Changes are coming.

I think I know my answer and I am sure that I am afraid of failure.

Surreal

Surrealsurrealsurrealsurrealsurrealsurrealsurrealsurrealsurreal
surrealsurrealsurfsupsurrealsurrealsurrealsurrealsurrealsurreal
MOVEMOVEMOVEMOVEMOVEMOVE
MOVE
and
post300
and
surreal
what is
go go go go

DONE

DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE DONE.


no congratulations, please.
DONE.

Lunch Break

I can't do this.

a piece of something less

I've known myself to lose bits of time, minutes, hours, lapsed into centuries of forgotten moments and more. The episodes are increasingly frequent, unnoticed, or, unvoiced by others, and nevertheless, failing to exist. Such a moment has since occurred and includes a repeating of the events of earlier but in the context of now. And they said it couldn't be done. I need new clothes.

a piece of nothing more

and then when she turned, I saw the source of it all. Pinned to her back, the dreamcatcher trailed pools of darkness. Black beaded up, dripping down the sinew, she hadn't washed it in awhile. Or maybe...
It flowed out as she walked, rippling towards unsuspecting passersby, clinging to their clothes and hair, to go unnoticed until dusk. She had to have known. She had to. They never would.

Consistently and Consistently

I fear I've been misunderstood. Misconstrued. Misanalyzed. Mis-teried.

I need to research that...

I sit in the intersection watching people cross both ways. I imagine that I might be dreaming. Then I realize I'm not. They are.

And in the long run

will it all work?

Happiness Molecules

"I can feel everything." And the room wasn't the room but something else. Where are we. I am stretched. I am stretched out. Pulled apart. I'm being pulled. I feel stretched. And the form of everything melts away like wax. Everything but faces. Everything but faces but nothing else matters. You can feel everything.

I...

am sick. No, I'm not sick. Something is not right. My eyes are drying out. I am not right. There's something else. A knot. I thought I was hungry so I ate, but it turns out I was full. And worse, I have no water. I'm uncomfortable. I want to run to run to run. I want to invite someone to do something. I want to
I need to go. Something is not right and I need to go. There are 40,000 police officers outside and I want to go tell each of them that I appreciate what they do. But that's not the problem. That's not what is not right. That's something else. The air. Or possibly something else. Is not right. to. I gotta. run. If in fact it were the case, forget about the case. Just forget it. There are 365 days in a year.

Its funny...

American media has a love affair with Barack Obama. They applaud his brilliant public speaking, and its true...he does speak well...with a teleprompter. On St. Patrick's Day, Obama, thanks to a slip in the teleprompter, ended up thanking himself for throwing his own party. He thanked himself. What a brilliant man. Considering the fact that American media actually paid 0 attention to the blunder, I thought surely it was an isolated incident. Not so, my friends. A quick search on YouTube garnered dozens of videos of the excellent speaker in moments that either weren't scripted for him or when the teleprompter broke down. The result? Stumble, mumble, bumble. The man can't put together his own SENTENCE, let alone what could be interpreted as an answer to the questions asked.

If it were Bush, and it has been, the media would be all over him like sharks. But not Obama. He's here to save us. To bring us change. At least that's what his teleprompter says...

I'm freaking out man

You are freaking out...man...

Finals are coming. Am I ready? No. Am I overloaded? Yes.

Summer is coming. Am I ready? No. No word yet on the job I not only desperately want but feel that I need, in every fiber of my being. Everything in my daily life feels like its funneling me towards this opportunity and I love that, but the fact is, I don't know who's decision it is to make and I'm not entirely sure those people know me well enough to see it. Furthermore, my ability to find a second job (or rather a first job, should I not be accepted) is handcuffed by my knowing whether or not I can commit full time or only part time, thus restricting my ability to be interviewed for other jobs.
I have to sublet also.

Fall comes after that and our senior scheduling is so messed up, I couldn't make the schedule I wanted, which has forced me out of the glorious position at the music library. I have to find a new job and I really have no idea how I'll have time for it. Except weekends. I won't make enough money, I know it. Thanks to the scheduling process, my schedule is so spread out, and no, not all my first or second choices made it. I assume the advisers patted themselves on the back for giving me a less-stressful and compact schedule, but what they don't realize is that my schedule needs to be compact so I can WORK.

Now I can either search for a fall job or study. Or flounder in fear of further financial restriction.

Every semester, I become increasingly aware of the true potential behind the term "poor college student."

Charlotte, Charlotte My Love

These are the ingredients for the perfect break between shifts:
1. A stoop.
2. The sunshine.
3. Aviator sunglasses.
4. A glass of freshly brewed iced tea, no sugar, plenty of ice.
5. A bass guitar and pick.
6. One of those cheap white plastic chairs that break every time you sit on one, making for great repurchase value.

Directions: Combine ingredients appropriately and stir for two hours.

Eight reasons why an octopus is better than a person

1. They have eight arms.
2. They can breathe underwater.
3. They have no bones.
4. They have ink.
5. They can sink ships.
6. They're born in outer space.
7. They're super smart.
8. They're sneaky.

I'd also like to mention:

I've always been fond of silhouettes of trees and leaves.
And not-silhouettes, also.

Photographs

A Photograph:
Some people in a town square, candid.

A photograph:
One person on a bench in the town square, still candid.

Photograph:
One person, back turned, a different person, or at least a different coat, on the stoop of presumably their house, as they are bending to the keyhole. Perhaps it isn't theirs after all...

photograph:
Some person, coat off now, posing with spatula in hand, eggs and toast cooking on stove.

Photo:
Natural light only, an empty wood-floored room save a television on the floor, static.

photo:
The cook, sitting cross-legged towards the static on the television, looking back and smiling. Two plates sit on the floor in front of them.

Polaroid:
Empty hallway, last door on right, cook peeking around the door frame.

Remember Sammy Jankis

I have this thing where I carry around small slips of paper and write on them some things. I realized this is what Sammy Jankis did. But he was a fraud. I am not that.

Hahaaa

You thought you had me.
For a minute I was near convinced.
You thought you could FOOL me but.
But.
But but but but but.
I saw through it.
I was close,
Close to believing every word.
Eating up every sly comment, but.
As they dissipated, and you faded,
That's when I saw it.
An epiphany, in a flash.
I realized what I had gotten and what I hadn't,
And what I hadn't was real.
You thought you had me,
WELL DON'T YOU FEEL THE FOOL NOW.
Here Here Here Here Here
And HERE I am and I knowwwwwww
Who
You
Are
Yet what I haven't figured out.
Is why.
AND I ASSUME!
There's an answer beyond what I knowwww.
True to be here myself true I am
And I will know I will tell I will
I will believvvve what it is
I came to find out and even if
Oh you think I am crazy.
I am. I am and I am.
And you can't fool a crazy person.
Unless you can.

Alright Sparky, Here's the Deal...

Name that movie.^
I'll give you a hint.
It's Aladdin.

If you wanna court the little lady you're gonna have to be a straight shooter, do ya got it?

What if...
What if...
What if...

I didn't have responsibilities to attend to?
Simple.

Of course real horror does not depend upon the melodrama of shadows or even the conspiracies of night...

Where have I heard that before?

House of Leaves.

But in the meantime, I have a decision to make. And a few more.



hold on, someone is screaming.

In the sea

I've lost my bearings.

There's only one way to go.

NO IMAGINATION

I quit. Maybe through lack of imagination, maybe through this rope I've tied myself to, I quit. Such a constricting theme is not my scene. Mine is a theme of somewhat of a guideline. The kindling, rather than the flame. Screw you, They Live. No. I still love you. I'm sorry.

SUBMIT TO AUTHORITY

I'm protesting against this post because I realized I had failed to foresee the political implications in scheduling a theme as politically charged as one from They Live. I'm sick of political posts, hence this protest. Ironically, protests are a form of political action, and a theme, a form of authority.

Today

Today is my 7800th day of life! I'm not saying we should have a party but...

I mean this is a pretty big day.

:p
:p

WATCH TELEVISION

Instructions: Power On. Result: Instant Sedative.

Again, Again

Just so I don't have to keep scrolling so far to remind myself of today's theme. Shut up.
OBEY
CONSUME
STAY ASLEEP
MARRY AND REPRODUCE
NO FREE THOUGHT
CONFORM
WATCH TELEVISION
SUBMIT TO AUTHORITY
NO IMAGINATION

Echoes

EchoesEchoesEchoesEchoes
EchoesEchoesEchoesEchoes
EchoesEchoesEchoesEchoes
EchoesEchoesEchoesEchoes
EchoesEchoesEchoesEchoes
EchoesEchoesEchoesEchoes
EchoesEchoesEchoesEchoes
EchoesEchoesEchoesEchoes
EchoesEchoesEchoesEchoes

CONFORM

While
Walking
Along the
Riverbed I
Took notice of my
Reflection and
Paused for a
Moment
Just

To
See what
I was up
To. I quickly
Became jealous of
That ghost's life and
Desperately
Tried to
Match

His
Clothing
And copy
His demeanor
So that maybe, just
Maybe, I would
Be happy
And well-
Liked.

epiphany

There are times when I feel lazy that rather than take a whole shower, I'll stick my head in and just wash my hair. I think it takes more effort.


It doesn't stop me.

NO FREE THOUGHT

A daily pill. Blue on one side, white on the other. Sixty tiny milligrams of something or other to suppress everything normal people would call creative. The white walls, the white sheets, the white uniforms, the white labcoats, the white doors with locks and the white-lined windows wired shut. To suppress. A flickering television. A flickering television with muted sound. Black and white. A ringing silence. Collecting dust. And a checkered floor. Black and white. A checkered floor and a thick oak chair. A checkered floor and a thick oak chair with leather straps and a cord tethering it to an electrical socket. A white electrical socket. A thick oak chair to be used twice a week for six weeks. I don't remember ever using it. That's suppressed too. A closely monitored set of correspondence. Trickles away as time moves on. A set of forgotten relationships. Forgotten or suppressed. A vast green lawn expanding forever, beyond which is incomprehensible. Unimaginable. Unimaginable because we are not allowed to imagine it. To imagine.