emily has a head on her shoulders
a smile like the sunrise
and eyes like a woodland scene
she talks like a blanket
and moves like wind through the trees
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Philosophy
There wasn’t anything particularly unusual, just an average day. I’m used to it. Wake up, shower, eat breakfast, go to school. School was ordinary. It always is. Nothing ever happens when you expect it. But then I never expect anything to happen. I guess I was asking for a meteor to come hurtling down from space, hit me on the head, and when I woke from the coma to be a genius. But since I was subconsciously asking for it, naturally it didn’t happen. I guess I must be subconsciously asking for a lot of things because I rarely ever get any.
I definitely didn’t ask for my car to die. I should remember to ask for that sometime. And for a old beater car to replace the one I have. The nastiest, junkiest car in the world. Then I saw it. I want that car.
The nastiest, junkiest car in the world was pulled over on the side of the road. It probably died. I feel for you man, I really do. The man looked up at me and asked if I could give him a hand. I could, so I did. How come this guy gets what he asks for? Shoot, I had to ask for the nastiest, junkiest car in the world.
I really didn’t want to get home anymore, afraid of what I might find in my driveway. If this poor guy’s car looked this bad, I’d hate to see what my new car might look like. I remembered something Willy Wonka told Charlie at the end of his movie. It was something along the lines of asking Charlie what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he ever wanted. Charlie didn’t know, so Willy Wonka told him. He said that the man lived happily ever after. And I had to ask for a stupid beater car. Oh well, I probably deserved it.
Fate. It was probably fate that my car died, I had to walk home, and that I happened to stop to help the guy with the second nastiest, junkiest car in the world. I was bent down under the hood looking at something instead of the man. I should’ve been looking at the man. It’s usually nice knowing that someone’s about to hit you over the head with one of those wrenches used for taking lug nuts off the wheels. Normal people don’t do that do they? I can’t imagine normal people do. No matter what you call normal, I’m pretty sure hitting me over the head with a wrench isn’t it.
The pain was exquisite. Sure it hurt, but since I couldn’t really feel anything else, I figured I might as well savor it. I woke up and it was gone. I kind of missed it, but not enough to want to get hit in the head again. The question was whether I had decided that it was best to ask for things I didn’t want, to ensure that I wouldn’t get them, or whether I should ask for things that would make me live happily ever after if I ever happened to come across them. Slowly the pain started to ease back into my head. I didn’t miss it as much as I thought I had. I’d have to remind my self to stop trying to out think myself. More pain.
I decided to trick the pain away. I’d have to risk a sharp stab, but headaches are the pits so I figured it was worth it. Pie. I want pie. Oddly enough, I had pie. It was sitting on the plate sitting on the table sitting right in front of me. Was that table always there? Pain. Who cares? There’s a piece of pie. There was also a fork but I was getting smart enough not to question whether or not it was there just a moment before, when I first found the pie.
The man sitting at the table asked if I wanted to sit down. I wanted, so I sat. The man sitting next to him asked me if I wanted anything to drink. I told him an Italian soda would be nice, and he agreed with me. The man holding a serving tray, standing next to me handed me an Italian soda. He gave one to the second man too. The first man was already drinking a cup of coffee. The third wasn’t thirsty so he placed his tray on the table, took a seat, and picked up a Danish that may or may not have been there before he sat down. Frankly I didn’t care much about the Danish. I’d come to know better than that.
I wasn’t really that hungry. Nor were the first two men really thirsty. The third man was finished his Danish rather quickly, but then it’s hard to eat pastries slowly. We mostly sat and talked, casually eating or drinking. At one point the second man picked up a Danish and once he finished it, his Italian soda that had been sitting on the table was considerably lower. I didn’t mind though.
I finished my refreshments and declined a Danish that the third man offered me. The first man took a sip of his coffee and looked at me. He looked strangely familiar but I couldn’t put my finger on it. He thanked me for helping him with his car. I chose not to know what he was talking about.
There was something strange about this place, finally having realized that I had to be somewhere and that it wasn’t anywhere I recognized. But I didn’t care. The air felt different. It wasn’t heavier or lighter, or staler or fresher, than normal. It wasn’t any more or less enriched with oxygen, not that I’d have been able to tell anyway. Suddenly I found it. It was Pink Floyd. Pink Floyd was in the air. Not enough to hear it but you could feel it. It was the most ambient thing I’d ever not heard in my life.
"And I am not frightened of dying, any time will do, I don't mind. Why should I be frightened of dying? There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime."
"I never said I was frightened of dying."
“You see,” the first man told me as he sipped his coffee, “it’s never been about taking over the world. Anyone can take over the world. It’s about not taking over the world. That’s tricky.”
He took another sip of his coffee. The third man offered me another Danish. I took it this time. The first man put his coffee down and started running his fingers back and forth across the table. He was ambiguously slender. Probably tall too, but he was sitting so I couldn’t tell. It wasn’t really noticeable. Nothing about him or the other two men was. Nor was this place or anything in it. For all I knew, there weren’t any doors and I didn’t really feel like checking.
“Did you ever watch Life is Beautiful?” the first man asked me, picking his coffee back up. “It was a good movie.”
He slid a plate of coffee cakes across the table to me.
“You don’t have to agree with me,” he said after I failed to reply. It wasn’t that I disagreed. I just couldn’t remember having actually said anything out loud yet. I didn’t want to think about how I asked him for an Italian soda and how I never told him what flavor. So I didn’t.
“There’s no point in taking over the world. The happiest people are the ones who have no power. At least not any power over anybody else. Have you ever seen The Cool Hand Luke?” He set his coffee back on the table. “It was good too.”
“So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell…”
“I like this song” the second man said. The first man picked his coffee back up.
“And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?”
The first man looked up at me and asked if I had heard this song before.
“It doesn’t really matter,” he said, taking another sip of coffee. “Taking over the world is pointless.”
It didn’t really bother me that he kept talking about not taking over the world. Ignorance, it seems, is bliss. Or at least it’s not a headache. He started talking again.
“Have you ever noticed that people who are open minded are close minded to anyone who isn’t? Probably not, most people don’t.” He took a sip of coffee. “Have you ever wanted to live in a freethinking society where everyone was allowed to be wrong?”
“Is there anybody out there?”
The first man sighed. He looked kind of sad. He started stirring his coffee. I didn’t know that people stirred coffee. Apparently they do.
“It’s probably about time you got home,” he said. He looked up at me again. Then slowly, he stood. He was unnoticeably tall. I couldn’t figure out why he looked so sad. A single tear rolled down his cheek, “It’s not about taking over the world.”
He continued to look at me. He didn’t blink; the tear glistened on his cheek.
“Life is Beautiful,” he said. “You should watch it sometime.”
I definitely didn’t ask for my car to die. I should remember to ask for that sometime. And for a old beater car to replace the one I have. The nastiest, junkiest car in the world. Then I saw it. I want that car.
The nastiest, junkiest car in the world was pulled over on the side of the road. It probably died. I feel for you man, I really do. The man looked up at me and asked if I could give him a hand. I could, so I did. How come this guy gets what he asks for? Shoot, I had to ask for the nastiest, junkiest car in the world.
I really didn’t want to get home anymore, afraid of what I might find in my driveway. If this poor guy’s car looked this bad, I’d hate to see what my new car might look like. I remembered something Willy Wonka told Charlie at the end of his movie. It was something along the lines of asking Charlie what happened to the man who suddenly got everything he ever wanted. Charlie didn’t know, so Willy Wonka told him. He said that the man lived happily ever after. And I had to ask for a stupid beater car. Oh well, I probably deserved it.
Fate. It was probably fate that my car died, I had to walk home, and that I happened to stop to help the guy with the second nastiest, junkiest car in the world. I was bent down under the hood looking at something instead of the man. I should’ve been looking at the man. It’s usually nice knowing that someone’s about to hit you over the head with one of those wrenches used for taking lug nuts off the wheels. Normal people don’t do that do they? I can’t imagine normal people do. No matter what you call normal, I’m pretty sure hitting me over the head with a wrench isn’t it.
The pain was exquisite. Sure it hurt, but since I couldn’t really feel anything else, I figured I might as well savor it. I woke up and it was gone. I kind of missed it, but not enough to want to get hit in the head again. The question was whether I had decided that it was best to ask for things I didn’t want, to ensure that I wouldn’t get them, or whether I should ask for things that would make me live happily ever after if I ever happened to come across them. Slowly the pain started to ease back into my head. I didn’t miss it as much as I thought I had. I’d have to remind my self to stop trying to out think myself. More pain.
I decided to trick the pain away. I’d have to risk a sharp stab, but headaches are the pits so I figured it was worth it. Pie. I want pie. Oddly enough, I had pie. It was sitting on the plate sitting on the table sitting right in front of me. Was that table always there? Pain. Who cares? There’s a piece of pie. There was also a fork but I was getting smart enough not to question whether or not it was there just a moment before, when I first found the pie.
The man sitting at the table asked if I wanted to sit down. I wanted, so I sat. The man sitting next to him asked me if I wanted anything to drink. I told him an Italian soda would be nice, and he agreed with me. The man holding a serving tray, standing next to me handed me an Italian soda. He gave one to the second man too. The first man was already drinking a cup of coffee. The third wasn’t thirsty so he placed his tray on the table, took a seat, and picked up a Danish that may or may not have been there before he sat down. Frankly I didn’t care much about the Danish. I’d come to know better than that.
I wasn’t really that hungry. Nor were the first two men really thirsty. The third man was finished his Danish rather quickly, but then it’s hard to eat pastries slowly. We mostly sat and talked, casually eating or drinking. At one point the second man picked up a Danish and once he finished it, his Italian soda that had been sitting on the table was considerably lower. I didn’t mind though.
I finished my refreshments and declined a Danish that the third man offered me. The first man took a sip of his coffee and looked at me. He looked strangely familiar but I couldn’t put my finger on it. He thanked me for helping him with his car. I chose not to know what he was talking about.
There was something strange about this place, finally having realized that I had to be somewhere and that it wasn’t anywhere I recognized. But I didn’t care. The air felt different. It wasn’t heavier or lighter, or staler or fresher, than normal. It wasn’t any more or less enriched with oxygen, not that I’d have been able to tell anyway. Suddenly I found it. It was Pink Floyd. Pink Floyd was in the air. Not enough to hear it but you could feel it. It was the most ambient thing I’d ever not heard in my life.
"And I am not frightened of dying, any time will do, I don't mind. Why should I be frightened of dying? There's no reason for it, you've gotta go sometime."
"I never said I was frightened of dying."
“You see,” the first man told me as he sipped his coffee, “it’s never been about taking over the world. Anyone can take over the world. It’s about not taking over the world. That’s tricky.”
He took another sip of his coffee. The third man offered me another Danish. I took it this time. The first man put his coffee down and started running his fingers back and forth across the table. He was ambiguously slender. Probably tall too, but he was sitting so I couldn’t tell. It wasn’t really noticeable. Nothing about him or the other two men was. Nor was this place or anything in it. For all I knew, there weren’t any doors and I didn’t really feel like checking.
“Did you ever watch Life is Beautiful?” the first man asked me, picking his coffee back up. “It was a good movie.”
He slid a plate of coffee cakes across the table to me.
“You don’t have to agree with me,” he said after I failed to reply. It wasn’t that I disagreed. I just couldn’t remember having actually said anything out loud yet. I didn’t want to think about how I asked him for an Italian soda and how I never told him what flavor. So I didn’t.
“There’s no point in taking over the world. The happiest people are the ones who have no power. At least not any power over anybody else. Have you ever seen The Cool Hand Luke?” He set his coffee back on the table. “It was good too.”
“So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell…”
“I like this song” the second man said. The first man picked his coffee back up.
“And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?”
The first man looked up at me and asked if I had heard this song before.
“It doesn’t really matter,” he said, taking another sip of coffee. “Taking over the world is pointless.”
It didn’t really bother me that he kept talking about not taking over the world. Ignorance, it seems, is bliss. Or at least it’s not a headache. He started talking again.
“Have you ever noticed that people who are open minded are close minded to anyone who isn’t? Probably not, most people don’t.” He took a sip of coffee. “Have you ever wanted to live in a freethinking society where everyone was allowed to be wrong?”
“Is there anybody out there?”
The first man sighed. He looked kind of sad. He started stirring his coffee. I didn’t know that people stirred coffee. Apparently they do.
“It’s probably about time you got home,” he said. He looked up at me again. Then slowly, he stood. He was unnoticeably tall. I couldn’t figure out why he looked so sad. A single tear rolled down his cheek, “It’s not about taking over the world.”
He continued to look at me. He didn’t blink; the tear glistened on his cheek.
“Life is Beautiful,” he said. “You should watch it sometime.”
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Lucy
don't tell me
I'm not
I am
if you say
differently
you'd be wrong
I am
I am a bad faun
it's not
what I've done
it's what
I'm doing
it's what
I plan to do
Lucy
I'm kidnapping you
I'm such
a bad faun
I am
such a bad faun
it's not
what I've done
it's what
I'm doing
it's what
I plan to do
Lucy
I'm kidnapping you
I'm kidnapping you
sit tight
everything
will be fine
someday
you’ll be mine
Lucy
someday
you’ll be mine
it's not
what I've done
it's what
I'm doing
it's what
I plan to do
I'm kidnapping you
Lucy
I am kidnapping you
I'm not
I am
if you say
differently
you'd be wrong
I am
I am a bad faun
it's not
what I've done
it's what
I'm doing
it's what
I plan to do
Lucy
I'm kidnapping you
I'm such
a bad faun
I am
such a bad faun
it's not
what I've done
it's what
I'm doing
it's what
I plan to do
Lucy
I'm kidnapping you
I'm kidnapping you
sit tight
everything
will be fine
someday
you’ll be mine
Lucy
someday
you’ll be mine
it's not
what I've done
it's what
I'm doing
it's what
I plan to do
I'm kidnapping you
Lucy
I am kidnapping you
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Wrong By Nature
i. when people plant a garden
it's in hopes of what will come
not because weeding
and watering
are necessarily any fun
ii. how much does it hurt
having a rusting Chevy
in your yard
I wonder how much
it hurts the car
iii. the bigger the risk
the bigger the return
if only I knew the metaphor
for the money earned
iv. is it wrong by nature
simply by design
or can it be
sometimes right
if given enough time
it's in hopes of what will come
not because weeding
and watering
are necessarily any fun
ii. how much does it hurt
having a rusting Chevy
in your yard
I wonder how much
it hurts the car
iii. the bigger the risk
the bigger the return
if only I knew the metaphor
for the money earned
iv. is it wrong by nature
simply by design
or can it be
sometimes right
if given enough time
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Jacob
jacob climbs the tree again;
with a pocket full of mistletoe.
he sits on a branch
and swings his feet,
watching all the girls below.
now jacob,
sitting there,
looks oh so sweet;
and the girls can't wait
to be swept off their feet.
he helps them up
through the branches,
where he tells them
they're his everything.
now,
jacob is no gentleman;
but he's easily mistaken
for one.
it's not his fault;
it's theirs,
he swears.
owing to how
he never tried to be one.
so once again,
we find our friend
caught in quite
the predicament.
it seems the girls
get stuck in his tree,
even after he's
through with them.
his friends all point
and laugh at him;
because he's gone
and done it again.
while all the girls
line up below,
hoping
for a chance
to spend the day
kissing in the tree
with my friend
jacob.
with a pocket full of mistletoe.
he sits on a branch
and swings his feet,
watching all the girls below.
now jacob,
sitting there,
looks oh so sweet;
and the girls can't wait
to be swept off their feet.
he helps them up
through the branches,
where he tells them
they're his everything.
now,
jacob is no gentleman;
but he's easily mistaken
for one.
it's not his fault;
it's theirs,
he swears.
owing to how
he never tried to be one.
so once again,
we find our friend
caught in quite
the predicament.
it seems the girls
get stuck in his tree,
even after he's
through with them.
his friends all point
and laugh at him;
because he's gone
and done it again.
while all the girls
line up below,
hoping
for a chance
to spend the day
kissing in the tree
with my friend
jacob.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Alaska
'pack your bags
we're moving to Alaska'
he told his son
one morning
his son looked at him
like he was crazy
for a minute
but his dad
just looked back
his son realized
he was serious
so he packed his bags
'why are we moving?'
the son asked his dad
'I'll explain it on the way'
the son shrugged
and hauled his bags
out to the car
they were halfway
through Canada
when the son
finally looked
at his dad
and asked again
'why are we moving?'
his dad turned
to face him
and told him
'when God says something
you listen'
the son stared
at the road ahead
'where in Alaska
are we going?'
his dad didn't look
at him this time
he just kept his eyes
on the road ahead
'I don't know'
we're moving to Alaska'
he told his son
one morning
his son looked at him
like he was crazy
for a minute
but his dad
just looked back
his son realized
he was serious
so he packed his bags
'why are we moving?'
the son asked his dad
'I'll explain it on the way'
the son shrugged
and hauled his bags
out to the car
they were halfway
through Canada
when the son
finally looked
at his dad
and asked again
'why are we moving?'
his dad turned
to face him
and told him
'when God says something
you listen'
the son stared
at the road ahead
'where in Alaska
are we going?'
his dad didn't look
at him this time
he just kept his eyes
on the road ahead
'I don't know'
Monday, February 9, 2009
The Order of Things
Some things simply shouldn't be done. Others should only be done with great care. Then, there are those that require great care to not be done at all.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
The Game
he knows that he'll win
because he knows
that he's right
there's no point
in running the bases
just to fight the fight
and he intends
to beat them all
at the game
that he refused to play
as he puts down the bat
and just walks away
Saturday, February 7, 2009
The Beginning
I write a lot. Most of the things that I write get filed away into places where they'll never be read by anybody but myself. I have a few blogs that I maintain, but up until now, they've all serviced a very small audience that consists of none of my peers. I've tried a few times to start a regular, public blog, but it hasn't ever worked out very well. This blog exists for the sole purpose of giving me a place where I can post things that I've written, so that anybody who feels so inclined can read them.
The contents of my posts will likely range from material that I wrote during my days in middle school to things that I've written on the spot. Enjoy.
The contents of my posts will likely range from material that I wrote during my days in middle school to things that I've written on the spot. Enjoy.
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