There is no recovering. There is only rebuilding.

I am bitter. I am also taking in signs. I have always been a person of inconsequential markers. I have always been someone that reconciles with the future by admitting to loneliness. What can I do anyway? Just move on. Move on without remorse for home, family or friends.

People are only there to return to.

Two strikes.
Two bunts.
Fly ball?

trash.E

Always a fine line.
Timely dashes.
Slowed retreats.
Weighing smokes.
Fluttering flames.

Lines worth walking.

rain purse

Hello friend,

Thanks for the pipe tobacco. It was a hard cigarette but a cheating burn. The wind's picking up and people are scurrying in line. (Ants on a scent trail for dry land.) The other one is coming. Newports? I'll ask later, those are expensive. Sitting and smoking. News of death. Sight of suede soliloquy. Looking over and I think I see him. Head turning back, eyes scanning, I thought I saw you. A purse?

The clouds have arrived. Last entrance! Missing piece! Thankfully I'm done... not sure I'll smoke those anytime soon (e.g. in a couple hours). The wind's howling, scouring with abrasive dirt and slap-happy leaves.

My last step was stolen by the wind. I fell forward just a little faster, found balance in a queer manner. Hushed inside by the audience's anticipatory whispers. Greeted by the muffled clap of thunder and all the uproarious clamor.

Love,

The World

defn: ethereal

I was cooking yesterday. Potatoes and mushrooms, eggplant and tofu. Lots of seasonings. Garlic! -lightly limed and goat-buttery roasted corn. I was drinking while cooking too, and prompted with something (an inquiry if I recall).

As is wont of most conversations: a definition. Seeking a quick-running, lime-rhymed ideal. Losing thought to the predicated transition. Sip and turn, finding mental hazards to fill the lost hustling of knives and pans.

"What does ethereal mean?"

Then a lapse. Many. Forgetting and cooking. Hustling back in front of counters and carefully corralling my desired flavors' cantankerous natures. It ended abruptly, I yearned again. For you. Let me hold you again. Let me that I may give you form. Another desire that comes and goes with a days pendulous pondering.

flick.flick

I have it! Ethereal is the transitory, indelible etchings upon the mind's yearning organs. It is the memory of breath reached during the first toughed-out morning of a long drawn drive. When you've raced against the sun and caught it at its game, remembering that for the next night, you will relinquish the lead. Ethereal is taking in the dew, the mist and humidity. Ethereal is being caught in the cold ground-hugging clouds of open fields. It is being faced by the proposition of mind: that the passing hours which whisked the chilling combines into the day's warm iridescence, are all that have ever been.

topicl tunage

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xsF9fHdAfo

fixit

I need to see things. Dawes Arboretum. Creeks. Canoes. Trees, grass. Faces, laughs.

Does It Offend You, Yeah? - Dawn of the Dead
" - Being Bad Feel Pretty Good

Need more music like this.

Theme of the week:

disrespect

ON HARP

welcome! tonight it is free-styling with don harper. ignore the pen and paper! remember the dark sights, oh the wondrous tantrum inducing and amnesiasical forgetfulness! quiet sounds with subdued lyrics unintelligible to my ears and mind escape thoughts and lips otherwise willing to articulate the most embodied of memories.

with effort? what do we try? escaping my memories with my bourbon, water, cigarettes, and purple-rimmed sunflowers. blue shades and orange fading haunt my behind with memories of spankings and abandonment! i'm SCREAMING.

Missing Things now and a most easy to forget song of poetry lost in inspiration and ignorant of our breathing ends.

hah.

i'm laughing you know. because i don't want to forget the worth of words. the weight of our thoughts that are transcribed in earnest or some forced excretion, a mental movement of supposed empathy through which we express the most dire of all experiences.

instead!! oh instead, a craziness, a crazitude. something laudible but laughable. something that lacks an all-discerning conscience while maintaining the bloodiest, the goriest of our abilities to experience. in ignorance of biology do we stand, and helpless to physics are we formed, but on the most naive sense of consequence do we move forward through the grand poetry of formative years, months, days, and times.

another song comes near to an end. this time the story of Methodism in Middle America. a place i feel privileged to share history with, a moment in time, of breadth of years, with whom my actions lend inert gas, eukaroytic solemnity.

but As Serious As Your Life may be...

i can not share this rhythm. language has escaped me and truly it has not been a witnessed element while convening with the lives in this society i share. insanity plagues and is plaguing, is tempting and has tempted, is now and will become. has'b'n.

f'r'gt th' vaughels.

*wel*well

well well.

Empirical Chords

A pair of events have caused an up-swelling of thought. I have once invested time into exploring these emotional avenues and find with my of-coming age and new roots that I am less stricken by an expected harmony. Complacency has begun to trickle in and left me from eye to brow with eroding, saddening furrows.

Things have become less about why for me. Of course I am still occupied with those concerns, but a tectonic shift has begun with which I am concerned more by the absolutes that we share. Suppose that I have moved and taken new footing on an empirical stage whilst my cigarette smoking flares to applaud my self-promotion. A transition-- attack so sudden, more so than any of the news that has (thus far this week) ambushed me.

But there is a growing constant, more weighty because of its timing than ability to perpetuate. The janitorial staff in my building, especially the young African American who has just received word of a new son, and Robert, the meth-tooth'd man from Colorado who is clearly not straight in the head.

They ramble, they laugh. They unabashedly take root from our perches in secluded fumigation. We say hi and wave, and we share ours news for its own sake. /Its own sake./

That more than our constant barrage of decisions gets me by. No matter what, being placed in this building and doing research for one summer has left me with a few indelible memories. Most anchoring of them all will be the sun rising through the circular array in Biosci's foray. Most heart-warming of them all will be the short bits of conversation and the long chains of cigarettes shared by my beige brethren.

I want to look up at your window. Oh I want to go home to protect all of you. But you are living with decisions you have made and will have to make. I have to give you space, for my own dignity-- dignity that's invested in the independent, Brownian motion of our lives.

I once held to two simple words: Chin up. -Olga
I have imparted and begun to espouse two new ones: Be well. -Me

tact

and how i've estranged so many

grad school

two books past some meetings angst and a lot of panic later and the only difference i can see is the planting of commitment and dedication to one's trade. let me try this out.

must have change

lampreys scream easy forgetting frames of conditional stirrers

(have to improve.
want to find that inner scent.)

inspired by a greasy hair day
(i love how it smells)

i'm aging

it's pretty sad when you go through others' lives and think "you know, i used to have that" and whether or not you did you begin to think that a reinvention may just be in order. words and subtexts that lack an apparent context are fine and free but when the thoughts of a life come trickling through natural sights and far-end noises you have to wonder where that subtle difference lies.

and for goodness sake, why do i feel like i have to chase things?

incoherent

my am was thoughtful
bookmarks, that's all these posts are

don't mind the clutter

http://walee.com/indexv2.html

dress to impress

lost arguments. private thoughts.
enormous energies invested into troughs draining me (lost) through arguments
of them: on passing abysmal atria culminating are my (private) thoughts

stress to impress

the lonesome hunt

among all the emotions i have felt today. one stood out. an immense admonition swelled. sordidly and soundly. with a warmth that briefly rewarded my return home. a quick walk. resting with a walking. with memories i found suited to one other being. the triumphs -- and all mistakes from here-on. held along. in part. comforts formed into the cold. precipitating crystals that displaced solvent for splendor. drawn in for a hunt. complacent. knowledge rising.

another cold lapse. tripe lesser, feeding all the hasty letters to consider others before me. my projection, my false idol. pulling for the time that with the loss of a companion. ushers in growth. a roaming enigma...

chickan

http://www.fooducate.com/blog/2009/08/03/guess-whats-in-the-picture-foodlike-substance/

kyle moved

on-placing, non-paced memories
gone and going lands afar
times change(d)

food for thought

"In their consequences they differ precisely in this way: ethnic coexistences condition a mutual repulsion and disdain but allow each ethnic community to consider its own honor as the highest one; the caste structure brings about a social subordination and an acknowledgment of "more honor" in favor of the privileged caste and status groups."
-Max Weber, "Class, Status, Party"

earth smells wet

http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0110/31786.html

new coffee stop

http://www.cafebrioso.com

Just checked it out this morning. It's excellent. Get a scone! Perfect blend of external and internal textures (none of that cupcake mix + extra flour crap). Espressos aren't served unless the barista's satisfied with the product. Beans roasted in house- all foods from scratch.


Definitely going to be a regular stop for me.

nuff satisfaction

souls of mischief