i went to the gym today for the first time. it kind of sucked but i guess i can get used to it. the people were fine, it was the damn treadmill, i think it was trying to eject me or something. i sweated through my t-shirt and tried to stay hydrated...now i'm exhausted and am wishing the clothes would hang themselves up.
i'm hoping for a beautiful life someday.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
might as well JUMP!
(...go 'head and jump.)
i'm so lucky that this internet-land allows me to post a journally-newsy-poemy-complainy-type thing that stays around, and doesn't GO anywhere! holding a pen gives you a cramp, but this...there's nothing like it. and i wanna say "thank you" to um, whomever maintains this sort of thing for us non-linear thinkers who refuse to make time for, uh, "programming." (i barely passed C++ and feel a bit nostalgic for "GOTO 10" types of humor.)
thanks.
i raise my glass to you.
(not literally, right now. like, later on when i take a sip of something, such as water, cranberry raspberry apple juice that has gotten warm in my mother's car)
blogging has provided me with a reference for personal growth. (this is the brochure-part of things)
ok, it's over now. the brochure.
while a firm believer in adult ADD, i do not know how i would relay information to students-- that is, if i were a teacher, like i was supposed to be. that made no sense.
i mean, "capsules" of information...using more than one of the body's senses. like the ultimate art teacher's grim duty of reading the Vincent VanGogh story to a bunch of kindergarteners, who are probably smarter in every way than the teacher herself. WHAT did i do wrong? WHY didn't the kids care about the part where he sliced his ear off when i'd gone over that part of the book so many times with my co-op teacher..."SHOULD I??? SHOULDN'T I???! MENTAL ILLNESS?? FLOWERS???? DUDE WITH RED HAIR AND A BEARD??? WHAT MATTERS HERE? WHAT is the
CULTURAL YUM-YUM?"
yes, i failed out of student teaching. i'm not sure why this is coming up now.
somehow i think i i i i i i i iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii knew that iiiii'd never "pass." it's very easy to want to blame someone else. it was one of my many colorful and boring nervous-breakdowns.
anyway, i got the diploma. and things have changed since 2000, uh?
"The future's open wide..."
Emotions are part of learning, you primitive daumbasses. <----- ?
Seriously. We were never allowed recovery from humiliation in the classroom. Were we? Now were we?
(Wedontneeednoeducationwedontneednothoughtcontrol)
the only problem: i've been charged with 2 misdemeanors. not sure if i'm allowed near a school for seven years.
stay tuned, mofo's.
i'm so lucky that this internet-land allows me to post a journally-newsy-poemy-complainy-type thing that stays around, and doesn't GO anywhere! holding a pen gives you a cramp, but this...there's nothing like it. and i wanna say "thank you" to um, whomever maintains this sort of thing for us non-linear thinkers who refuse to make time for, uh, "programming." (i barely passed C++ and feel a bit nostalgic for "GOTO 10" types of humor.)
thanks.
i raise my glass to you.
(not literally, right now. like, later on when i take a sip of something, such as water, cranberry raspberry apple juice that has gotten warm in my mother's car)
blogging has provided me with a reference for personal growth. (this is the brochure-part of things)
ok, it's over now. the brochure.
while a firm believer in adult ADD, i do not know how i would relay information to students-- that is, if i were a teacher, like i was supposed to be. that made no sense.
i mean, "capsules" of information...using more than one of the body's senses. like the ultimate art teacher's grim duty of reading the Vincent VanGogh story to a bunch of kindergarteners, who are probably smarter in every way than the teacher herself. WHAT did i do wrong? WHY didn't the kids care about the part where he sliced his ear off when i'd gone over that part of the book so many times with my co-op teacher..."SHOULD I??? SHOULDN'T I???! MENTAL ILLNESS?? FLOWERS???? DUDE WITH RED HAIR AND A BEARD??? WHAT MATTERS HERE? WHAT is the
CULTURAL YUM-YUM?"
yes, i failed out of student teaching. i'm not sure why this is coming up now.
somehow i think i i i i i i i iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii knew that iiiii'd never "pass." it's very easy to want to blame someone else. it was one of my many colorful and boring nervous-breakdowns.
anyway, i got the diploma. and things have changed since 2000, uh?
"The future's open wide..."
Emotions are part of learning, you primitive daumbasses. <----- ?
Seriously. We were never allowed recovery from humiliation in the classroom. Were we? Now were we?
(Wedontneeednoeducationwedontneednothoughtcontrol)
the only problem: i've been charged with 2 misdemeanors. not sure if i'm allowed near a school for seven years.
stay tuned, mofo's.
Monday, April 06, 2009
red game
(this is a work in progress)
peetah czarina is sich agin
peetah czarina is sich, all in?
peeter.
lies in the canopy of stinking pinkish flurry
vines in time with the sinking moss-pits where the
deer would like to
tramp o'er czarina
tramp o'er czarina
tramp o'er her petal bones as she sneeeeeeezesss:
"a'hooo bless youuu."
II
"which one is this, they all seem to have problems,
the girls in this family have
strange-bearn' emblems"
-papa's concern is swampy at best
inside his gryphon's crest and dylan collection
well i enjoy these morphine dreams
just the same as they cleanse my
too-eager, too-ignorant, not-quite adolescent
brain.
what time could it be when it stinks in here of
honey and warm un-pasteurized milk from
who-even-cares?
peter and cyril and beryl and iryl
and nestor and hector and vicky-yoon
play this certain game involving
"funeral of the children"
no, mind the bees
one of those kids got stung when they smoked
from my retired pipe
who-even-cares; milk somebody.
milk something.
czarina's wasting away
and she's more beautiful every day
her bones are so beautiful
today
i'd love to
slide in there
sheets
during cracks
of intermittent fire
sirens
and she's safe
and her fire
is the hearth of starvation
peetah czarina is sich agin
peetah czarina is sich, all in?
peeter.
lies in the canopy of stinking pinkish flurry
vines in time with the sinking moss-pits where the
deer would like to
tramp o'er czarina
tramp o'er czarina
tramp o'er her petal bones as she sneeeeeeezesss:
"a'hooo bless youuu."
II
"which one is this, they all seem to have problems,
the girls in this family have
strange-bearn' emblems"
-papa's concern is swampy at best
inside his gryphon's crest and dylan collection
well i enjoy these morphine dreams
just the same as they cleanse my
too-eager, too-ignorant, not-quite adolescent
brain.
what time could it be when it stinks in here of
honey and warm un-pasteurized milk from
who-even-cares?
peter and cyril and beryl and iryl
and nestor and hector and vicky-yoon
play this certain game involving
"funeral of the children"
no, mind the bees
one of those kids got stung when they smoked
from my retired pipe
who-even-cares; milk somebody.
milk something.
czarina's wasting away
and she's more beautiful every day
her bones are so beautiful
today
i'd love to
slide in there
sheets
during cracks
of intermittent fire
sirens
and she's safe
and her fire
is the hearth of starvation
Sunday, April 05, 2009
is it ok to talk about depression?
come ON. i know the glass is half-full...i know this intellectually, but sometimes i just don't feel it.
blah.
.
.
.
blah.
.
.
.
Thursday, April 02, 2009
Starvation Stories (while I prep for the test)
Bud went a-walkin in the forest and met a bear.
Bud said, "Look at you. Too fat to fit inside my sports-car. Ha, ha, ha."
The bear just stared back blankly at Bud, slightly surprised at the little hairless hiker who was supposed to be the bear's prey.
The bear was fat; she weighed a ton or more.
It became the tundra, just then, and the now-white-haired bear was minding her own business with the penguins and the seals and all the other shit that thrived in the cold.
"A-HA!" exclaimed Bud, approaching the wary bear, who was having deja-vu in a bear manner. "I suppose you're in charge of things around here, huh? King of the Tundra? Ha, ha, ha."
The bear blinked slowly, peeling apart the scales on a fish she'd caught earlier. Too apathetic to correct Bud ("Queen" of the Tundra, rather than "King," hypothetically).
"Ridiculous bear." Bud set up camp. He'd paid a lot of money to go adventuring on this side of the world, as opposed to all the Drive-thru Safari's and theme parks. He'd paid a lot of money for his expensive parka and camping gear. He was an unofficial explorer and conqueror, doing his country's dirty work and loving it.
But (polar) bears know little of these Yertle-the-Turtle-type advancements. She went along with the fish deliberately with her sharp claws, and wondered why the little man found her so ridiculous.
"I didn't have to buy my fur
to survive here," grumbled the bear,
not making eye-contact.
"I'm here because I'm...here...and you have
stumbled upon me (again).
You probably believe your amazing journeys
are worth so much to man-kind;
but for all I care, you might as well
have gone to the Moon instead
and met some Moon-bears or something."
Bud eyed the bear; her fur would make a nice coat, or a sexy new rug for the little lady.
Bud was always lucky, and always happy, and usually smiling too.
"I killed a beast about your size, you know," said Bud to the bear. "Me and my brothers-in-arms shot and killed a buffalo in the middle of the night. We thought it were the enemy; turned out that in the morning, we found the dead buffalo. It was a female. It was pregnant. Me and my boys split its hide up and ate the insides."
The bear yawned.
"So...ha...do you see? Do you SEE the beast in my eyes???" implored Bud, feeling his most heroic.
The bear took a last bite of fish and dove into the water.
The otters and sea-lions and seals and walri (?) went about their yelping gossip and meals. The penguins padded their organizations through the snow banks.
Days went on. Bud got a fever, froze his ass off, realized he was going to die alone, and went insane.
He begged the bear to eat him.
Bud said, "Look at you. Too fat to fit inside my sports-car. Ha, ha, ha."
The bear just stared back blankly at Bud, slightly surprised at the little hairless hiker who was supposed to be the bear's prey.
The bear was fat; she weighed a ton or more.
It became the tundra, just then, and the now-white-haired bear was minding her own business with the penguins and the seals and all the other shit that thrived in the cold.
"A-HA!" exclaimed Bud, approaching the wary bear, who was having deja-vu in a bear manner. "I suppose you're in charge of things around here, huh? King of the Tundra? Ha, ha, ha."
The bear blinked slowly, peeling apart the scales on a fish she'd caught earlier. Too apathetic to correct Bud ("Queen" of the Tundra, rather than "King," hypothetically).
"Ridiculous bear." Bud set up camp. He'd paid a lot of money to go adventuring on this side of the world, as opposed to all the Drive-thru Safari's and theme parks. He'd paid a lot of money for his expensive parka and camping gear. He was an unofficial explorer and conqueror, doing his country's dirty work and loving it.
But (polar) bears know little of these Yertle-the-Turtle-type advancements. She went along with the fish deliberately with her sharp claws, and wondered why the little man found her so ridiculous.
"I didn't have to buy my fur
to survive here," grumbled the bear,
not making eye-contact.
"I'm here because I'm...here...and you have
stumbled upon me (again).
You probably believe your amazing journeys
are worth so much to man-kind;
but for all I care, you might as well
have gone to the Moon instead
and met some Moon-bears or something."
Bud eyed the bear; her fur would make a nice coat, or a sexy new rug for the little lady.
Bud was always lucky, and always happy, and usually smiling too.
"I killed a beast about your size, you know," said Bud to the bear. "Me and my brothers-in-arms shot and killed a buffalo in the middle of the night. We thought it were the enemy; turned out that in the morning, we found the dead buffalo. It was a female. It was pregnant. Me and my boys split its hide up and ate the insides."
The bear yawned.
"So...ha...do you see? Do you SEE the beast in my eyes???" implored Bud, feeling his most heroic.
The bear took a last bite of fish and dove into the water.
The otters and sea-lions and seals and walri (?) went about their yelping gossip and meals. The penguins padded their organizations through the snow banks.
Days went on. Bud got a fever, froze his ass off, realized he was going to die alone, and went insane.
He begged the bear to eat him.
judy/point: simple.
"It's getting to the point
where I'm no fun anymore,
I am sorry.
Sometimes it hurts so badly I must cry out loud,
I am lonely."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"They say the sea turns so dark that
You know it's time, you see the sign
They say the point demons guard is
An ocean grave, for all the brave,
Was it you that said, 'How long, how long,
How long to the point of know return?'"
where I'm no fun anymore,
I am sorry.
Sometimes it hurts so badly I must cry out loud,
I am lonely."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"They say the sea turns so dark that
You know it's time, you see the sign
They say the point demons guard is
An ocean grave, for all the brave,
Was it you that said, 'How long, how long,
How long to the point of know return?'"
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