December 23

She is the poetry in motion,
As the motion doth cease,
And sets down her burden,
For a moment at least.

Nothing I can write about

These Days [Nico]

I have many, many things to write about.
But I can't write about any of them, here.

Artistic Hiatus

I haven't posted anything in a while..
I'm going to say that I've been on an artistic hiatus this whole time.

I actually wrote a bunch of stuff/crap, but it's too stuffy/crappy to be posted.

This post is part of the stuffy/crappy category, too.

Concerns

We never argue
Except for when we do
But aside from those times
We never argue

Craters

at least not the both of us,
something whispers to the earth,
 one of us could exist.
So Everest repeats:
now that I'm away from you,
(oh, I forgot to ask
how is orbit?)
and thinking more freely...

and

I like the fullness of space,
grand-canyon-star did assert,
who cares if I'm cold?
but the moon doth persist:
come to bed, it might be warm,
I have new pillows,
fresh linen sheets.
some stars on my ceiling.

Difficult

Writing is difficult when I'm really happy.

Not rays. Not beams.

Band of shadow,
bands of sun,
bend like wrists,

like time,

like night,
make lists.

December 23: time can't actually bend, night can though.

Monday on Monday

Monday is an important day for me.

Monday on Monday so far away,

 can't we have Monday on Saturday?

 Even Monday on Sunday would be fine with me,

 time flows onward, but never freely.

 Monday on Monday is too much,

Monday on Monday is never soon enough.

I need a camera, so when I need a "Monday" picture and flickr has a notable dearth of suitable "Monday" pictures, I can capture a suitable "Monday" picture. 

afterthought, December 10: this "Monday on Monday" concept seems pretty legitimate, I hope I'm not experiencing cryptomnesia.

Indecison

Questions

If I'm not supposed to over-analyze things, what am I supposed to do?
My brother says I moved his basketball, but I didn't. Who did?
Is it the same entity that "steals my shoes!" in the morning before school?

I'd like to take all of my impulses and put them in a sack with two cinder-blocks and throw them in the river, but if I did that, what would be left of me?

The future

The future, probably 

That's right, the future is here.

I have now added the Google Newsfeed Gadget. It is set to provide you with information on weather conditions in my county, turtles, and plastic army men.
Plastic army men don't receive the news coverage that they used to, but the coverage they do receive is pretty good.

Michael and the Magic Blog: For all your turtle, plastic army men, and (my) local weather needs!

In General

Most people are like most people.

This makes me intensely happy. Almost painfully so. 

Actually, everything is making me intensely happy today. 

This awesome thing, which is completely safe for work, your home, and your kids, made me happier than almost anything. The only thing that didn't make me happy was a certain college class.

Today, I realized that my Political Science class is very boring, so boring, in fact, that I force myself to go everyday as penance for any horrible act I might commit in the far-away future. I imagine, that if I do commit some horrible act in the distant, distant future, that my transcript will save me from jail time. I've written a short film based on this concept, it would also work as a novel, epic poem, biography, cook book, ode, but probably not as an haiku.

Human brain, lateral view

 

I like the way that, on a blog, if you click an entry, and go to that entry's page, you can still click the entry's title link.


I spent five minutes clicking and re-clicking (and re-re-clicking, again) the title link on some stranger's blog (once again, a lie, it was my own blog, but if I say a stranger's blog, it shows that I look at other people's blogs too, rather than just looking at the few posts I have, over and over again, but I do look at other people's blogs, I promise) and with every click I expected something new, or at the very least, would have been happy if something new (read: interesting) came up.


And then (right now, actually), I had this thought that felt like "and clicking that link made you worry about perception and color." But it didn't really, there was no reason for it to, but the thought was implanted in my head, for no reason at all. So, for better or worse, now I'm worrying about perception.

I'd like for you to be a crazy person. - My Mind

I looked around on Flickr for a nice picture of a brain, but none of them were very sinister. Just imagine that the brain in the picture has dirty fingernails. Dirty fingernails are sinister, right? 

Your Brain on Life by EUSKALANATO

September 26th: I realized that "Your Brain on Life" is an awesome phrase and wanted to clear up any potential confusion. Anyway, my phrase, not my picture though.

September 27th: My fingernails are dirty right now, but only because I've been doing honest work. I forgot to specify that the brain pictured above got it's fingernails dirty doing something other than honest work.

September 29th: "Your Brain of Life" is a phrase, in the sense that it's been used before, but everywhere I see it, it's used as a title for random self-help articles. All in all, it's used in ways that don't do justice do the phrase. Ahh. 

I can be pedantic, too

Julian Casablancas by NRK P3

I was walking to bus stop today listening to Automatic Stop by The Strokes and- ahh, this isn't interesting. The only interesting thing is that I wasn't really 'walking to the bus stop', I was in the kitchen listening to music.
People who ride the bus are generally more interesting than people who stand around in the kitchen, listening to decade-old songs. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if those people who stand around in kitchens are the same people who worry about their hyphen use.

He can be pedantic, he can be pedantic. -George Costanza.

Anyway, the whole point of this is that one of the lines in the song is "it's just a phase, it's got pass", but I always hear "life's just a phase, it's got to pass." And I think that that's super cool for some reason. Is this only interesting to me?

P.S. I wanted to write "hyphen use" as "hyphen-use" because the hyphen I was referring to was in the previous sentence, but it felt too obvious.

Picnic

I'd like to see you,
On a Saturday,
And write fourth rate poetry,
About how I'd like to see you.
On a Saturday.

I love punctuation.
I have 'feelings' about most elements of grammar and syntax, but punctuation has a special place in my heart.

Move a few commas and periods around in that little nothing I wrote and the whole meaning changes, changes from an honest confession to a hopeless romantic's pseudo-lament. So many possibilities.

Mykl Roventine

February 28th: When this was published, I didn't know anything about iambic trimeter, so everthing was in free verse, hmm.

Misnomers and...

I lied, there be no magic here. 

But wouldn't that be quaint? Magic, right here. On this very page. The closest thing here (so far) is a boy worrying about coming off as trying to sound smart and quaint while worrying about sounding smart and quaint. He is also worrying about whether the grammar and syntax in the previous sentence is sound, and, if it isn't; will the grammar-police arrive? No, they probably won't, but I sure hope that they do; it would mean that one more person sees this. I crave attention.


In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have placed the word 'magic' in the tile. Magic usually entails some kind of monkey's paw, crystal ball, or a dragon. 

Feb 28: Actuallly, a boy trying to sound smart and quaint isn't magical at all; there's no magic here.