, apathetic, thinking of my past and the subsequent storms as a result of it. I went home alone, per say. But I wasn't alone. My past was standing in my shadow, always by my side. I walked to the kitchen and [2008] was right there, wanting to eat too. I read the paper, and [2008] was sitting by my side, with its glasses on, reading along. [2008] followed me wherever I went.
-
I have many fears. One of them is of moving on. I suppose I see moving on as forgetting(which I don't want to do). But instead, I need to see it as embracing what happened and becoming better for it. I'll try that this year: 2009. Well see how it goes. But so far, I have wasted one day of 2009 already. But I do have 364 more days to go.
----------------
So with that, I say:
"Happy Embrace 2008 and Become Better for It!!!"
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