A digital experiment: I attempt to write 15 minutes everyday about everything and nothing. Unedited, Unfiltered, just Un- (typos and grammatical errors are abundant)
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Day ninety-two
Monday, November 8, 2010
Day ninety-one
This morning the world nearly ended
Day ninety
Saturday, November 6, 2010
eighty-nine
Day eighty-eight
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Day eighty-seven
Your hands fit perfectly in mine, our fingers
Day eighty-six
A nightmare. I’m in a nightmare. the bottom of my soles grip the heavy ground like an ivy tendril that grasps a tree trunk. Tad finally jolts me. “What’s her damn problem?” he says. The words come sharp like an e string on a guitar. I shrug. I replay the moment fast forwarding and rewinding, I edit different angles of my memory. I clutch the rock in my pocket. Take it out and begin to polish it with my shirt. The tiger’s eye in my hand still reminds me of your eyes. Should I have remained silent like a graveyard statue when you passed by? Should I have said something else, anything else, as long it wasn’t hey? I’m silent and remain silent for the rest of the day, and I’m afraid to open my mouth, afraid that you will hate me, afraid that you would stop talking too, afraid.
Approx 30min
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Day eighty-five
I like sitting in the far back, because I think it sounds better, especially if the recital hall is well insulated for acoustics. In the back, I finally get to hear the music, after it has traveled through the ears of so many others. I also like to see the big picture, the players vigorously handling their instruments.
So after the concert, my sister's friend wanted to meet the lead singer. We wait outside for at least 2 hours before the guy shows up in the loading area of the venue where everyone is waiting for him. And my sister got her picture taken. What is the point of this? Nothing, but it gives me an entry for now.
On another note, I almost got hit by a car today that is/was involved in a high speed pursuit with not just 1 cop car, not just 2, but 5... I've never seen so many cars move that quickly without being like a nascar wreck on the freeway.
That is all for now.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Day eighty-four
Where do you see God at work in the world?
Where do you see God at work in you (this one is often hard – ask a Christian friend you trust to help you answer this, or ask God to open your eyes to what God is doing in you: don’t forget, God could be at work in your questions!
What are one or two small steps can you do to move closer to God at work in you and in the world?
Randy,
The questions you’ve asked are almost impossible for me to answer at this point in time. I cannot tell you where I see God at work if I don’t even fully believe He exists. I do not follow both of the commandments Jesus stated in Matthew 22:37 – 40. Hypothetically speaking if I, from some divine intervention, retain what is called unconditional belief in God, I would imagine that I would say something like this:
God is at work everywhere, His omnipresent, omniscient, omni- benevolent, and omnipotent being works every minute of every day. His work is seen in nature, in life and death, in miracles, and all things good. I’ve seen God’s work in people moved by the Holy Spirit. I’ve seen God’s work move people to do unexpected things such as giving up their possessions and become missionaries in foreign countries to spread his word. God’s work, like Him, exists everywhere, sometime people do not recognize when He is working in them. The nearly avoided traffic accident, the serendipity of eros love, the arrival of friendship in times of depression, are all everyday examples of God’s work.
If I was a true believer I would say all these things without question without doubt, but I don’t see God’s work often. This may be blasphemous, but I mostly see a bitter and angry Father disappointed with his children – teaching his children to love out of fear. (Romans 1:18 being an example, I haven’t read much of the Old Testament, but from what I’m told God was indeed very wrathful in the Old days). Christ seemed to have intervened and as they say in that all too quoted John 3:16 (mostly at football games and wrestling matches) “For God so loved the world...” It seems though all of my non-believing will eventually lead me to perish. But, I would rather perish than to pretend to believe in something I don’t— A view that causes me great discomfort (as it should I suppose).
As for your second question: Assuming that God exists and that I believe in Him unconditionally, I would say I see God’s work in me everyday when I think about epistemological questions about truth and ontological questions of being and know that even though I question I still believe in His existence, that there is some inherent part of my being fighting a battle, let’s say my soul, for this belief. I have asked God several times to reveal Himself to me. I read and re-read Matthew 7:7-12 and Luke 11:5-10 in hopes that my audacity will finally get noticed by God. I feel frustrated, because I assume the search for God would be a peaceful, and in a more ignorant sense a simple one. I find myself questioning and confronting everything I read. I feel so much resistance, perhaps it could be called insecurity, in my search for God. if there was a way to say a prayer and just believe I would love to know what it is. Perhaps I see God at work in me when I have this unknown desire to be reconciled with Him (Romans 5:11). I read once that I feel spiritual guilt because I did not know or accept that guilt has been paid for by Christ.
I’m not sure any steps I take will move me closer to God in myself or at work.
The only steps I see are vast ones. “Leaps of Faith” if you will, but I suppose I could read the Bible more often and pray. If possible, I could humor myself and perhaps even God by just letting go of all doubt. It seems impossible though.
I know I haven’t really answered your questions and honestly I don’t know how to properly answer them (if there is even a proper way). I’m sorry for this. I wish there was a better way to convey myself. If you need me to clarify anything let me know, though I might not even know how to. One day I hope you ask me these questions again when I’m a true believer.
I have some questions for you if you have the time:
When you say “The truth is, faith in Jesus is not primarily fueled by feeling, but instead, it is fueled by intentional choices to live each day in the presence of God” I’m not sure what you mean by living each day in the presence of God. If God’s already always present, wouldn’t all of our actions be in His presence? What are some examples of intentional choices that lead to living each day in the presence of God?
Do you believe God chases after those who don’t believe in Him? Do you think he truly gives us a choice to believe or not to believe? I know this is a heavy handed question predicated by the issue of “Free Will”, but I would at least like to know your opinion, even if there isn’t an answer.
Thanks again for responding and taking the time to reply. I know you are very busy and this email is very long, so I’m not expecting a response right away and I definitely can wait. I’m not sure if I can repay you for your time, but perhaps when I stop becoming a heathen it will be revealed to me.
2:43:41
Day eighty-three
An’she and Mu’sha
Part One of Mistrunner.
The Earthmother, her heart heavy with her children’s plight, could not bear to watch them fall from grace. In her grief, she tore out her eyes and set them spinning across the endless starry skies. An’she and Mu’sha, seeking to ease the other’s sorrow, could only chase each other’s faint glow across the sky.
-Excerpt from Sorrow of the Earthmother.
Mu’sha, the left eye of the Earthmother, glowed dimly through the clouds above the lands of old Lordaeron. A yellow fog hugged the land as a Shu’halo (The Children of the Earth, Tauren) prepared a camp near a dying evergreen tree somewhere in northern Lordaeron. He set his companion, a midnight colored hawk owl, near him as he sat down and wrote in his journal—
Day One hundred and eighty-six: I have found a unique species of what the followers of the Banshee Queen call Plaguebloom. It has some of the properties that The Circle has been looking for. I have still avoided detection from the Scourge, it appears their attention is distracted. The land here is not right, it seems to have gotten progressively worse than when I first arrived. The further I go into the wilds the worse it is. Something is worsening its condition. Although, some parts of the land are fighting back though; it is as if it were a child desperately fighting off an infection. I will continue my mission and bring a sample back to Nighthaven for further study at the end of the…
The Shu’halo heard twigs snapping nearby and stopped writing. He detected no signs of the undead, but it was difficult to see or sense anything in the dense fog that enveloped him. He looked deeply into the fog, straining his eyes, and saw the shape of red flames approaching. “Strange” he muttered to himself as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing. The flames did not give off any light, but it was clear to him that they were moving closer. Cold and silent the crimson flames slowly encircled the lone bull. The Shu’halo, sensing the danger, quickly scrawled lettering on his parchment and attached it to the leg of his hawk owl, and said “Go now Ero and find your way home, safe journey old friend.” The sound of drawn steel and human laughter soon surrounded him. It was too late to escape; the Shu’halo grabbed his mace and prepared to fight. The flames approached closer as the laughter grew louder. The moon was soon covered by black clouds and a heavy darkness covered the land like a blanket. In the distance the Shu’halo could hear his name called out.
“Jongo! Jongoooo! Jooonnngooo!” Jongo’s sister screamed as she poked the tired bull in the back.
“Only a dream, or nightmare.” Jongo thought to himself as he trudged across the bridge between the land of sleep and the land of awake. “Go away
“Wake up you lazy turtle! Mother wants to speak with you. And oh I umm did it again, brother.”
Jongo looked at the withered plant and sighed, he closed his eyes and muttered grow. As though by command the twig began to sprout leaves and grew taller and its roots spread quickly. The plant grew to five times its size, bore small fruit, and its large roots curled out and destroyed the ceramic vessel that once held it. “You would be hard pressed to kill this one. Remember to water it once a day.” Jongo chuckled.
“You always overdo things! Hmmph, and you better hurry, Mother looks pretty serious about this, I bet you’re in trouble.”
It was not yet dawn when Jongo stepped out of his room into the brisk morning air. He looked at his trembling hands as he tried to make sense of his dream. The terror felt real enough and Jongo shook his head. “Only a dream.” He muttered. He saw his mother waiting for him outside her hut; her eyes were sharper than quilboar tusks. He had not seen his mother this concerned or anxious since the death of his father over ten years ago.
“Jongo, Hamuul Runetotem has sent for you. It’s about your brother Chaske. I-I don’t know what this is all about, but he sent for you specifically and would tell me no more. You are to meet him on Elder’s Rise at nightfall. He says Chaske’s on an important errand, but-but something doesn’t feel right.” His mother tried to push back the tears that were flowing down her face.
“I’m sure Chaske’s fine, Mother, He can take care of himself. He’s a fine druid; Hamuul himself said that he was the best he’s seen in decades. besides, we both know that he’s on a special errand for the Warchief.” Jongo said grasping his mother’s shoulder.
“It’s been over half a year since we’ve heard from him, not one word, and I don’t know what to think. And now out of nowhere Hamuul’s messenger comes and says you are needed and it’s about Chaske!? What could it mean?” Jongo’s mother replied.
“I don’t know Mother, but I will let you know as soon as I find out. The sun’s almost up and I have to tend to the northern orchards they are looking a little withered, I’ll let you know what happens after the meeting, I promise, I love you Mother.” With that said Jongo hugged his mother and left for the fields below Thunder Bluff.
The day passed quickly and soon An’she, the right eye of the Earthmother, descended slowly toward the edge of the World. Bright hues of pinks and oranges were painted behind her wake, the sky blazed, and Mu’sha, the left eye trailed not far behind. In the distance the sound of drums pounded like thunder echoing off of mountains. Day was at an end and the many Shu’halo that were out farming, hunting, and gathering were returning to their homes on the windswept mesa of Thunder Bluff. Jongo Mistrunner stood, staring at the bright orb falling behind cascading mountains, on one of the wood planked bridges that connected the main rise of Thunder Bluff to the Elder rise. The bridge swayed softly, rocked by the wind, as if it was being cradled by the Earthmother herself. “What could Hamuul want or need and what does this have to do with Chaske?” Jongo reflected as he continued to watch the setting sun.
End of Part One.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Day eighty-two
Friday, October 29, 2010
Day eighty-one
Day eighty
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Day seventy-nine
Day seventy-eight
Monday, October 25, 2010
Day seventy-seven
There's always a sense of uncertainty
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Day seventy-six
Day seventy-five
Friday, October 22, 2010
Day seventy-four
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Day seventy-three
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Day seventy-two
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Day seventy-one
Monday, October 18, 2010
Day seventy
She walks with anger in her hands
nails dig into palms, she wants to
the door and I follow her as she
reaches for another bottle. I want
to grab her wrist and say enough
is enough, but my hands pass through
air when I'm close enough to touch
her. She smirks and her dry smile
shows me that she's right. I won't
interfere again. The glass bounces
against the hardwood floor as she
drops the precious liquid. Nothing
shatters nor shakes, nor quiver nor
quakes. Every night she comes and goes
A perpetual moving image in my mind.
Love sometimes survives death,
but survival comes at a price.
11:19
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Day sixty-nine
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Day sixty-eight
Day sixty-seven
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Day sixty-six
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Day sixty-five
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Day sixty-four
"Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love" - 1 John 4:8
Show me how to love. Her voice
cuts through crisp autumn air. I
know she's concentrating on my
eyes. It is night. Her pupils twitch back
and forth, refocus like twin
camera lenses as they try to capture
the universe behind my dark orbs.
But there is no such universe, only
Monday, October 11, 2010
Day sixty-three
I am an awkward person, the same
as the feeling you get when you
forget an old friend's name. I
don't snore, but I'm told I talk
in the middle of the night when
things grow quiet, when the crickets
stop singing. I like crude humor
the kind that make little school boys
giggle on the playground-- typical
dick and fart jokes. I have delusions
of grandeur and sometimes think my poems
can move mountains, that poetry will
save the world one day. When I experience
something new, I know if I like it or not
almost immediately. I will like the sound
of your voice, so keep talking. Your parents
will think I'm a nice young man, but you
know the truth. I like astrology and I
want to believe in ghosts. I am perfect
for you, but not perfect at all. I'm clumsy
and will break something of yours, or trip
and fall in front of you. I might make
you cry one day, and I apologize for that
right now, it will probably be an insensitive
remark. I like watching films at the run
down dollar theater, the floor sticky
and the chairs falling apart. I don't
watch sports and I have no interest,
save for some Olympic ones. I love to read
and I love talking to you.
15:17
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Day sixty-two
And if they listened I
would not be alive. "Dead in
a ditch" as they say. The twelve
small holes still ache on
my wrists. "You did it
wrong", the girl next to me
says in the ward. She smiles
and holds up her arms. On each
wrist a white line starts
from her palm and rivers
downward. "Third time" she
whispers like a child who
shows her mother a finger
painting. Would I be on
the other side if you hadn't
rushed in, dialed those three
digits, raving hysterical manic.
If you did not Speak to me
or cut the threads that tie
us together, would I still
stare at the poor girl next
to me, screaming silently
for help? No, because if you
chose to stay home after
seeing the flare of my Facebook
message, God would have taken
me and you would be protected.
15:37
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Day sixty-one
We are perfect for each other
like the way the Moon and Earth
revolve around an endless waltz,
but I don't love you the way
you deserved to be loved. The spark
isn't there. I imagine that love
is just a word of colors. We
aren't on the same spectrum
and the feeling that grows from
the pit of my stomach isn't
there anymore like an empty
cave after a bear has awaken
from its hibernation. I am astronaut
in the coldness of space, waving
his hand trying to touch the rim
of the bright blue atmosphere.
Goodbye, there's nothing more to say.
15:11
Day sixty
There's always the little
things that enter the mind,
like worms burrowing into soft
earth. The nuances that repeat
and repeat-- The way she ties her
hair in a pony tail, the color of
the ribbon. Even the way she walks
as though she always has an important
place to go, fill the mind's projection
screen. I can't stop. I know it is wrong
to want. She's a Capulet, and my family
has neither title nor rank. I wish the mind
could wipe memories like the ocean sometimes
erases land. But I have these thoughts
spread against me like a woolen lover*.
Perhaps this is love? No love
is much stronger I suppose. Never
have I been truly in love. Perhaps
I've found the wrong fragments of
my Soul. The ones that never quite
seem to fit like mysterious jig saw
pieces. I'm waiting for a larger
chunk of my past life to wander
haphazardly into my life like a drunken
stag or turtle. Or maybe, I'm the small
fragment finding another small
piece of a greater whole.
15:00
*Stolen from John Berryman's Dream Song 1 http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15206
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Day fifty-nine
I look too deeply, a fraction
too long than I'm supposed to
and you don't blink, like you're
supposed to. There's no wide chasm
between us and for a fraction
we linger, but we're supposed to
break apart. It's almost like you're
caught in a trance. No wide chasm
to divide us like a fraction
with a zero denominator. Supposed to
such nonsense like you're
a common dishrag. The wide chasm
of breaking hearts a fraction
of things that I'm supposed to
take as "life experience" like you're
Father always said. "Always a wide chasm"
And here I stand again.
15:12
(Yeah don't ask... I'm on cold medication right now)
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Day fifty-eight
Likes:
I am not a vegetarian, but I like vegetarian
foods. I enjoy staring into women's eyes. Yes,
it's a bit weird. I like watching sunsets
and sunrises, I find it sad that some people
don't take the time and look up and see
the grandeur of the sky-- each individual
scape different from the other. I like
people's laughter. Not toward me of course,
but shared laughter. I like the sound of Kina
Grannis's voice. I like martial arts, both the martial
and arts aspect. They seem opposing, war and art, but
somehow come together beautifully. I like paper
cranes and the taste of blue Gatorade. I like
music of all sorts. I like walking barefoot
at the beach. I like being near water.
I like people who aren't fake. I like people
who are passionate about things. I like
oranges, even though some people may hate
the color and it doesn't rhyme with anything.
I like being not sick. I like sleeping and
dreaming good dreams. I like crystals and
seashells. I like the end of things and
the beginnings of other things.
15:32
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Day fifty-seven
The Fifteenth Day of October in the Year of Our Lord 2010
I have finally contracted the plague. The apothecary tells me that I may yet live another day. He gave me herbal medicines and salves and tells me that if I have not healed within ten days I am lost. I prayed to the Lord that I will be healed, but so many others have been taken by His grace. In a valiant attempt for the quest of science I will record my symptoms below:
-Soreness in eyes
-Severe cough
-Stuffed nose
-Body aches
-Breathing difficulty
I fear that if these symptoms continue, all will be lost. In the future I hope that one day a scientist or apothecary may devise a cure all for these symptoms, one that does not involve death or blood letting. If I shall pass in the coming days, I wish blessing to all those who have known me.
6:06
I have a cold :/
Monday, October 4, 2010
Day fifty-six
9:21
Day fifty-five
Attendance
The trumpet drew me in, too
and unlike you I walked right into
it. Too much alcohol pours
freely passed from hand to hand
like water from a fire bucket brigade.
And you were right to think
that in here is sex, what you would
see as pure indecency. It doesn't hide in
the dark anymore as Women lick each
other the way dogs lick their master's hand.
The bump and grind replaces
"the maul to and fro" The loud
thump of music drags for hours--
everything's a blur of flashing lights.
And every bar tender knows-- "Satisfied"
is the question asked to the poor
chump hugging the heavenly toilet.
And I have misjudged myself
as the rough tongued-bell rings outside.
18:13
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Day fifty-four
For the first time in 3 years I got fucked up. One shot of cuervo, two shots of crown, one shot of yager, and two shots of khalua. None of which I paid for, so I got really lucky. I have a headache now. It is very bad. I will probably never get drunk again for another 3 years. I don't like having headaches. Today I saw two girls kissing and three girls giving each other lap dances. It was awesome and awkward at the same time. I probably won't remember what I am writing now. But, I had the sudden urge to keep up with my 15 minute a day project. Thank god for my designated driver Shin, without him I would have had to call a cab, because drunk driving is super stupid. I am at Shin's place and he has a large light fixture that looks like daisies and Eric thinks it's a monstrosity. Shin is going to bed. Chris, the other Chris is passed out in the bathroom, because he got more effed up than myself. I can't believe I am typing, my head feels like a nuclear bomb. But I will write, no matter what. Eric is awesome because he gave me a blanket and pillow to sleep in. These guys are amazing folks and I would not trade them for a million dollars. Maybe 1 billion, but not a million. Tomorrow I go to church to see my friends Leah and Stephen in the praise band. They are going to play their original composition and I'm very excited for them. I might regret everything I said tomorrow. But as of now I haven't done anything bad and I feel content. I didn't even think about my ex-girlfriend one bit. Right now I love my life. Maybe it's the alcohol. I miss you Twan and I miss Lisa a little, but she made her decision and I respect it. I also love my co-workers with the exception of one, which we all know who it is. I put my hands up in the air tonight saying Ayo let's gooo.
15:11
Friday, October 1, 2010
Day fifty-three
Bungee Jump
Get a tattoo
Visit Spain
Visit New York City
Visit Washington D.C.
Visit Oregon
Visit The Wizarding World of Harry Potter
Do a back flip
Scuba dive in the Great Barrier Reef
Visit New Zealand
Hug a penguin in Argentina
Visit Philip Larkin's grave
Meet the president, any president
Be in a feature film (as an extra or something)
Read my poems in a packed house
Be on stage with OneRepublic
Eat fish and chips at an English Pub
Visit Tokyo
Visit Interlocken
Find true love?
Have a home near a large body of water
Go shell hunting at a deserted beach
Be in a hot air balloon festival, in a hot air balloon of course
Learn to drive a manual, well
Learn to bake artisan bread
Be a part of a flash mob
Witness a flash mob happening at random
Jump in a pool of green Jello
Meet Natalie Portman
Help a person that actually needs help
Have a fully lucid dream
Have a large entourage of beautiful women walk down the street with me (don't ask)
Photograph a kiss
Spontaneously start dance in a crowded street and have others follow suit
Make music for a video game or film
Make another person smile and have that person make another person smile
Visit a large observatory/planetarium in the middle of nowhere
Sleep under the stars with uncluttered light pollution
Go gem/treasure hunting
Learn to sail
Learn to horseback ride
Hug a llama
Participate in an activist march
Hug a citizen of every country in the world in order to promote world peace
Drive over 120 mph
Win a contest
16:39
Day fifty-two
Only a drunkard would have thought
knocking down ten wooden pins
with a resin ball would entertain
so many people through so many
generations. The pins, metaphors
of life, and the ball, swirling
images, smash into each other
to create poetry. How easily things
glide on wax oiled floors! The slow
hum of the ball against wood grain
then the sudden smash of pins
startles the senses. Perhaps
the anticipation, the ball
released from hand, forms
a spiritual bond of letting go.
That life courses the route
unpredictably as we attempt
to guide ourselves to perfect
strikes. Forget gutter balls
as the next frame enters
the lengthy hallway to the reset
pins.
15:01
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Day fifty-one
"Wish you were here" it says
on the front. I'm sitting at a table
overlooking the shopping center, people
watching.The autumn air's finally arrived
and humidity lay sleeping further south.
The sun sets and the paint on the sky
reminds me of an early Monet. Your voice
travels hundreds of miles through satellite
cell phone signals to reach my ear. It brings
a steady stillness to my life. And I realize
I love you. Not through Eros nor Storge, but
something that transcends mere friendship
or Phileo. My love for you is Agape, because
at one point in our past lives we shared
the same Soul and we are fragments
of the same being-- Reborn throughout space
and time, always in search for one another
in different forms.
17:52
Ummm embarrassing, but true? yes.
Day fifty
2 Corinthians 4:18 (NIV Bible)
Things Unseen
Always the dichotomy, religion
and science. Let's imagine for a minute
like those famous Lennon lines
that science and religion were the same.
That the Big Bang was the same phrase
as Let there be light.
That the six days in the Bible
mere metaphors for an age and time
when people had no concept of the world
outside of Earth. That the six days represented
the sum of around 13 billion years. Lets
Imagine for a minute that Science
was the language of God and the Bible
the poetry. That things left unseen
were mysteries created to be solved
not by mere prayers, but by method
and experimentation. After all,
aren't we God's grand experiment,
to cure his holy loneliness?
20:20
I have no idea where I was going with this...
Monday, September 27, 2010
Day forty-nine
Western:
John still felt the heavy vibration from h is left hand after he fired the pistol. It was the first time he had ever shot a gun and he was hoping it would be his last. His hand shook as he tried to re-holster his gun. Not many in his generations were south paws.
Horror:
I asked to be handcuffed, but the police cited regulation and shoved me in a cell in the corner of the jail. The problem was "it" was still out there and as long as I was alone, we would be safe.
Fantasy:
Hemlock laughed as the human tried to lift his ax. Dwarves, much stouter than men, have large muscular arms built from years of working in underground mines. All Dwarves are practically given pick axes as soon as they leave their mother's womb.
Suspense:
His eyes are blurred behind frosted glass as he feels the pulse of the girl he's about to strangle. They had just slept together and she felt too relaxed to see the glaze in his eyes. The fangs of his thumbs dig deep and at once she is startled, thrashing like a pigeon held up by a single leg.
Memoir:
I was only 4 years old when I left the country I was born in. I remember almost every detail. My mother cried all day, her eyes red and bleary. My father purchased a car from a gas station for only $200. The black bucket had leather seats with holes in them and no seat belts in the back. It was cheaper than hiring a taxi to get from Pusan to Seoul, where the airport awaited us. The year is 1987 and South Korea was in celebration and parades were abundant with a life sized Hodori (The South Korean mascot, a Korean tiger, giving hugs to every child.
30:45
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Day forty-eight
Everything is perfect
as clear as a digital photograph,
all the memories in full HD.
The skies were sunny and the birds
sang joyful songs. The gray blur
of thunderclouds in the distance
never show in post production. They
were always there, the static
cling always present. But I choose
to ignore. I relive each memory
in Technicolor brights. I forget
that in my dreams that everything's
black and white. The signs were all
there. The way she drifted away,
like an iceberg slowly breaking off
from a glacial sheet. I chose not
to see the disconnection. Tried to fit
a square peg into a round hole. It wasn't
fair for her. My eyes narrowed
and nothing beyond the scope of her
existed. Behind the camera I didn't
notice that she was just a small
part of a bigger whole. The landscape
of friends and missed opportunities
lay among the fringes.
15:42
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Day forty-seven
15 minish
Day forty-six
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Day forty-five
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Day forty-four
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Day forty-three
Monday, September 20, 2010
Day forty-two
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Day forty-one
For fucks sake... my blog is going to be banned for profanity.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Day forty
Day thirty-nine
To people who hold ancient
Friday, September 17, 2010
Day thirty-eight
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Day thirty-seven
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Day thirty-five
blue
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Day thirty-four
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Day thirty-three
Friday, September 10, 2010
Day thirty-two
Part of a larger project I'm working on with the TF
The formatting is off from the original again
Your shoulder feels stiff like a tree branch. Did I
hold you too tightly? Are you like dandelion seeds
ready to blow away at a mere whisper? I must
look like a fish to you as my mouth opens and closes
trying to find the right words to say. When you mention
the note I’m relieved. My brain says over and over again
“you got the message, you got the message!” I can feel
the adrenaline rush slowly end. Pieces of gravel stab
into my back, I can still feel my arms and legs. A good
sign. There’s a hot feeling on my left arm. The one
that’s not touching you. Someone smeared something
red across my forearm. I let you go. Dab my left arm
and realize that I’m bleeding. You look worried, about
to cry. I try my best to smile and say in a bad British
accent “It’s just a flesh wound”. Tad shakes his head
and frowns as he says “I called your mom, she’s coming
to pick you up”. I mutter “thanks”. The one thing I need
right now is you to see my crazy mother. “So you live
around here?” I ask. Your face turns from sadness
into anger faster than the chameleon’s tongue I saw
on a nature special, so quickly that I don’t have time
to react. Did I say something wrong? My body aches
as it finally realizes that I’ve been in a crash. Lightheaded,
I apologize. Try to smile as I wince at the pain. It felt
as though I was body slammed by my favorite wrestler.
A hear a car coming and honking. I close my eyes. My
mother has arrived.
21:27
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Day thirty-one
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Day thirty
15:15
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Day twenty-nine
Monday, September 6, 2010
Day twenty-eight
17:41