Unfavorable Topography: 02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004

Sunday, February 29, 2004

Hmm...seizing to stop my continuous mind to flow is like creating a dam for the snow glaciers who try to push out the babies as they retreat into the farther reaches of snowfields. Samoas taste like misspelled words being miss spelled who won the beauty pageant at age three when pangaea was a continent for smokers only and smokers were the only ones allowed to eat, thus, unfortunately, everyone who didn't smoke, who didn't drink, who didn't succumb to the pleasures of women, were to be castrated, fed to the Dali-esque elephants and strewn about in long drawn out strips of plastic facial tissue in an all-out war of daydreams that turn into nightmares when your best friends turn evil and are tempted by the devil facing all sorts of challenges on two consecutive mountain peaks. But seriously, if you imagine your friends face to be contorted and evil in a sleep-like state except you are not asleep, you are awake, and you explain this to the person next to you it actually can be a scary thing to think about. Think about it! If you imagine your friends face to be contorted in a dream and evil in a sleep-like state except you are not asleep, you are awake, and you try to explain this to the person next to you it actually is quite the scary thing to think about.

Monday, February 23, 2004

EPITAPH ON A TYRANT

Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,
And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;
He knew human folly like the back of his hand,
And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;
When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,
And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

W. H. Auden (1907-1973)

Friday, February 20, 2004

Mmmm that was a pretty good sandwich.

So my desk is pretty cluttered right now, which is nothing really out of the ordinary because I've generally always kept clean rooms but not clean desks. Everything I acquire ends up on my left or right at some point and won't get moved for-like-ever. Tonight I'll try listing this ish off stream-of-consciousness-shopping-list-style...

ATM withdrawal receipts. Diploma request card (no!). Bottle of Clear Eyes. Coaster of Van Gogh's Starry Night. One band-aid which will most likely be placed on my left achilles tendon tomorrow morning. Set of keys. Cellular phone. Wallet. Coupon for 20% off a whole ZJ's pizza pie (fingers crossed that Scoobs is working there again). Earplugs. 2 durex party-favor condoms (wear on your ear). Shipping receipt. Bookstore receipt. Tower Hill annual giving envelope. Letter from Professor Frohock. 4 lip balms. Broken Jade Tree keychain/bottle opener. Landlord Hershberger's rules of conduct. Rubber band. Snapple lid. Bottle of TobraDex. Valentine from Mom and assorted newspaper clippings (a lawyer that builds lego sculptures is my favorite). ID cards from the YMCA of Delaware, UD, and Wegmans. Yellow stick-pads. 3 CDs (My Morning Jacket, Rites of Spring, Sole). A scrap of paper that has "Hamilton-Wenham" written on it. Capo. Three pens. Bank statement. iPod and its related business. Empty envelope address to Sen. Joe Biden. Swiss army knife. Emery board. Nail clipers. Tweezers. Gum.



Maybe see you soon. Let's play! Amen.

Monday, February 16, 2004

Updates. Updates. Updates.

Okay, first off. Thanks to Craig McKey, an inspiration and a loved one. Realize this man; I am now striving hard to model an ice sculpture to your likeness and place it on the roof of our house in order to reach out to Kalamazoo and find you. Next up, Jon McGlone for the long-awaited follow up to last years phone calls with an email that made me love the kid even more. No more sudden trips up north to disappear for that fellow, at least not with all the films he watches and films he watches that I've never heard of nor can pronounce. I hope everything is well in Grand Rapids for him, I wish him the best. Well, that finishes up the British Isles part of the script. Next up, props to Bill Martin, Al Abril, Mark Pierce, Dan Krauser, the guys over yonder at The Sound Garden, Jess Canovas, Kelly Jean Conroy, Adam Frucci, Matt Stucky, Lauren Shopp, Amelia Tabeling, their friends I don't know other than Kip Whittaker, Hallie Shapiro, Laura Walcott, all the old Brew 3 cats and Dellplados cats also, Aurelius, Josh Simpson, Devon Petley, and the rest of the people I brushed up against on the snow fields of Syracuse this weekend. That's a long list for someone who works nearly 30 hours a week and goes to school full time. Who knew a few days will put you in contact with such a large group of people that have hardly any connections to each other. Its a fun time and its college. Perhaps not every weekend will encourage such a gathering of the masses, but this weekend did and most have in the past as well. This makes me grateful and overjoyed at my decision to be happy and watch the earth rotate. I owe all of you more than you know. Thank you.

Sunday, February 15, 2004

...Its getting harder and harder to brag about myself. I cannot write this resume. I have nothing to say about myself. I can't sell my self suddenly on the spot, my business grows and grows gradually, earning trust and laughter, a warm smile and a handshake, all culminating in a merger that explodes with joy and productivity. One summer working in an environment suitable for my hopeful career will probably not be enough to get in with the 'gang'. Perhaps I'll just surprise them, come out of the woodwork and cheer them up with coffee and awkward smiles, a delicious danish and a sophisticated inquiry, a mail delivery and a poignant creative remark...yea, that would work nicely. But now. Now. What am I supposed to do with this resume. It states my name, education, past employment history and a little blank section filled with my self-deprecation and graciousness, my lack of confidence, a smile, a few commas, a run-on sentence, and a clever quip. I'll be sending it out tonight. Perhaps tomorrow in my blissful morning alertness I'll have decided to add some humor to it, but people don't want to read humor, especially my humor, and especially when my humor is backed up by a dark and blank window reflecting my face and nothing beyond. Looks like I'll be tied down in this cave for a little longer because the light that I see is behind me, but the reflection I see is distorted so I can't make out what those 'things' are. Hey, you know what, let's not worry about this now, eh. Tomorrow I'll wake up and won't even remember a thing from tonight except that things were accomplished, which is a nice feeling. Let's move ahead, strive forward...gradually

New mindset real quick: moving ahead gradually has some problems with it, yes, it does. But I cannot get into those at the moment. My brain needs to focus on what is directly in front of me and Marvin Gaye's voice right now is singing so sweetly...what's going on. Oh and next up I see Matthew Herbert's Big Band on the iTunes, aaaah, how beautiful it sounds...let's drift to the back of the room, to the bed, and into a deep deep sleep.

Saturday, February 14, 2004

I would like to wake up in a few hours well-rested and smiling and maybe I will be, eh? My legs are tired, my brain is tired, my hearts are busy talking to each other. Sorting this ish out and editing Christopher. We're getting through February, people, and moving on to bigger and better things. Like sleeping for eight hours.
Hey Great American Society. I see you've left yourself for me tonight. How nice of you. I must patiently decline. Mother nature came by the house and scolded my friends, the icicles. However, what she took from the roof was displaced in a dripping fashion onto the porch causing loved ones to slip. So she wins again for I am wary of her slippery frozen water.

Sunday, February 08, 2004

...And so this leaf comes to an end, swallowed whole by the evening frost and dirt that the wind carries from across the yard. It used to provide me with warmth, but now the holes filling the icicles allow me to watch the contents of mother nature and mother earth (different patronymics) with such great pride that no one on this planet or the next will be able to devour my soul. Old words start to resurface like the dead similes acting as metaphors with just a slightly lesser name and function. "Creepy wide-eyed youngsters looping four notes from some tv jingle the entire afternoon." Where did that come from? Oh I know. Perhaps you don't, but in most cases it doesn't matter because remembering names of personal geniuses defeats yourself, defeats your purpose. Let your own self make the reflexive self cower and thus defeating forgetting names and the like. You are your own self. Behind the snooze buttons and the chocolate milkshakes filled with vodka and cranberry sauce, let no one discover people inside of a person, it just doesn't make any sense to the watchers out there trying to uncover their pieces of eight...bars work metallic strings humming a note a little bit too loudly before tidal-waving and crashing over the rest of the world. Look at you. On top, nude, running around your two by two foot square exhausting yourself. But, hell, who cares! I envy you. I am you. You will never know this but I am on top. Look under your feet. So are you! Come join yourself and me. Look below! I'm uncovering the leaf, melting the snow, keeping the icicles under my pillow for next year, just so we know that this goes on and on and on and on.