| (no subject) |
[Aug. 17th, 2006|10:35 am] |
i wrote some poems last night
i hope you like them
Older
When i am 30,
the world will beckon me
just like that invitation i recieved from a brick wall
did.
with open, immobile arms,
it will long for my acceptance.
-my acknowledgement.
i will look into its deep blue eyes and say:
here you me! no temptation shall distract me!
no foolish freedom dare detain the life i plan to lead
from availing itself to me!
in all seriousness,
i am kidding myself.
The symphony
As musicians tune their instruments
so i yawn from a night of unsteady composure.
the audience seats themselves
a small venue
- dedicated patrons.
the lights dim
the show erupts.
scores upon scores.
pages turning so fast the notes fall off.
so singular, insignificant, yet surrendering whats left of themselves to the greater whole.
the number progresses
some make err
and yet -
in cognito amongst the surrounding sounds
(in the attention span of the audience)
the performance was flawless.
between pieces the musicians muse.
notes to self recounted.
flaws marked.
successes credited.
tallies. pencilled. erased.
the music relapses.
patterms of flawless formulas
glide without friction
without a physical context
- just instinct.
the sound - detestable.
the tune - grotesque.
the quality - superb.
the music - supreme. |
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| (no subject) |
[Aug. 1st, 2006|11:54 pm] |
i'm going into hiding.
no AIM.
yes reading.
yes painting.
yes outdoors.
(yes email.)
yes lj.
less computadora.
i need to do the things i havent been....keep promises to myself.
i think thats an area im slacking in. promises to myself. and its eating away at my inside. like tapeworm. mmm. tapeworm.
ill finish the books.
ill finish the felt poster.
ill work on my site.
make the panim collage.
get prints of those pics from costco.
kinkos.
staples.
eat more fruit.
eat less bread.
mmm. bread. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 27th, 2006|04:13 pm] |
god dammit lj i just..waah...want to tell you everything, but i refuse to right now, but i willl, soon
but for now
"goodnight paper moon
There's no such thing as bad luck, just good stories -=- people have been asking me, which two books i would bring with me if i were trapped on a desert island. well, the first would be a giant inflatable book, the second would be a book about how to make oars out of sand. -=- ^^^*^^*^/8panda squeeze8\^*^^*^^^
get it, they're like panda hands...and also, I don't know what the fuck I just. -=- my name is jonas, im carrying the wind -=- slaekhir: and suzi's phlegm
"
le'sigh. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jul. 9th, 2006|04:06 pm] |
we went to the beach. i cant explain what happened quite well enough. it was foggy. and dark. i couldnt tell where the sand stopped and the ocean began. or where the ocean stopped and the sky began. it was a pure abyss. a soothing sort of visual vaccuum that had the capacity to swallow you up if you didn't blink often enough. i started walking towards it. finally the sand was wet beneath my feet. i saw a bunch of silly birds skipping, and then i saw the water. its strange, how usually you see that water as it is reflected by the moon. but the moon was somewhere else in the sky. so the water was on its own in the way of being seen. and i didnt even have to see it. i could feel it racing towards me, and away, and towards again.
when i joined the others they had gathered around a bonfire with some strangers. but really these were all strangers to me. the 4 newest strangers were having their own liquor fest. sauza and orange juice. i sat down and complimented them on their successful little firepit. and they told me that they didnt build it. that it was just there. beckoning them. and it did us as well. we were all silent for a bit. one of yummy's friends suggested we go around and each share something we love, lost, and fear. it didnt have to be profound. a few people shared, and we just started talking from there. like, soul-bearing as a conversation piece, you know? i dont remember what we talked about. but i just remember an overwhelming feeling of wholeness. sitting there with these complete strangers, sharing the basic human desire to be listened to. it really was a vaccuum. and i have never felt less alone in my entire life. suddenly one of yummy's friends starting poking something with a stick. a few seconds later we realized it was a dead bird. right there. next to the fire. it was like, G_d proving that we weren't alone, you know? maybe sometimes you just have to poke at things to realize that there is more to life than our own, or even the act of living. it was strange, noticing the bird. because at first you think, wait, theres another creature here with us. and even though you know its dead, you're aware of its presence.
there is a very great chance that i am completely full of bullshit. that all these wonderful connections i'm making, loneliness, dead birds, the ocean abyss, they're all just real, boring things that were being thought about in my head at the same time. but even so, even if i'm making annoying philosophical comments about everything that happens, as if it were something special [which they are], even if they really don't matter.....hot damn. i love it. so much.
Make The World Your Oyster |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 30th, 2006|02:29 pm] |
everything is so....Romantic right now. not lovey....capital R. glorious. exciting. new.
i'm going places. discovering things.
had a really good talk with my grandma.
might go on panim for ridiculously cheap.
might go to san fran to visit yummy/ talk to rabbi about going to russia (finally getting THAT ball rolling)
might go out tomorrow with ryan's friends from work. cool folk.
found my cell phone. thought i lost my keys. they were wrapped up in my dance clothes. p.s. the phone was under my seat in the car. *duh* thx to steph and her keen eye.
choreographed to a little less conversation by elvis.. *hummanah*
actually, he was a bit too pretty for my liking.
hmm.
oh, and watched lock, stock, and 2 smoking barrels. quite similar to snatch. well, same director, many same actors. still cool though. the dvd has a 'cockney dictionary'. i might pick up cockey. teehee. cockney.
its odd how i get viciously hypercritical of people only when im around emyli. like, she vibes me into it. and i dont even think about it. and as soon as she walks away, it disappears. quite odd. i just want to say wait, no, im not like this....but that would do no good. well, if emyli thinks im an asshole, thats her prerogative. ooh, i just learned what that word meant a few days ago. i mean, i use it all the time, and my assumption was pretty close, but i too the time to look it up. smartXcore.
nitey nite, or something cute like that. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 22nd, 2006|02:22 pm] |
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"Fuck it! --yes, that's your answer! That's your answer to everything! Tattoo it on your forehead! Your revolution is over, Mr. Lebowski. Condolences, the bums lost. The bums will always lose! My advice to you is to do what your parents did: get a job, sir. The bums will always lose!'" |
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| Crapmobile |
[Jun. 17th, 2006|05:52 pm] |
ojoohohohohoh so i have a funny story:
go out to my car today.....shit. all over it. jesus. like, at least 10 birdy droppings. fat ones. all over.
i parked under the trees. <----mistake.
driving around with an insane amount of shit on your car is a weird feeling, threefold:
1) you feel like a big loser because, well cmon, its poo.
2) everyone knows bird poo-age is unavoidable so you cant really be embarrassed, and you hope that everyone thinks about it that way
3) you know people arent going to rationalize as much as you have--- more than once over in your head----ok, more than twice----- and all they see is this shit-mobile.....
ahaha. i couldnt help but laugh and be horribly self-car-conscious all the way over to my bros school, and then to the car wash.
the car wash was a waste. it didnt get some of the poos off. had to whip out the squeegee at home, and even then, i ended up with a towel and windex. geez. and now my back window is all smeary because the squeegee wasnt totally clean because it had some poo on it.
oh cmon, you wanted to know how my day went. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 9th, 2006|11:03 am] |
recipe for success:
~1 fatty fat bag of peanut butter m&m's
~2 cans R0ckstar Energy Drink
~a whole lotta self-amusement
~2-3 pink floyd albums
~a stupid assignment that you could do well on if you could choose the thesis, but that fact alone makes you feel smart anyways and thats the point, right?
~a tendency to rationalize anything that pops into your head after 1 am
maybe i'll go for a jog when this is all over. maybe ill come home and sleep during dance. maybe........mmmm. peanut butter m&m's. *glee* |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 29th, 2006|05:02 pm] |
Are you such a dreamer ?
To put the world to rise ?
I'll stay home forever
Where two & two always makes up five
I'll lay down the tracks
Sandbag & hide
January has April's showers
And two & two always makes up five
It's the devil's way now
There is no way out
You can scream & you can shout
It is too late now
because
You have not been
paying attention
paying attention
paying attention
paying attention
You have not been
paying attention
paying attention
paying attention
paying attention
You have not been
paying attention
paying attention
paying attention
paying attention
You have not been
paying attention
paying attention
paying attention
paying attention
I try to sing along
I get it all wrong
cos i'm not
cos i'm not
I swat em like flies but
Like flies the buggers
Keep coming back
Not
Maybe not
"All hail to the thief"
"All hail to the thief"
But I'm not
But I'm not
But I'm not
But I'm not
"Don't question my authority
or put me in the dock "
Cos I'm not
Cos I'm not
Go & tell the king that
The sky is falling in
When it's not
When it's not
When it's not
Maybe not
Maybe not |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 22nd, 2006|02:39 pm] |
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i wish i could talk about more profound things with my friends. especially emyli. i want to know what she things about. but our conversations rarely go beyond 'THE WORLD IS SHIT.' which makes me sad. because the world isnt shit. and all i want is to sit down at lunch for ONCE and talk about something meaningful, instead of bitching about our lives, or making asses out of ourselves, or pointing out how stupid other people are. but no one wants to do that with me. intellectualism is dead! i mourn thee. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 19th, 2006|09:46 am] |
I just remembered, that time at the market
snuck up behind me and jumped on my shopping cart
And rode down, aisle 5
you looked behind you to smile back at me
crashed into a rack full of magazines
they asked us if we could leave.
Can't remember, what went wrong last September
But I'm sure that you'd remind me, if you had to
Our love was, comfortable and
so broken in. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 14th, 2006|09:44 am] |
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success is relative. |
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