The fine line between genius and madness

Why?

2011-04-14T23:19:00.000-07:00

Why?

Shouldn't it be

that every human being

like me,

but not. Unique

probability wise

in the grand scheme of things

you know

when you take the whole

universe

into the equation.

Hendrix said it best.

Happiness.

Why not?

What reason can you give

that I

should be feeling

better

than any other.

I can't think of any.

But correct me if I'm wrong

and you should feel miserable.

Comic Con 2010

2010-06-13T21:34:00.001-07:00

Twas quite the weekend.

Comic Con 2010, my first comic book convention and while I couldn't with certainty say it will be my last, I have experienced there what I set out to experience.

I could go into detail on the racks upon racks of comics but I'm not a huge comic fan. I could go on about the celebrities there, the wrestlers and sci-fi stars and the porn actresses. But I'm not into that scene either.

Certainly, sitting in on a Q&A hosted by Sir Patric Stewart or Adam West was memorable and will stick with me for a while but this was not the main fun of the convention for myself. Nor the reason I went.

The thing about a comic book convention is that there are a hell of a lot of people who go to them. Not only are there a hell of a lot of people who go to them, the people who go to them share something very special among themselves. They are not afraid to embrace this culture, these icons, those items that they love.

Walking among people dressed as aliens, storm troopers, super heroes, etc. I had a great deal of respect for these people who to many would seem nothing but strange geeks with no lives. However it is very clear to me that these people understand something very important. Embracing what you love.

It is a trait which in some ways I share, yet in some ways I am still afraid to embrace. But I suppose that's life. As much as I admire those people I wonder what they are like outside of the convention, what they are like around "real" people. As real as anyone gets.

I suppose in a way, I try to live as real as I can without having to go to a convention to do so. In which case, have I already figured out the path?

An Underappreciation of the Grad School Experience

2009-11-11T06:45:00.001-08:00

Those of you who knew me during undergrad know that when graduation was approaching, I vehemently adopted the stance that "I was done with school" as soon as I got that sweet little piece of paper that stated I had put in more work than was legally required by law. I suppose a high school degree could also be stated as such, but I wasn't raised in a community with a significant drop out rate, so the whole "you're only legally obligated to stay in school until you're sixteen" was not my first thought when it came to what the norm was for society. But I digress.

Throughout the entirety of my college career I was convinced, as I feel many people are, that college was for nothing more than a diploma, which helped you get a job that required a college degree, and nothing more. This may be represented by the fact that I went to a school of 40,000 and got my degree in English, with a focus on creative writing (poetry at that.) Yet, I now find myself close to completing my first semester of Grad school, and on the fast track to becoming a high school teacher in a little more than a years time.

I don't think I've properly let that statement sink in, and I don't feel like I pay it proper weight. I am in Grad school, about to become a high school teacher. The reason I say I don't think I pay that statement proper weight, is because there honestly has never been any doubt in my mind that I could get to this point. Just the same as when I graduated from high school, there was no great sense of accomplishment, that was just what people did, they finished high school. Then, when I graduated from college, there was no great sense of accomplishment, because that's what people did, they graduated from college.

But looking at the people in my life, I realize that the statement "that's just what people do, they graduate from college" is completely wrong. I can't pull up exact statistics from my graduating high school class, but I know that a good portion of them did not go to college. Or have not graduated from college yet. And there's something there that has always puzzled me, because I didn't graduate from college because I was smarter than everyone else (in fact, I was on a degree path where creativity was what was important.) So what is it that sets me apart from a slew of others who either cannot, will not, or have not yet graduated from college despite me being already two years out?

Bullshit. I mean that completely seriously, bullshit is the only thing I can come up with, which allowed me to do what I did to complete my undergrad. To sit down and complete a bunch of assignments that I really didn't feel like doing, I did a lot of bull shitting. In papers, in class work, in reading discussions, I have made an academic career out of sitting down and bullshitting. So was it any surprise then that I really didn't want to continue my career in education after four years of bullshitting to get that slip of paper which sits, collecting dust, in my closet?

The fact is, my four years in college gave me no useful skills for obtaining a satisfactory job in the real world. There was no training on how to find a job which required a college degree, especially one related to my major. There were no classes on interacting with people who were neither student nor professor. No classes on setting goals in life and following through on them. My experiences in college, if anything, created an isolated world where poets sat around drinking coffee, smoking pot, and discussing ideas for their next "world changing poem." For the record, I still have not written any world changing poems, and most of the ideas from those sessions of discussion were either terrible, or forgotten.

Is it any surprise that after only a year out of college I realized the only thing I'm qualified to do is go back to college?

Which leads me to my present situation. Going to grad school to obtain a Masters in Education at a small, private university, so that I can go and teach high schoolers. Despite the fact that I am in a somewhat exclusive degree path, at a somewhat exclusive school, and obtaining an education which goes above and beyond what many people out there will ever achieve, despite all this, I still am not amazed by my accomplishment. There was no epic struggle to get here, I didn't pour hours into studying to pass tests in order to get into this program, it was more just "why don't you go get certified to teach? Oh, take a test and then apply? Oh, I got accepted? Oh, you mean the difference between certification and a masters is two classes?"

Why not get my masters? Besides the fact that by the end of this experience I'll be 30,000 dollars in debt but at least qualified to obtain a real career, why not simply get another slip of paper which says I'm slightly more qualified than people who set out to be teachers and have no other desire but to be one? That's a question I'm still not sure how to answer. The fact that I didn't have to try to get this masters makes me wonder why it's such a big deal, and the fact that I'm not having to try very hard in my graduate level classes makes me wonder if this is really higher education. Is it really that easy and the people around me just aren't that good at bullshitting, or is it really that difficult and I just am that good at bullshitting?

Or is there something more to it. Somewhere in all my avoidance of work did I get really good at learning? In my years of pre-college education, when I was reading for my own benefit but avoiding assignments, was I learning? In my undergrad, when I was researching for poems instead of for exams, was I learning something? In a circle of friends where conversation is a sport and you always have to be ready to insert a witty observation or a scathing insult in jest, was I learning?

The more I try to find some sort of conclusion to all these questions and examinations of the education system, the more I find it opening into more and more questions. Which makes me wonder if perhaps that's what I should be doing. Is beginning to examine just what it is I'm learning in school.

Today, There is a sadness in my eyes

2009-03-17T18:08:00.000-07:00

It is the sorrow
For lack of sorrow,
Like the end of a
False spring day,
Never real to begin with.

No,
It is the sorrow
For lack of
Winter
As false spring days
become real spring days
And winter
never comes.

Where did my season go?

I must have lost it
In the move.

But,
It is the same no matter where you go.
The winters are cold
And the summers
Hot
Unless you're just visiting.
And I am
Here and
Growing cold
As false spring days end.

(needs a better ending)

One last cup before daybreak (second draft)

2009-03-11T07:12:00.000-07:00

I am blue as this cigarette smoke
Coiling around the bluegreen
Dream of a common language.
Smooth Marlboro Coral Vipers
Serenade a funeral dirge to my lungs
As I exhale the blue venom
Bite after bite.

These eyes of mine
Are glazed over from the poisons
I've injected into my veins:
Sixteen cups of caffeine, twenty two sticks of nicotine
fifty six packets of sugar, thirty two creamers,
Twenty six hours and counting of no sleep
And one book of poetry.

Is there any me left?
My body has turned to ash,
Discarded in a smoke stained glass urn,
And my soul is lost to the synthetic bands
Which stain the tan beckoning tail
Of that final cup,
That final breath.

Last words hit the paper like clouds
Masking the rising sun over Lake Huron,
Red touching yellow as the black fades,
And the Emphysemic gasps of a dying wolf
Splayed from the Serpents bite,
Turn to one final written out howl
Like the smoke
Rising from an extinguished
Cigarette
Dissipating into a new day.

False spring days (first draft)

2009-03-08T13:44:00.001-07:00

Today,
There is a sadness in my eyes
Though I do not know why.

(Do you still love me?)

It hangs like false spring days,
As winter approaches its end;
The joke of salvation
Where none is needed

(Did you ever love me?)

Tomorrow the cold returns,
A cold still warmer than home,
Or what once was home
Before...

(Do I love you?)

It is the same no matter where you go,
The winters are cold
And the summers
Hot
Unless
You are just visiting
And then
It's all just right.

(Did I ever love you?)

Maybe that is the answer,
and home is not where the heart is,
It is where the heart is not,
And only then can we be satisfied.

"Fuck me like a lustrous, lingering Palindrome" Hannah Miet

2009-02-28T19:23:00.000-08:00

I do not know
How to fuck one like
A lustrous
Lingering
Palindrome.

I can only imagine,
it would have to be like
The last note of a sonata,
Held with a vibrato that is slowly
Fading
into an emptiness that reverberates
Back
To the beginning.

No,
It must
Be like the end of the universe
Reversing direction and condensing,
All existence returning
To singularity
And then
BANG!

No, that's not it either.

It must be like
Oroborus,
Devouring the tail,
Gagging
until
Retch!
And it must begin
Again.

Stop,
This is
All wrong.

It must be like
Fucking
a lustrous,
lingering
palindrome,
And I should stop
Poeticizing your words and
Fuck!

That's not it either.

It's only so often you get to ride with dead poets.

2009-02-26T13:15:00.000-08:00

"Man this city is dead. We need to find some women. Were are all the women in this city?"

I don't have an answer for him. Bukowski that is, Charles Bukowski, AKA Chinaski, AKA Hank, AKA one of the greatest contemporary poets of our time. I don't even know how I wound up riding in his car, through this city that's barely there as we fly by the shadows of buildings at incomprehensible speeds. I feel like I've just come out of a drunken blackout. One minute everything was normal, and the next I'm being driven by a mad man, feeling like a mad man, incapable of deciphering my own reality.

"Here's a life lesson for you. The only thing a man needs in life are a good pair of legs, good beer, and good smokes. Also, never trust anyone who gives you advice on what you need in life."

We round a corner and I cling to the dash like I'll fly out the window into the empty night if I let go. This gives me a chance to stare at the man who's poetry and prose filled half a semester worth of sleepless nights in 24 hour diners. I don't see anything but the blurred shape of a man. Just a lump of flesh and hair. I can only see him when I'm not looking at him.

"Here's another one. Seize every moment by the horns and lead that bull wherever you want it to go. The matadors have it all wrong, letting the bull charge and do its futile dance. You make the bull dance and claim ownership of it. Just make sure you don't step in bull shit when you're walking it around."

He rolls down his window and lights a cigar. I follow suit with a cigarette, one hand still clutching the dash, somehow managing to light the end and get a good cherry burning. A marvel of the dance, I think.

"Hey Bukowski, where the hell are we going?"

He yanks the wheel and we cut across four lanes of traffic, before we're speeding in the opposite direction we were just headed. It's not like it matters, the buildings are all dark and nameless, the street signs written in a language I can't read. Even if I could we're going too fast to pick out more than a blurred letter. It's strange, through it all I can hear car horns but don't see a single pair of headlights.

"Haven't you been paying attention. For fucks sake, you new poets have no brains, no class. The typer and a case of cheap wine, that's all a man needs."

He rolls his window down to its maximum, and then sticks his head out the opening, jerking the wheel with the effort, weaving in and out of the ill defined lanes. His cigar begins burning a hole in his shirt where he's haphazardly set it.

"I am the great genius of the 20th century! Where are the Hemingways? The Lorcas? Where are the mad men and women to keep me company so I don't have to listen to this half witted fool? And never take advice on how to live your life from anyone!

Hy head feels light and I close my eyes, feeling the undulations of tires over asphalt. There are no potholes.

"Bukwoski, you're full of-"

Chinaski slams on the brakes and I feel him jerk the wheel hard enough that his elbow juts out and strikes my own, causing me to cast my cigarette out the open window. With my eyes closed I see it skip across the pavement, bouncing around until it finally rests like a super giant star, slowly burning out its fuel until it extinguishes and lays there in the endless black abyss, visible only if you know where to look and what to look for.

The car's moving sideways at such speed I know we're going to crash into something. Miraculously, I feel the tires grab hold of the pavement, and we lurch forward again, in whatever direction Bukwoski has it in his mind we should go.

"Into the horizon, into the rising sun is were we're going. We'll drive until we reach the sea, and then we'll become pearls on the ocean floor, waiting for someone to pry us from the metal clam shell."

I open my eyes and its true. We're headed towards a blazing sun rise, the pinks and oranges engulfing the car, the world, everything as we start moving faster and faster, that blazing orb growing larger and darkening, filling the horizon with its deep red light. All around us, the world is stretching into one long column of light, until those hues are all that I can see.

"The only thing a man needs is, well fuck, a man doesn't need anything but himself. 'Cause no one has the answers and never trust anyone who says they do, especially if they're trying to give you advice on how to live your life."

I'm being engulfed in the flames of the horizon, as Bukowksi begins to glow a brilliant shade of white, and I can make out the mad glee on his face as the car starts climbing upwards. We keep going higher as we keep going faster, and Bukowski starts laughing and I find myself laughing too, the volume growing until it's nothing but a hideous buzzing that keeps getting louder until I feel the ground give way and we're flying towards the sun, not knowing if we're going to keep going up or eventually curve back towards the earth.

And Bukwoski yells "Cicada!"

Visions

2009-02-04T06:07:00.000-08:00

I breath out Jellyfish
And group
er eels,

Passing wights drifting
In a sea pushed by corner fire current
s.

The eel's mouth stretch
es wide, Banshee scream
s, shred the Jellyfish
Into ectoplasmic vapor
s.

These ghost
s of the unchart
ed ocean haunt me;
The jellyfish piece
s/vapor
s,
Will o' the wisp
s as the light Catch
es translucent gel/
As their bioluminescence Flash
es green.

And the eel's mouth stretch
es wide
er
And poltergeist breath
Scatter
s these oceanic Shade
s.

And the eel's mouth strech
es wide
er
And turn
s to devour me,
as I drift among hazy current
s, wait
ing for the mouth to close.

Cannibal Shrimp Cakes Off The Coast Of Madagascar.

2009-02-03T17:43:00.000-08:00

They're the cannibal shrimpcakes
And they live off the coast of madagascar
With their cannibal families
They never wander very far.

There's only two tribes there,
The green's and the blue's
And they're constantly fighting
For lack of anything better to do

Cause life ain't easy when there's nothing round to eat
You just eat your second cousin with the really big feet
Then you have another baby, then you fuck and repeat
When you're a cannibal shrimpcake your life is sheet.

Schizophrenia

2009-02-01T21:18:00.000-08:00

This is

A self fulfilling

Prophecy

Funny, she called me

A prophet once;

The Chaos White

Butter

Fly.

(But that is another

Poem/time /reality/universe)

And why shouldn’t I know

The future?

I know my past!

I know the face of insanity from a rabid father

Frothed at the mouth from liquor

From insecurity

From fear

Clutching a knife to my throat as if a tomorrow may come

That I, his son, would not be his;

“I’ll kill anyone who tries to take my son from me!”

Is it a surprise I fear the man?

When I

Have taken myself from him?

I know a body of insanity!

The society that cannot stand still,

That shifts from year to year and says one year

“I love you”

And the next

“You’re fat.”

The society that breeds evil,

Corruption,

Adultery, Incest, Racism, Murder,

Poetry, Music, Paintings, Murals,

Everything and everything.

Is it a surprise I fear my fellow man?

When I

Am separate yet a part

Of him?

I know the science of insanity!

The true logic

Of this condition.

It’s in the brain, it’s in the subconscious, it’s in

Spirt

Ality

It’s from a gene! It’s from trauma as a child! It’s from

Man.

Is it any surprise I fear

Myself?
When I believe in Nature,

Nurture,

And a soul?

I know the voice of insanity!

It is in my own head,

The voice of Dedric,

The wolf I am/became.

The voice of David

The man I am/became.

The voice of logic

Versus the voice of reason

Versus the voice of belief

Versus the voice of experience

Versus, versus, versus

Me.

Is it any surprise I fear

Frivolous things?
When I

Cannot admit

I am sane.

My first criticism : )

2009-01-27T11:02:00.000-08:00

"this is beyond stupid. typical person who already had decided to hate the books before reading them, so you feel the need to mock them."

So that was a comment someone left on my other blog (my blogger blog that is) about my dramatic retelling of twilight. In typical me fashion, I'm going to deconstruct it now.

Let us notice first that said person has done so anonymously. This is characteristic of the internet, in that people feel that anonymity gives them the right to say, basically whatever they want. It can be argued that I too am using this privilege in my criticisms of Stephanie Meyers writing, but I would like to state of the record that if I ever get the chance to talk to Mrs. Meyers, I will gladly tell her, to her face, how terrible I think her books are, as well as her writing style as a whole.

Secondly let us analyze the form of this piece. The lack of capitals is truly interesting, as they make me feel this person is too lazy to reach over and hit the shift key. But that could be harsh of me. Perhaps this person was born with a rare defect and they do not have pinkies. Or perhaps they never learned what a capital letter is.

Now, an interesting part of this criticism, is that it leaves out all of the defenses that one would normally see in a random internet comment. There is no justification for the quality of the books that I argue, the poster simply immediately goes for the insults.

"this is just stupid." Since I have written this, clearly it also implies that I too am stupid. As well the poster labels me as "typical" which must mean the user views anyone who does not find these books to be good, to be stupid as well (which, considering one of my friends commented that she enjoyed it, is an insult to her as well.)

Let us go into further analysis of the second line shall we?

"typical person who already had decided to hate the books before reading them, so you feel the need to mock them." Notice that it doesn't make much sense. For one I did read them, so I decided to hate them AFTER I read them. Secondly, I don't feel the need to mock them because I decided to hate them before I read the books, I feel the need to mock them because after I read them, I could not find anything of quality anywhere within the pages. Well, the paper was of good quality, and the font was large and legible. Also the soft covers had a particularly good feel to them, weight and strength wise.

Also notice that part one does not correlate to part two of that sentence. I could feel the need to mock them without hating them. Comedians mock things they love all the time. I could also hate the books without mocking them. Another thing that happens quite often.

No, I don't make much sense of that sentence at all, and considering the lack of capitals, I do not take it seriously. But let this be a lesson (I'm sure no one will take) in our future endeavors. If you seek to insult me, at least use capitalization and proper sentence structure shall we?

New Moon: A dramatic interpretation.

2009-01-27T10:48:00.000-08:00

My name iss Bella and it's my birthday and I'm pissed because I'm growing older and Edward won't make me a vampire. But then the cold ones throw a party for me and I'm happy because it's amazing! But in my typical clutzy way I cut myself and Jasper tries to eat me. In the ensuing chaos I nearly die when I fall on a table which ruins everything. Then Edwards leaves me!

No, why Edward? Why have you left me when I love you so? Life isn't worth living anymore. Oh woe is me, I am but a shell, an empty person not worthy of happiness.

The only thing left to do is do reckless things that put me in danger. But wait, whenever I am in danger, Edward talks to me in my mind! In that case I will do more reckless things!

Hey, I know, I'll learn to ride a motorcycle, since coincidentally there are two junkers that someone is just happening to throw away. Who do I know that can fix mechanical things.

Jacob! I will lead him on again, which makes me feel bad, but I need to risk death to hear my beloved again. What's this? Jacob makes me happy? What a strange sensation! It's almost as if I can try to have some semblance of a normal life, though my heart will always belong to Edward.

Yay! Motorcycles are done. Let's try them out! Oh no! What a surprise, I'm a klutz and nearly kill myself.

Jacob is becoming distant? What's going on? Why does everyone I love leave me?!

Jacob is a Werewolf? What a twist! It's not like I could have begun to fathom there were werewolves from that one story he told me last year about his peoples beliefs. But wait, that's exactly how I deduced he was werewolf. He hasn't been ignoring me, he's just been afraid I would hate him when I found out the truth.

Oh yeah, and that one chick Victoria has come back to kill me, but that's only mentioned in a couple lines because *gasp* teh boy drama!

Now that Jacob knows I accept him as a werewolf we're closer than ever. So close in fact, that he's going to violate his Alphas orders and bring me to see the pack to help them understand vampires.

Oh noes, one of his pack members has an anger problem and gets pissed off that Jacob has violated his Alpha's orders and basically told me the truth about his condition. Now he's pissed and wants to attack me. But wait, Jacob is special and is, of course, almost the strongest werewolf ever. He shifts and saves me, while I escape to go meet the Pack Alpha's girlfriend.

Poor Emily, she was horribly disfigured by Sam, when he shifted and attacked her. But they're so in love it doesn't matter to either of them. Yay love!

Speaking of love, I think I may love Jacob. Not like how I love Edward, but maybe, just maybe I can have somewhat of a normal life with him, since I'll never see Edward again.

Oh Edward, my love, I cannot live without hearing your voice. I know, I'll go cliff diving, since Jacob is too busy hunting Victoria to do anything with me.

Oh Edward, I completely forgot about the water at the bottom of the cliff, which is strong and full of currents (who knew?) I will drown and be with you forever!

Somehow I am saved by Jacob! Yay (or no?)

Sigh, back home to recuperate from my near death experience. But what's this? Alice is back!

Yay Alice? But now Jacob is furious because vampires and Werewolves are mortal enemies, and no matter who you were before becoming a werewolf, once you become a werewolf you become little more than a typical quick to anger male!

Edward calls and thinks I'm dead? And he's going to go to Italy to try to convince the most powerful Vampires living to kill him? What can we do Alice? We have to save him!

Jacob, you're pissed that I like vampires? Well, despite our close friendship over the past several months I don't care! I'm going to save Edward, the one I love for all eternity!

Alice sees the future. Have I ever told you that? Well she does, and she sees what Edward is doing. The vampires won't kill him because his ability to read minds from a distance is too valuable. So he will expose them, in their own city, on what happens to be a celebration for when their patron saint rid the city of vampires (Why is my life so ironically bent for maximum effect? It's like God has crafted the universe simply to mess with me!)

We gotta hurry to save Edward! I don't care that we have to steal a ridiculously fast car, bribe a state official, and then I have to push myself through a packed Italian square, it's all for him! Anything for him!

Edward, the clock is striking, don't step into that crowded square into the sunlight which doesn't kill you but just makes you look all glittery, which for some reason could never be explained to humans as some sort of make up effect.

I'll never make it! But wait, I made it! Just in time!

Oh noes...the vampires know that I know about vampires. Now we have to go meet with them...

They want Edward and Alice to join them! But luckily they're such good friends with Carlisle they won't kill them if they don't join them. Because Elder Vampires are known not only for their infinite patience, but also for not forcing others to join them or be destroyed (hey, who said vampires weren't rational creatures?)

But they're going to kill me for what I know! But Alice knows something too! I'm going to be turned into a vampire! (She may have been fallible before, but in this knowledge she is Infallible!) Just not now...Dun dun dun!

The day is saved and Edward has returned to me! But he's just going to leave me again, because I'm not special in any way. Except for knowing about Vampires. And Werewolves. And for some reason I'm immune to vampire powers. Except for Alice's. And Jasper's. But everyone else I'm immune to!

No, logic has no place here! Edward will leave me and I will be le sad again! Except...except he loves me! Oh foolish me, I've only just realized this now! He loves me! But i want to be a vampire. Well if Edward won't I'll let Alice do it. Or Carlisle. But Edward says he'll do it! If I marry him. Marriage? I may love him, and I may want to be turned into a vampire to spend all eternity with him, but marry him? I can't marry him! Think about what marriage means! Till death do us part! That's just too much of a commitment for someone who's only eighteen. Think of what my mother would think! I don't care what she thinks about me becoming a vampire, but about marriage she is the only thing that matters to me.

Now I'm grounded though, for running away to Italy for three days to save Edward. The nerve! And Jacob comes to see me! But only to get me grounded (oh yeah, the motorcycles. I'd almost forgotten about those, I hadn't seen them in almost three...maybe four hundred pages.) Edward and Jacob confront one another (dun dun dun) and Jacob reminds Edward of the treaty. Which is if the Cullens BITE anyone. *Gasp* curse the poor wording of treaties. And for once, the Natives are the ones exploiting a treaty rather than the white man (And let's not forgot that Edward is as white as they come. Ooh his luscious marble skin, I lurbs him.)

Whoops, got lost on a tangent. Jacob is leaving me. Why! Just because werewolves are the mortal enemies of vampires, and he hates vampires for the fact that they are responsible for making him a werewolf, not to mention he's in love with me but I'm in love with Edward. That's no reason to hate me!

Well I promise that I will make everything work. I will love Edward, be turned into a vampire which Jacob hates, but still somehow be friends with Jacob. And on top of all that...I have to worry about College.

Man, the life of a teenager who's in love with a vampire, friends with a werewolf, and finishing up her senior year of high school. Can you say drama?

Thank you, thank you.

Twilight: A dramatic Retelling, part two.

2009-01-22T13:31:00.000-08:00

Jacob tells me silly stories about werewolves and vampires. But wait...something about the legends rings true.

That's what Edward is! A vampire! What do I do now?

I'll tell him. His being a vampire changes nothing, and won't mean anything for at least a while.

Edward doesn't hate me for knowing? In fact he's confused. And the only reason he avoided me when we first met is because my blood smelled so desirable to him. Now we can start dating, even though I'm a klutzy, plane jane human.

And now I get to meet Edwards family, who are all vampires, and each of whom has their soul mate, except for poor Edward who has been lonely and depressed for a hundred years until he met ME! And then I get invited to watch them play baseball, but they can only play during a thunderstorm for some reason.

Edward, perfect edward, Glorious Edward, carries me to the basesball game, but he runs so fast I nearly faint. Then he kisses me and I DO faint. What a glorious specimen of manliness, except that he's a vampire. But I love him anyway.

Vampire baseball is fascinating. They run so fast that one would think they'd break the sound barrier (but they don't.) But then *gasp* vampires!

Not good vampires like the cullens who don't drink human blood, but bad vampires who eat people. And one of them latches on to my sweet smelling blood and...he'll stop at nothing to eat me?

What, you thought there'd be no plot to my story? It only took 350 pages to get there.

The cullens take me to Arizona to escape from the vampire who wants my blood. But he kidnaps my mother! I have to save her, even though I could never take on a vampire and live. But that doesn't matter, I'll save my mother!

Oh no! I've been tricked, he didn't have my mother at all! I have sacrificed myself in vain. Here comes the end, good bye cruel world. Ah, to be eaten by a vampire when I have only just found my true love.

*blackness*

What? I'm alive? Edward sucked the vampire poison from me so I wouldn't change? My hero! Oh I love you Edward, my protector, my one and only, the sole reason I live. Make me a vampire! I don't care that we've only known each other for weeks, I am yours and yours alone! I want to be with you for all eternity!

Twilight: A dramatic reading part one.

2009-01-17T12:02:00.000-08:00

This may be a severely masochistic endeavor, but I've taken to reading the Twilight series to figure out what all the hub bub is about.

So after finishing the first book, I have donned the character of Bella, in order to give an interpretation of the events.

I give you: Twilight.

My name is Bella, and despite living in Arizona all my life I'm deathly pale and depressed. For some reason which I won't reveal, I've decided to move in with my Dad, Charlie, the sheriff of a small town called forks, in the state of Washington, and Forks happens to be the most overcast place in the world.

I hate rain, and snow, but I'm in it for the long haul, and I'm going to try to make the best of things.

My dad immediately gifts me a truck which is near fifty years old, but it drives and it is neigh indestructible, which is important because I am the klutziest person alive. Though I can clearly be trusted to drive a car without killing myself. I'm only klutzy in ridiculous and life threatening ways.

So school begins. I immediately begin making friends despite my dreary appearance, attitude, and manners, particularly amongst the boys who all want to love me. But I'm not looking for love. Strangest of all though is this kid Edward, who is pale and seems to absolutely hate me.

Why would someone hate me who I've never met? I do not know. It doesn't matter though because he disappears right after the first day. Yay! Wait...no. I can't stop thinking about him. Where is he? What is he doing? Never mind everyone else I've met, I can't get him out of my head? I dream of him every night. What is going on?

Then he comes back and...starts being nice to me? What's with this kid? Whatever, I'll play along.

It's snowing! I hate snow. Even though I've never seen it, I feel no amazement at all in seeing it for the first time. I just hate it! Driving sucks in snow but I make it fine to school until...

Oh no! He's out of control! He's going to slam right into me! Wait...Edward saves me? Not only by pushing me out of the way, but then by somehow stopping the second car that's about to slam into me? What's going on? What's with this kid?

Shopping trip with the girlfriends for the upcoming dance that I won't attend despite every guy in school asking me. Well, shopping's done I'm going to go find a bookstore. No bookstore, better join the gals for dinner. Wait a second...where the hell am I? Oh no, a gang of males who want to rape me! How do I find myself in these situations. They're coming closer...and closer...and!

Edward saves me? But how did he find me? Oh well, he's taking me to dinner now!

We eat. We talk. What's with this kid?

A day at the beach with friends. Jacob Black! I used to be friends with this kid. He knows something about Edward...I will totally lead him on to get information from him.

Random thoughts

2008-12-20T21:27:00.001-08:00

I think
If I were to go
Into a store
And the person behind the counter
Were wearing a haz-mat suit...

...I would have to buy
Something,
Anything,
Simply because
That would make my day
Infinitely more interesting.

Which should be
Everyone's goal
Everyday.

Winter Butterfly. Apparently empty space is a bad thing. So pretend the stars are space.

2008-12-05T19:50:00.000-08:00

Flit;
She is there;
The chaos white
Butter
******Fly
Pettling my thoughts
With her snowflake wings,
Swit swit swit swit swit
Across a snow covered landscape.

This winter
I promised myself
Not to shiver at crystalline
Insects
Caressing the gooseflesh
Along
M
*y
a
*r
m
*s,

And there you were.
Perched on the rigid hairs
Of my ear,
Your proboscis
Suckling at the nectar
Of my libido.

Winter Butter
*************Fly
I love you
For your existence;
Like the gleam
Of sunlight
Across a new winter
Across a new winter.

Winter butter
*************Fly
Will you be
There
**********When---

Flit;
She is
Gone.

Dog days

2008-12-02T11:03:00.001-08:00

The world is ending

Slow as a dog dying

From old age.

See, their eyes are blood red

With the suppressed fury of the great schism

With drug addictions to mask the great dissatisfaction

With allergies to anything that disagrees with the great norm

With pesitlence

With famine

With drought

As the wallstreet suits

Leap from buildings

And the war mothers send corpses to fight

Ideas

And the regulars drink for health

And for love

And for anything different

Than the lives they're escaping from

And a man leaves a bar

To beat his wife

Because he loves her

Because booze stained saw dust air clogs his veins

Because the world is against him and his dreams

Rot in the desert sun

And he lays there

With his purple bloated tongue sticking from the side of his mouth

With the flys crawling across sugar glazed eyes

And the vultures circle with their drunken flight patterns

Waiting

For the world to end.

It's the most wonderful time of the year.

2008-11-21T02:09:00.001-08:00

And no I don't mean Christmas. This whole media frenzy over the holidays is pissing me the fuck off. I get it. There's only one more month until the shopping season is over. Wow. Do I really need Jolly ole saint nick pounded into my head over and over and over and fucking over until I bleed candy cane stripes and forget that once upon a time this holiday stood for something besides which company can make the most money.

I'm fucking serious. I don't care if Christmas starts after Thanksgiving. I'm cool with that. I'm used to holidays lasting a month now. Thanksgiving does. Valentines day does. Many holidays last longer than they actually should.

But I am sick and tired of Christmas lasting months. It's bullshit.

But back to my point, now that I wasted enough time to get there.

It's five and it's my hour. The hour when everything makes sense. When it could all end and I wouldn't care at the least because I'm just one with it all.

When every waking moment becomes a battle. When you get to enjoy the full hour but know that six and seven are going to be even worse. Until eight rolls around and you breach the barrier and get your second wind.

It's all so unique. Hard to describe. This is the time that I am most comfortable.

And I'm off to enjoy it the best way. Laying back, and letting the mind wander.

When spirals converse.

2008-11-04T00:39:00.001-08:00

When does a spiral become a circle?

When it tires of feeling alone.

Why feel alone?

I don't know what I'm talking about. I'm stuck in this body and I can't get out.

You know what you're talking about, just not the words. You are the spiral contained, your body the point it begins. But only you can find the way out.

Trace back to the beginning and find the point that lies beyond, where the heart is more than an organ and draws another spiral to entwine into one.

Beautiful. Quit smoking. The world needs you.

I've made a promise to quit when I become the spiral mutually drawn to another.

When the world becomes a singularity that needs me.

But tonight we can both be lonely spirals, whirling into infinity.

Just remember to never be afraid to chase the right spiral, even if you're afraid you'll never reach it. If you don't catch it, you may lose it as it spirals further away.

Because the only danger to a spiral is time.

Help expand your mind

2008-10-29T13:16:00.001-07:00

Just a little mix I threw together after stealing the idea from JD.

1. Supermassive Black Hole-Muse

2. Lateralus-Tool

3. Comfortably Numb-Pink Floyd

4. We're All Mad Here-Tom Waits

5. Right Where It Belongs-Nine Inch Nails

A post about nothing to fill the time.

2008-10-28T13:56:00.000-07:00

Schpoof!

I figure this blog deserves a little bit of the ole Stream of consciousness treatment. I'm bored at work, having written three articles today and created three rought drafts of a logo for the biz. I suppose when you put it that way I've been pretty busy.

What is it about the mind that makes it our own worst enemy. It's the times like this where I don't envy those who don't find themselves thinking all the time.

The problem? Am I finding problems where none exist, or ignoring problems that should be obvious to me?

Confusing perhaps or clearer than day?

In short, this move has gotten to me, because I've lost one of the things I'd come to depend on. The ability to talk over problems with rational people outside of my own head. Not that my head isn't rational, it's just rational in it's one mindset. But other mindsets are important for understanding. It lets me know if I'm not being too crazy.

Blah I say.

I've gotten stuck in a Muse/Tool/Nine Inch Nails loop for the past few weeks. Which may be part of the problem. You get one band singing about relationships and, one band singing about the universe, and one band singing about both. Or are they all singing about it all.

A conundrum.

I'm becoming interested in this spoken word business.

A bit of non poetics

2008-10-21T06:07:00.000-07:00

I came to work early today to meet with my Boss's marketing advisor, and as I was reading over the MSNBC headlines that scroll across the right side of my screen, one caught my eye, and I found it funny that it caught my eye. It wasn't the content of the article, or even the headline, it was one word.

Bush.

For the past eight years I have hated that man. With a passion that is shared (rightfully so) by many people across this land. Yet, as the election has neared and the politics between McCain and Obama have heated up, I find myself guilty of something I know I shouldn't have allowed myself to do.

I'd forgotten.

Not forgotten what the man had did. I hope I could never forget what he's done. And not forgotten that I hate him, again I don't think I could. But for the past month, he hasn't been the forefront of my rage.

Which is perhaps the brilliance of the Republican Party of choosing Sarah Palin as their VP pick. She's someone who I somehow hate more than George Bush. Not because she's done more wrong than him, not because she's any less stupid than he is, not for any reason except that she's right there talking about it.

I had an interesting talk with a guy at the Midtown Festival that I worked about three weeks ago, and he made an interesting point. Bush was a fantastic liar. And I had to agree. He was a fantastic liar.

And that's the thing about Palin. She's not a fantastic liar. In fact, she's not even trying. Which is what I think is so scary about her.

It didn't matter that Bush was a bible thumping conservative, he could at least lie about it. It didn't matter that he was a war pushing mad man, he could lie about it. It didn't matter that he could barely string a coherent sentance together, you get the picture.

The fact that the second most powerful person in the world could be someone who thinks Dinosaurs walked the earth with modern humans, that nature should be cast aside for the sake of oil drilling, that living adjacent to a foreign country means you have foreign policy experience (which I guess means Bush had a lot too, I mean he lived right next to Mexico.) These things scare me in a way that George Bush didn't scare me because he lied about it. And I'm used to the best liar taking the seat of president, or any other political office for that matter. Who doesn't know a dozen jokes about how politicians lie cheat and steal?

But the fact is that she's crazy enough to not lie about those things, and what terrifies me most is there are people who still support her through it all. Because if she wins, it means that there are more people out there who think that the world is only 6000 years old than who think science actually has something to tell us about the world. That there are more people out there who think conservation is just a fancy way of saying tree hugging hippies. That there are more people out there who think that someone worse than George Bush should be leading this country in some way, and possibly in all ways.

And that is a terrifying thought. Terrifying enough that ever since learning the name Sarah Palin, I've almost forgotten who George Bush even is.

Random

2008-10-20T12:00:00.001-07:00

Crystal waters and a pumpkin pie

I don't know why there's a hole in the sky

Man jumped up and fell right through

Don't really know what he's to do

Stared at the bobcat and wondered how

He was gonna get through the pickle now

Couldn't find a seed so he left for the moon

Should arrive there right about noon

Crystal waters and a pumpkin sky

I don't know but he'll surely die

Trying to squeeze through a tear drop purse

I don't think it could get much worse

Then something better than an English Muffin

Poofed in existence and beat the stuffing

Threw a tantrum through the noodle's ring

Didn't even know Macaroni could sing

Oh Crystal waters and a Pumpkin lie

I don't know but the Jester's fry

Sinkadilly willy nilly frilly little go

End this song with the word Dingo

Past the Event Horizon

2008-10-15T13:31:00.001-07:00

As with any song, it's hard to hear without the music.

This is part two of a song I'm working on (the first part aptly named Slipping through to the other side) The basic premise of the two songs is this. The first is just "I'm slipping through to the other side" repeated over and over, stretched long at first, and shortening over the song until it becomes on syllable (still working on that) simulating passing through the event horizon of a black hole (the place where nothing can escape)

For this second part, everything in parentheses is whispered beneath the lyrics.

No one ever told me it could come to this (I’ve slipped through, through to the other side)

A place without god, an endless abyss (I've slipped through, through to the other side)

Stretched out past the point of infinity (I’ve slipped through, through to the other side)

Burning in hell, relishing in tranquility (I’ve slipped through, through to the other side)

Past the event horizon (I’ve slipped through, through to the other side)

Consumed by this atrophy (I’ve slipped through, through to the other side)

Entrenched in this chaotic anarchy (I’ve slipped through, through to the other side) No one left to tell me what's happening (I’ve slipped through, through to the other side)

Nothing left to remind me of anything (I’ve slipped through, through to the other side)

Past the event horizon! (I’ve slipped through, through to the other side)

Past the event horizon (I’ve slipped through, through to the other side)

Past the event horizon!

Past the event horizon, I’ve come past the event horizon to the

Other side of reality, can anyone see what’s happening to me

How does one escape a place where even light dare not go

This fulfilling emptiness, consumes my flesh, consumes my soul

I’ve slipped past the walls of sanity, in paradox, I am one with it all!

(I’ve slipped through, through to the other side, I’ve slipped through, through to the other side I’ve slipped through, through to the other side, I’ve slipped through, through to the other side)

I’ve slipped through!

Through to the other side (past the event horizon I’ve slipped)

I’ve slipped through!

Through to the other side (past the event horizon I’ve slipped)

Can’t tell anymore if I’m dead or alive

I’ve slipped through, through to the other side

Can’t tell anymore if I’m dead or alive

I’ve slipped through, through to the other side

The other side

(I am god here, I am god here, I am god here, I am god here, I am god here, I am god here, I am god here, I am)

Technicalities

2008-10-14T13:55:00.000-07:00

Everything you read here is written by me unless otherwise stated. Everything written by me is not to be reproduced without my consent, and not to be used for profit of any kind unless consulted with me first.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License.

A day at the lake

2008-10-14T11:18:00.000-07:00

He skips

Stones

With the grace

Of an eight year old

Because he is

An eight year old

(eight

and three quarters

If you ask him)

And with each

Thunk, splash, kerplunk

I hope

Some magic

Will carry his throws

Back across surface ripple remnants

Of failure.

Yet

He smile

And searches

For that next

Perfect

Skipping stone.

He throws

And smiles

And skips

Four times.

I too smile.

Will he manage fourteen

By the time he is

Fourteen

(and three quarters)

And beat my own

Fourteen skips

At twenty two?

Or is it enough
To be content
At four?

This is just a rough sketch of something I got inspired to write after accidentally getting onto the wrong train. It needs some work, a little more metaphor, but I'm liking the idea so far.

Flora

2008-10-13T15:39:00.001-07:00

Trees blow in the wind. Snap, rumble, they're unnoticed. Bums begging for change.