Funny Stuff about crushes from the Viceland:

WALKING ON THE PHONE
I know you want to sound relaxed and busy with other stuff, but calling her from your cell phone while you walk has the opposite effect. I once called this girl Jasmine while I was walking down six flights of stairs and, though I thought it would come across as busy-guy-who-can-only-catch-up-on-phone-calls-while-getting-to-the-train, it came across as psychotic-pervert-who-likes-to-jerk-off-when-he-leaves-messages. Apparently her roommates saved it forever and would smoke pot and laugh their asses off to me going, “He ey ey Ja ah ah sm sm sm ine ine, wha at s u up?” and so on. When I finally went over there, they were staring at me with bug eyes going, “Holy shit, that’s the phone guy!” Anyway, just stop by the dumpster next time you’re leaving a message. You don’t need to be breathing like that.

A thought or two or you fellow bloggers, and anybody else who may enjoy it:

To while away the idle hours, seated the livelong day before the inkslab, by jotting down without order or purpose whatever trifling thoughts pass through my mind, verily this is a queer and crazy thing to do!

—Yoshida Kenko (1283–1352)

If you liked that, you may like where it came from, a site called Aporia.

aporia - Wonder and amazement before the confusing puzzles and paradoxes of our lives and of the universe. Socrates and the other ancient philosophers tried to evoke the philosophic spirit in young men by awakening their aporia, not by simply providing answers to these puzzles.

Keep in mind there is no particular audience for this poem (ie, no intended or beloved, but it sounds cool). I found this on another blog. It sorta reminds me of this one time I wrote an erotic poem (sorry the poem is now gone with the girl), and it actually produced the desired effect. Now the problem is finding a solution to this, which is about scholarly pursuits but fitting enough: Nothing is bitterer than a long dwelling in potential. Nothing shows better what disconsolate gloom may derive from an incessant postponement of the deed (Giorgio Agamben in his essay, The Idea of Study).

The poem:

Imagine a Kiss

Looking into your eyes
Drawing you ever so near
Even that doesnt feel close enough
I want your body to crush me
My body heat feels so elevated
So hot to the touch
I can hardly draw breathe
The need of you is so fierce
Consuming my very soul
Until we make contact
You startle me with your passion
Your lips crushing mne taking me by force
When my will so unsure
We connect soul to soul
Heart understanding without communication
No words are needed
They are simply unnecessary
Pleasure exploding thrugh my body
Rocking my world making me dizzy
I am lost in your shadow
Trying in vain to clear my senses
Our bodies rspond to each other
Our own primal need so clearly shown
You are touching me all over
Your lips bruising my skin
Leaving invisible trails down my body
I rest my head next to your heart
Trying to still the chaos in my body
You bring me to the edge of heaven
Showing me a promise of what can be
When I let you make love to me
This is how I imagine our kiss

Talk about loving your work like an 'ugly stepchild' . . . What a freakin' bleak piece this thing is! {see below}

Reflections in the Lobby

You ask me now to tell you,
So listen, I speak the truth.
I swear I'll fight with all I have.
Against me there's no proof.

I was born here I don't know when.
Mother passed away when I was born.
My father was a drunkard.
I don't remember him.

They always used to shout throw, throw, throw
But I just took my time.
They got angry when I did that.
I never paid them any mind.

Nobody could run as fast as me and I never did look back.
I ran and ran 'til the surroundings were not familiar any more.
Never talk to strangers, they used to say.
"Good child, now go to sleep - for tomorrow is a busy day.

I woke up in someone's lap
I couldn't tell you who,
Dusk was falling quickly.
The bearded man comes too.

T'was a toothless woman sitting there.
Everyone looked strange.
My thirsty throat was burning
With longing lonesome strains.

Now you come to me in your fine coats
And your fine English curses you!
There's God above who knows all
Who will surely deal with you.

But I am speaking of myself
What now will you do?
Let my sins go with me
Or take a dead man's curse with you.

I am borrowing this from somebody else: One because ti's true, Google is the best, and two he used the phrase 'too cool for school.'

Google is the best search engine, but the guys at Google think they are too cool for school. You can choose dozens of different languages to use with Google. Some are silly languages that are just dumb:
Klingon
Swedish Chef from The Muppet Show
Hacker
Pig Latin
Elmer Fudd

Thanks to everyone who came to see the show Saturday! It's always nice to have support from your friends. Next time, I'll try to have a bit more advance notice, so folks can plan accordingly. It's tough going in with less than a week's notice, and tougher when you're competing with Pearl Jam. Word is that they did a good show.

The Flaming Lips put on a good show yesterday. A sorta last minute thinger for that show. A band from Columbus, OH called the Sun opened, and Sparkle horse did a short short set as well. Metropol, although hardly my favorite venue to see bands, wasnt' as bad as it can be. Thankfully their sound guy was good. Holy crowded, though . . .

Today is absolutely perfect outside! That temp where you can go shorts and T-shirt, and not roast. I took lunch under a tree and watched the bees do their thing . . .

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." - Ralph Walso Emerson

The semester is over... I enjoyed this last class (The Uses of Literacy), but it kicked my ass. I thought I knew how to read, I thought I knew how to write, and maybe that was the part of the point of the class: to show that there is always going to be room for improvement. Don't get me wrong, I liked the class, even though it was challenging for all of us. I found out again, that ther'e much more that I don't know than I do... and at least in knowing that I don't know something, I'm a little bit further along, right? So yeah, I have a bit of a break now.

Dingus Day Was Lovely.

It was warm for once, and just when it was starting to get cold last night, everybody in our entourage was ready to pack it up and head out. They played the Ring of Fire Polka, replete with horns and accordion, that always warms everybody's soggy hearts. The one bartender, well, I'm thinking she's from Cleveland and proud of it, she was there again. The smoker-haven by the bathrooms was full, ahh the comraderie of the smoker haven, almost makes me wish I was still a smoker. There were a couple of old babas, sportin' the babushkas, head down and all bent forward with their slickers on. One old lady had goggles. Mad props to everyone who went, but mad props to especially to the babas for being brave enough to hold up that tradition.

Wishing all a very merry Dingus Day!!!

From the Coal Speak Dictionary: Dingus Day : The day after Easter Sunday. Men would chase women around with buckets of water and the women would hit them with switches. From a viewer: this tradition began in Poland, and involved pussy willows. "Ed. note: 'hit them with switches'? What's up with that?" The way we do it here is kinda similar, minus the pussy willows and perfume, ohhhh and uhmmm minus the follow up Tuesday. Ladies, you're invited to begin establishing one, but I wish you good luck. It's probably easiest to go tit-for-tat on Monday and call a truce for Tuesday. Besides dishes and crockery can get pretty expensive ...

bloggidysnarf

No one gives anyone a chance anymore, we all just look at the outside and don't think about the inside
I'm as guilty as the next, hide behind a veiled pretext

try to make a note of this feeling
trust me her eyes said
her smile said it hurts sometimes
her shoulders strong and proud
and then there's love
**************************
i wished i knew what to say or to do
so i smiled and looked at a bird
maybe it's different now maybe it's the same
last year it was somebody else
if i do or if I don't
it it doesn't matter
I probably will I probably won't
******************************
i could give but i never believe
i got my own but i need something that's different
and what do we do with our mistakes
do we just throw them away?
or are they dreams of what i am or what i was?
well don't give up your dreams

bring an umbrella if it might rain
you must finsih now, just try to remember
you know who's in charge? you are

What is this, Crazy-talk ?

First things first, Doctor do no harm.
Take your time, walking in the sun
When it hurts, she'll sound the alarm
Soldier with a never fired gun

and what did you think when they pelted you with eggs and ink?

high flying leaves blowing in the breeze
nettles that sting and bumble bees

never look back

the flip side of happiness is the standard: a frolic on my own
what would you say if that was you?
look to your left now look to the right and look straight ahead
there's no one around it's all in your head
never look back
two bananas turn black
never look back

stand up tall you know you are proud
just don't you forget how you felt when you were down

perhaps the closest experience to hell is that of being abandoned by someone you thought loved you
everyone has to wrestle with why
just take your time
pressing magnolia petals in the telephone book
never look back
two bananas turn black
never look back


after you've taken a drink from the cup
you'll see everyone and everything is pointing up

Here's something kinda cool about economics and stuff.

Word for the Day from Dictionary dot com . . . it's Dot Com!
tmesis \TMEE-sis\, noun:
In grammar and rhetoric, the separation of the parts of a compound word, now generally done for humorous effect; for example, "what place soever" instead of "whatsoever place," or "abso-bloody-lutely."

Examples of tmesis:

If on the first, how heinous e'er it be,
To win thy after-love I pardon thee.
--Shakespeare, Richard II

His income-tax return, he remarked, was the "most rigged-up marole" he'd ever seen.
--Frederic Packard

In two words, im possible.
--Samuel Goldwyn

Tmesis is from Greek tmesis, "a cutting," from temnein, "to cut."

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I'm figuring something out, something that in order to find the answer, you must first ask the question. I'm figuring out how to ask that question.
Question asking is an important element, and I'm practicing that more and more. That question asking practice is important because once I find my answer, I think there's gonna be a lot more questions. Part of what is involved: think about what you are thinking, how you are thinking it, and why you are thinking it.

Today's theme: Something in the Air

Knife throwers: Good luck finding a replacement. It's a job I'd never want . . .

A seminal thought: It's occurred to me that the spunky smell on some streets in Oakland and South Side is not from some public pervert who just moments ago had a moment . . . but it's the dogwood trees. This past week they've been in bloom and releasing their pheromones. Some folks aside from me have noticed it. Tony's college chick neighbor was saying: "Yeah, it smells like cleaner or .... " All of the trees that his block is lined with are dogwoods it seems. Maybe you had to be there, but it was funny. I guess all life forms share a large amount of the same DNA so maybe it's not surprising that our reproductive scents may be similar. I was thinking, this dude, whoever he is, sure is wound up. I'm glad it's just mother nature.

Saddam Hussein still at large, missing, whereabouts unknown. We have no DNA sources to look for his trace remains in the rubble or ruins. But his statue is down, symbolically he's overthrown, and he's pretty well ousted in every other sense of the word. We may see hima gain, though. who knows?

Speaking of rubble and ruins, I saw the tear-down production of an old warehouse-type building last night. It served as the backdrop for the players at the Valhalla open mic in the Strip District. Ya know how some performers will have a movie playing behind them? Well, there was no movie, but the cranes and big diggers and falling bricks and building chunks filled the tall windows behind the players in the bar area of Valhalla. Pretty cool looking. My guess is the building is gonna be replaced by the new expansions of the Heinz History Center.

I played a coupla standby originals and a new one I just learned this weekend: When You're Loved Like You Are by a band called Of Montreal. They're not from Montreal, their from Athens, GA or something.

Oh soap box, how do you stand to bear it all?
Pardon me while I step on you. And soapbox?
I'll try to keep you in the scholarly realm of open air,
And not push you behind the pulpit over there.

This story about some angry and misguided woman protesting Fred Rogers' life and work was brought to my attention from Joe's blog, and I feel compelled to comment as well.

The miasma that these folks purport to be the truth has some obvious flaws. How unfortunate that some people cannot see these flaws, their flawed logic.

1. Fred Rogers' television show was/is for children. Themes relating to sexuality are not for children. We should protect the innocence of children. Grave topics like divorce and death merit a child's attention, because they unfortunately are part of life that a child may experience. But the distinctions between hetero- and homo-sexual relations are not appropriate for a figure like Fred Rogers to address. I imagine this is why he never did a show about it.

2. Hate is not the same as love. They are different things. Both demand a lot of attention, but different kinds of attention. God loves all of his creatures, all of us sinners, including those who choose to hate. That's some powerful love. It is sin He chooses to hate. Gay or not, God still loves you. Simply put: Love the sinner, hate the sin... These folks are missing that point. One needn't look further than the web addy: ww.godhatesfags.com These folks have hate in their name. How unfortunate.

In a make-believe (had to use the term) dialog between Matt Shepherd and Fred Rogers in Hell (oh, they condemn Mr. Rogers to Hell), these folks, suggest that if Shepherd had read his Bible, he'd recognize "the lies that Mr. Rogers sold." Hmmmm . . . if these same people read thier Bible as well, wouldn't they know the familiar passage:
Do not pass judgement, that you may not be judged; for the way you judge you will be judged and with what yardstick you measure you will be measured. But why notice the splinter in your brother’s eye without taking notice of the beam in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, Let me extract that splinter from your eye, when there is a beam in your own eye? You hypocrite! First get rid of that beam in your eye; then you will see clearly to extract the splinter from your brother’s eye. (uh-oh, sounds like a carpenter...). (Matthew 7:1-5)

I'm not saying, "Hey everybody, go be gay!" I'm saying don't hate people. It's easy to point out flaws in other people, but tough to treat a person with love and respect despite their flaws . . . it's a two-way street man, and that's what it's really about.
As a good academic, I cite my sources. As a bad poet, please pardon me if I pushed my soap box a little far.