Thursday, August 31, 2006

“The world is a collage”This is a poempaintingwordperformancepiece.All of the following words describe scenes. All of these scenes contain signs. The signs may not obvious, but they are there. In some cases, there may be a large number of signs, in which case, all are to be included. The colors of the signs, the numbers on the signs and the text and language of the signs are to be emotionally and chaotically combined on one huge imaginary and ever-present canvas, a painting dedicated to Arlene Schloss. The signs exist in the following situations:Nurses talking near hospitals before they begin work on autumn days when the moon is full, mailmen who drink canned coffee by themselves, retirement age janitors at the Louvre looking over new tools, miners in dangerous elevators, mechanics with legs sticking out from underneath cars with oily radios pouring out 20 year old music in the background, people with hangovers standing near open graves, hippos that go into the ocean, gardeners driving to buy trees with roots wrapped in burlap, people leaving yellow cabs in a hurry at night, an urban area full of people flying kites, parades in cold weather, parades in hot weather, soccer games, baseball games, mushroom hunters, tennis games, weavers of silk carpets, football practice, smugglers who do so to feed their children, archery ranges, barbecues for groups of people ranging from three to three thousand, streets being paved for the first time, clothes being hung to dry, hunters who do not drink when they are hunting, the tallest building in Manila, fishermen who drink but stay on shore, fireman, trappers who do so with respect, amusement park employees who have lost their keys, children who sleep in tents in their backyards, photographers stranded in Mozambique, moviemakers who sleep well, people who use handphones during meetings and housepainters who do a good job.
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Places where elephants are, shelves full of books about ferns, silver airplanes that seem like paralyzed flying birds, the happiest person in Uganda, red weather balloons, magazines launched in the ‘70s, instructions for assembling tents, Vietnamese tour guides, the cost breakdown for a satellite dish to be installed in Yugoslavia, ugly public sculptures, the Vatican, Domino Pizza, Mecca, the Holy Land, toothpaste factories, a place where a picnic table was accidentally burned, a barnyard, a waterfall, flocks of thin white birds, grey lines of highways, the only stuffed armadillo to be found in South Africa, lakes holding sailboats, a Paris metro ticket, canoes on rivers, the oceans slapping big ships, the most loved Swedish politician, the most elegant shoe store in Mumbai, fog eating a city, organic apple orchards, alphabets, Christmas tree farms, strip mined landscapes, desserts full of unwanted testing, an environmentally friendly golf course, a fireworks display watched by an Amish family in a bus station between Chicago and Kansas City, bonfires, the diets of djs, traffic accidents as a result of animals crossing highways, unemployed male prostitutes in Taipei, railroads used by bikers, places that serve take out prata, housing subdivisions, the Empire State Building, the Pyramids, the shopping list of newlyweds in Bowling Green, Ohio, the first Chinese cookbook in Peru, the Tokyo Dome, a kindergarten in Bonn, the most depressing high school in Teaneck New Jersey, the harbor of Rio de Janiero during an eclipse, the Great Wall of China being discused by mathematicians, Red Squarebeing discussed by visiting Irish tourists, Kmarts in Canada, driving schools, elephant orphanages, missile testing ranges, forest fires, a Gutamelan dentist’s office, power plants in Minsk, black boxes of intergalactic spacecraft, Kyoto florists located within the train station, the insects which live in the main Xian post office, the humidity within the Sydney Opera House, the deli on the corner, New Orleans classical musicians, Microsoft paper useage files, cloud seeding programs, glider competitions in Norway, ancient light houses, beaches where there are no beach towels, umbrellas on Avenue A, Coney Island, the dreams of a Singaporean civil servant, a painting of the the Great Lakes hanging in a Green Bay bar, the video collection to be found on a typical North Sea oil rig, the Rocky Mountains, the garage of the grandson of Dali’s least favorite barber, the Amazon, the Urals, the Andes, the Great Rock, Mt. Fuji, the Pyrennees, Ireland, India, Idaho, Inokashira, Iran, Iraq, Iowa, people on horses, goats in trees, the Statue of Liberty, every bridge in the world, every phone line in the world, every bit of dust on Broome Street, every modem, every email ever written in Spanish and the oceans.

Saturday, August 19, 2006

May it be an evening star
Shines down upon you
May it be when darkness falls
Your heart will be true
You walk a lonely road
Oh! How far you are from home

Chorus:
Mornië utúlië (Translation: Darkness has come)
Believe and you will find your way
Mornië alantië (Translation: Darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now

May it be the shadow's call
Will fly away
May it be you journey on
To light the day
When the night is overcome
You may rise to find the sun

Chorus:
Mornië utúlië (Translation: Darkness has come)
Believe and you will find your way
Mornië alantië (Translation: Darkness has fallen)
A promise lives within you now

stay strong everyone!
after all, once you hit rock bottom the only way you can go is up yeah?

Friday, August 18, 2006

something that's supposed to be random

And now I can feel the day coming
the day of farewells and goodbyes
inside I seem to lie to myself
and tell myself not to cry


The day that seemed so far off before
is now no longer so
it seems the day came too quickly
the day I have to go


And as I think about the past
the memories flood back
a shower of emotions
the future seems so black


A little smile, a little while
the day we all first met
treasuring moments so carefully
trying not to be upset


And now I try to end this poem
but find I cannot do so
perhaps this poem is meant to go on

what to do what to say what to think what to pray

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

random

hm i was just thinking how anything that ever goes here is simply homework posts and stuff. so i'm now going to post something totally random and simply unrelated. no flames please.

lalala i want there to be a writing carnival in school for people to post their works and for others to review.

oh and very oddly and totally random, hans christian anderson is gay. as in it's kinda grotesque and sick to imagine a totally gay guy could write so many delicately exquisite faiytales. but they have a rather gruesome twist in the end for some of them so i guess it fits. still weird.

haha was reading this fairytale. about a little shepherdess doll and a chimney sweep who loved each other and who ran away into the outside world. and the gal was so scared of how awesome and big and unexplored the world was, that she ran right back inside again. lalala stupid. the world is big for a reason. if not everyhing would get utterly boring.

for a sense of utter goth and god reading. try sylvia plath. haha if i posted lady lazarus i bet some people would start thinking i was deranged. it's possible to love the dark. oh and sylvia plath committed suicide. by sticking her head into an oven. lalala still appreciate her morbid genius like a wry death-rictus.

Mirror
I am silver and exact.
I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see, I swallow immediately.
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike
I am not cruel, only truthful –
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me.
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully
She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.
I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.