twelve words to succinctly describe so many in our generation who do exactly what everyone else deems appropriate, mainly graduate, marry, move, procreate.
"we closed our minds, we shut our traps / we built a house, the house collapsed"
-when we were alive, the thermals
3.17.2009
3.08.2009
3.03.2009
fiddle lesson
zack: the rolls are mainly accomplished through the swooping bow and a strong rhythm of the ornament. swooping and good rhythm.
me: so many things require swooping and good rhythm.
zack: yes, a little metaphor for life.
me: so many things require swooping and good rhythm.
zack: yes, a little metaphor for life.
2.28.2009
casual friday
despite going out thursday night, i awoke friday ready to take on the last day of the work-week. standing in front of the closet, i wondered what to wear on "casual friday." by any other company's standards, the ALA is casual monday - thursday, and on friday the dress code just sighs, "i give up." i'm suspicious that one coworker comes into work in whatever he fell asleep in, which might also explain the musty smell wafting out of his office...
regardless, i was energized, i was dressed [down], and i was early. as i shut the door behind me, i took a moment to peer in the window, curious as to what matilda-the-feral-maniac first decides to destroy when i leave each morning. instead, i saw her yellow eyes staring back at me as she sat in the window sill. i flashed back to kansas, walking off to elementary school, looking back to see phil [the best dog ever] sitting in the front window, watching me walk away. i smiled, waved goodbye to matilda, and made to put in my headphones.
a shot of pain in my lower back, i'm looking at the sky, my flailing hand's ripping away from the banister, another slap across my should blades, six more stairs, a hard landing on the concrete, and what the FUCK was that?! it is then that i realize i've fallen down the front steps. i slowly stand up and gather my discombobulated ipod. pretending as if nothing is out of the ordinary--why, yes, that's always how i make my morning exit--i concentrate very hard on wrapping the extra length of headphones around the ipod, mentally assessing the damage. it's hard to breath deep. can you feel internal bleeding? doesn't matter, my hand is bleeding. rather than navigate those fucking stairs again to clean myself up, i find a receipt in my bag, slap it over my bloody thumb, pull on my mitten, and march off to the el.
i was lucky enough to get a seat on the train and spent the ride wondering about my toughness. i gave myself the following ratings.
toughness of spirit: A-
toughness of mind: A
toughness of body: B-
toughness of ego (when prepared for criticism): A
toughness of ego (when unprepared for criticism): D
after settling on that, my mind wandered to thoughts of survival. imagining myself forced into certain situations, i again rated myself on my likelihood of surviving.
soldier in civil war: 62%
soldier in WWII foxhole: 74%
sinking ship in shark-infested waters: 28%
homeless in chicago: 83%
trapeze artist in circus: 3%
coming home from work, all the ice had melted off the stairs, and matilda was perched on the sill shaking her head, don't pretend. i saw you fall this morning and you looked pretty stupid. on a scale of 1 to 10, i rate your grace a 0, your poise a 3, your dignity an 8, and your resourcefulness a 9. now feed me, i'm hungry.
regardless, i was energized, i was dressed [down], and i was early. as i shut the door behind me, i took a moment to peer in the window, curious as to what matilda-the-feral-maniac first decides to destroy when i leave each morning. instead, i saw her yellow eyes staring back at me as she sat in the window sill. i flashed back to kansas, walking off to elementary school, looking back to see phil [the best dog ever] sitting in the front window, watching me walk away. i smiled, waved goodbye to matilda, and made to put in my headphones.
a shot of pain in my lower back, i'm looking at the sky, my flailing hand's ripping away from the banister, another slap across my should blades, six more stairs, a hard landing on the concrete, and what the FUCK was that?! it is then that i realize i've fallen down the front steps. i slowly stand up and gather my discombobulated ipod. pretending as if nothing is out of the ordinary--why, yes, that's always how i make my morning exit--i concentrate very hard on wrapping the extra length of headphones around the ipod, mentally assessing the damage. it's hard to breath deep. can you feel internal bleeding? doesn't matter, my hand is bleeding. rather than navigate those fucking stairs again to clean myself up, i find a receipt in my bag, slap it over my bloody thumb, pull on my mitten, and march off to the el.
i was lucky enough to get a seat on the train and spent the ride wondering about my toughness. i gave myself the following ratings.
toughness of spirit: A-
toughness of mind: A
toughness of body: B-
toughness of ego (when prepared for criticism): A
toughness of ego (when unprepared for criticism): D
after settling on that, my mind wandered to thoughts of survival. imagining myself forced into certain situations, i again rated myself on my likelihood of surviving.
soldier in civil war: 62%
soldier in WWII foxhole: 74%
sinking ship in shark-infested waters: 28%
homeless in chicago: 83%
trapeze artist in circus: 3%
coming home from work, all the ice had melted off the stairs, and matilda was perched on the sill shaking her head, don't pretend. i saw you fall this morning and you looked pretty stupid. on a scale of 1 to 10, i rate your grace a 0, your poise a 3, your dignity an 8, and your resourcefulness a 9. now feed me, i'm hungry.
2.25.2009
if we just keep on talking
used the night as a cover to notice what typically got missed. the glass church windows sparked like a million tiny fires when the streelights bleed through. got home from the job and worked out my drunkness.
the steam poured out of a bricked up pipe like music from a trumpet, to fan and disperse. crept up on a woman, watched her rearrange her purse and clutch at her car keys. heard her sigh of relief upon realizing the shadow was smaller and whiter.
there is the frustration in it, yes. but it is more the empathy that stings. the "so close and -- yet -- so far away."
the muscles that tensed when those words were spoken clenched again, and because we hold such hard associations you know it's the jaw. if only we knew all the things we needed to know.
and the light still flickers
and the fridge still hums
and the night still beckons
and i walk on
the steam poured out of a bricked up pipe like music from a trumpet, to fan and disperse. crept up on a woman, watched her rearrange her purse and clutch at her car keys. heard her sigh of relief upon realizing the shadow was smaller and whiter.
there is the frustration in it, yes. but it is more the empathy that stings. the "so close and -- yet -- so far away."
the muscles that tensed when those words were spoken clenched again, and because we hold such hard associations you know it's the jaw. if only we knew all the things we needed to know.
and the light still flickers
and the fridge still hums
and the night still beckons
and i walk on
2.16.2009
an urban version
the red wheelbarrow
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
-williams carlos williams
2.14.2009
oh, irony
Word of the Day for Saturday, February 14, 2009
myopia \mahy-OH-pee-uh\, noun:
1. an abnormal eye condition in which only closeup objects are seen clearly; nearsightedness
2. shortsightedness; lack of foresight
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