My favorite friend I've never met was going to fly from AZ to here to see a bunch of SF Jazz shows.
He couldn't make it. (I still don't know why, dude.)
A couple of weeks ago, I got a mixed CD in the mail and in the case was a ticket to see a show Wednesday night: Peter Apfelbaum & the NY Hieroglyphics. He's awesome like that.
While I was listening, I had a weird epiphany of sorts. A total moment of clarity, an omen...I'm not sure what it was. In any case, suddenly, I thought...no, I perceived, almost ("thought" sounds too cogitative and conscious for what the experience was like), Obama will be president. I don't know where this came from; I sure as hell don't believe that it's in the bag by any means until it is, but...
Believe.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
I can't take the idiocy anymore.
No, really—I truly can't.
Why do I keep reading this shit???? I don't know, but they find their way in through whatever filters I thought I had.
And now, I'm having a hard time breathing. There are knots in the center of my ribcage and I'm hurting.
I bust my ass all week; then it's Friday evening and I feel like I have touched no one, made nothing in the world better, and I don't know what to do with myself except rent a movie like Down By Law to just sit down and be, appreciate the artfulness, listen to Tom Waits' voice, and contemplate the beauty in the human strife to "make it."
OOOOfuckingOOOFFFF.
Why do I keep reading this shit???? I don't know, but they find their way in through whatever filters I thought I had.
And now, I'm having a hard time breathing. There are knots in the center of my ribcage and I'm hurting.
I bust my ass all week; then it's Friday evening and I feel like I have touched no one, made nothing in the world better, and I don't know what to do with myself except rent a movie like Down By Law to just sit down and be, appreciate the artfulness, listen to Tom Waits' voice, and contemplate the beauty in the human strife to "make it."
OOOOfuckingOOOFFFF.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
k n o t t y
I've been feeling...hmm...knotty inside.
It's not quite anxiety.
It's not quite sadness.
Maybe it's old shit, nonbiodegradablebaggage being stirred up—it's that time of the year, with Yom Kippur reflections and all. Old stuff moves closer to the surface. Some, I purge; some yet unnamed detritus remains.
There are bits and pieces of doubts, anxieties, remorse floating in the Pacific (see the :: instant gratification:: post, below), and my body still remembers the vestiges of these experiences even if I cast them out logically, unabashedly.
Side-effects of these days of atonement include:
• sudden need for attention/
• ∴ disappointment in friends who don't return messages/
• inspiration stirring inside without a clear direction (this is not necessarily a negative side-effect)/
• impatience/
• impatience/
• impatience/
It's not quite anxiety.
It's not quite sadness.
Maybe it's old shit, nonbiodegradablebaggage being stirred up—it's that time of the year, with Yom Kippur reflections and all. Old stuff moves closer to the surface. Some, I purge; some yet unnamed detritus remains.
There are bits and pieces of doubts, anxieties, remorse floating in the Pacific (see the :: instant gratification:: post, below), and my body still remembers the vestiges of these experiences even if I cast them out logically, unabashedly.
Side-effects of these days of atonement include:
• sudden need for attention/
• ∴ disappointment in friends who don't return messages/
• inspiration stirring inside without a clear direction (this is not necessarily a negative side-effect)/
• impatience/
• impatience/
• impatience/
Monday, October 06, 2008
5 am
I wake up to my alarm.
The only thing that remains from whatever dream I was having is the sentence that echoes in my head right when I wake up. I don't know the context, the speaker, or the person addressed, just these words:
"Look, my family is like everyone's family—collective noun."
The only thing that remains from whatever dream I was having is the sentence that echoes in my head right when I wake up. I don't know the context, the speaker, or the person addressed, just these words:
"Look, my family is like everyone's family—collective noun."
Sunday, October 05, 2008
.:∴. d u s t ..:∴.
I should be grading, I could begin; there is, after all, no time other than the summer months when that little broken record is quiet.
"But habit is a great deadener" as Beckett says, so I try to find my true entry point.
I feel inspiration stirring inside me, and I know I just need to give it time and space. I need to quiet down the broken records of doing and just be sometimes to let the next thing I want to do (and do creatively and passionately) rise to the surface.
I feel dust stirring.
I realize even in my frustrations with all the hoopla surrounding Palin, I can't deny that I have been inspired. I've been inspired to read and question and wonder and write and express. This is all new to me, and I take it all for granted so quickly. No one else has questioned my passion, either; I only see momentary puzzlement on a face here and there when I mention something about not being able to vote if the topic ever comes up.
So I slow down and realize these are important times for me personally. A friend of mine and I have been thinking about writing a collaborative essay about current US politics: WWJBD :: What Would James Baldwin Do?© Maybe it is only appropriate that an expat living in the US write this essay.
I've been reading zines for the first time. (Is that weird? Do I care?)
Dust is getting stirred up and these particles need room, baby; they need r o o m .
After a long hiatus, I am finally going back to creating my wall/corner of inspiration in my apartment. Images, words, sketches, bits and pieces of imagined realities and the magical in the mundane, haiku moments both visual and verbal, the texture of leaves, of veiny forearms, typewriter keys, wood, sandpaper, rocks smoothed over by waves, yellow bordering on orange—like mangoes, orange bordering on yellow—like persimmons...
Dust is stirring, and these particles are just gonna have to get some room, baby; they will get some room.
"But habit is a great deadener" as Beckett says, so I try to find my true entry point.
I feel inspiration stirring inside me, and I know I just need to give it time and space. I need to quiet down the broken records of doing and just be sometimes to let the next thing I want to do (and do creatively and passionately) rise to the surface.
I feel dust stirring.
I realize even in my frustrations with all the hoopla surrounding Palin, I can't deny that I have been inspired. I've been inspired to read and question and wonder and write and express. This is all new to me, and I take it all for granted so quickly. No one else has questioned my passion, either; I only see momentary puzzlement on a face here and there when I mention something about not being able to vote if the topic ever comes up.
So I slow down and realize these are important times for me personally. A friend of mine and I have been thinking about writing a collaborative essay about current US politics: WWJBD :: What Would James Baldwin Do?© Maybe it is only appropriate that an expat living in the US write this essay.
I've been reading zines for the first time. (Is that weird? Do I care?)
Dust is getting stirred up and these particles need room, baby; they need r o o m .
After a long hiatus, I am finally going back to creating my wall/corner of inspiration in my apartment. Images, words, sketches, bits and pieces of imagined realities and the magical in the mundane, haiku moments both visual and verbal, the texture of leaves, of veiny forearms, typewriter keys, wood, sandpaper, rocks smoothed over by waves, yellow bordering on orange—like mangoes, orange bordering on yellow—like persimmons...
Dust is stirring, and these particles are just gonna have to get some room, baby; they will get some room.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
And another 17-year-old's...
Re: "i think he deserves more praise, and she less attention."
AGREED
It pisses me off so much that just because she had coherent sentences, despite only answering 20% of the questions, that everyone is saying that she did so well.
Biden did an amazing job, much better than Obama
and all everyone is talking about is that she didn't completely fuck it up
good job not answering the questions
sorry for swearing
A 17-year-old’s view
This is from the online conference of the girls' group I run...typos and all.
okay so heres my rap on all of this:
palin was FINE. she seemed smart, actually. she was...she was fine. i have no complaints. but heres the deal. BIDEN WAS FINE TOO. and NO ONE is talking about biden because hes ALWAYS been smart
its like, palin PLAYS DUMB for a few weeks and then turns out to be AVERAGE and everyone FREAKS OUT. how is that fair? how is that a good strategy? she wasnt a genius, okay? its like...biden has been using full sentences ALL ALONG so howcome in a debate where they were BOTH OK she seems like this big WINNER? BIDEN HAS BEEN DOING THIS ALL ALONG AND YET FOR PALIN IT IS A BIG IMPROVEMENT SO WHYYYYY WONT ANYONE ON TV SHUT UP ABOU HER?
im SO MAD AT MY TV
okay so heres my rap on all of this:
palin was FINE. she seemed smart, actually. she was...she was fine. i have no complaints. but heres the deal. BIDEN WAS FINE TOO. and NO ONE is talking about biden because hes ALWAYS been smart
its like, palin PLAYS DUMB for a few weeks and then turns out to be AVERAGE and everyone FREAKS OUT. how is that fair? how is that a good strategy? she wasnt a genius, okay? its like...biden has been using full sentences ALL ALONG so howcome in a debate where they were BOTH OK she seems like this big WINNER? BIDEN HAS BEEN DOING THIS ALL ALONG AND YET FOR PALIN IT IS A BIG IMPROVEMENT SO WHYYYYY WONT ANYONE ON TV SHUT UP ABOU HER?
im SO MAD AT MY TV
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