Saturday, July 4, 2009

I Am Amazing

all bo rock i d on ,

that's what it took to narrow down "It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)" on Bringing It All Back Home by Bob Dylan to "What a Catch, Donnie" from Folie a Deux by Fall Out Boy. Luckily, the first one is a long song. The genre is Rock.

[Edit: great line, "money doesn't talk, it swears."]

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Very Muddled, Not Very Enjoyable Game

I play this new game with my iPod. I start on any song I want to hear, for example, Daughter, by Pearl Jam. I am very meticulous about having all of the correct information on my iPod, so it will also display the genre, Rock, the album, Vs., and maybe the composer. Then, I get it in my little head, that for whatever reason, I want to hear a particular song next, such as anything by Bright Eyes. Now, the band has published many albums, and is always of the genre "Alternative & Punk" or "Indie."

The game I try to play is, by the end of the first song, figure out what letters only those two songs or artists have in common. For example, to win this game, I eliminated all songs that did not have "ght" in them. That narrowed it to 70 out of 500 on the playlist I was on. Then I went for "ea," because of the Bright Eyes album which has the word "ear" in it, which made the count 7. Then I specificed to "ear." Then I added a D. Then a period. Then it was only two Bright Eyes songs and Daughter. Sometimes it is very hard.

Pablo Neruda

that that house is empty
and wants nothing to do with you,
your stories mean nothing,
and if you insist on being gentle,
the dog and the cat will bite you.

And something started in my soul,
fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire,
and I wrote the first faint line,
faint, without substance, pure
nonsense,
pure wisdom
of someone who knows nothing,
and I suddenly saw
the heavens
unfastened
and open.

I want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees.

Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.

I like for you to be still: it is as though you were absent,
and you hear me from far away and my voice does not touch you.

Love is so short and forgetting is so long.

the rain repeatedly spattering
its words and drilling them full
of apertures and birds.

He learned the alphabet of the lightning

shut up the stars and bury the ash in the earth;
and, in the rising of the light, wake with those who awoke

Your memory is made of light, of smoke, of a still pond.
Beyond your eyes, farther on, the evenings were blazing.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

I'm not sure what the graffiti speed has to be to replay in real time it took to draw it, but my most recent would be rather long.

[Edit: I found the "Stat" function on graffiti. I used 85 colors and it is a total of 175 meters of line.]

Huh...

In 1998, teenagers from Portland, Oregon, celebrating high school graduation held a wet T-shirt contest on a Boeing 727 to a Mexican resort . A flight attendant encouraged the activity. An FAA investigation followed, as pilots supposedly judged the contest on the flight deck, disregarding rules that passengers are not allowed in the cockpit. A video showed contestants emerging from the cockpit wearing wet T-shirts. The FAA disciplined the pilots for sexual misconduct.[1]

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Ugly Sunset by Ethic

Sunset, ducking beneath that horizon
what are you so afraid of?
it gave me goosebumps
undeniably dramatic
moonlight
pouring rain
whipping wind
one last breath
she rose out of that lake like silhouetted sea creature
polaroid proof
damaging my internal organs like soundwaves

if there ever was a moment to be labeled poetic
this was it
she was everything
and we were endless

and now she's nailing some other guy and
I'm trapped between the foreground and the background
as the only guy she knew
who could make her tingle
the breakup gave me acupuncture wounds in all the wrong places
which felt less like a sacred chinese method of release and relaxation
and more like being jabbed with a bunch of little fucking needles

so this
is to that sunset
which claims to be beautiful
with it's shapes and shades and mystical colors but really
it's one ugly motherfucker
that sunset
has put an end to more beautiful days than you care to count
that sunset
is the reason for teen curfews and little girls being taken from their homes
that sunset
is the cause of evil worldwide

fuck that thing
you can paint your canvas and snap your photos,
but I sumbit
that that is one ugly sunset

that sunset
and all of its hideous glory
barked death threats at me
and told me that if I thought it was so fucking ugly that I shouldn't look at it
and if I thought these feelings were too painful
then I shouldn't write poetry about them

I look at that sunset
because even ugly is beautiful
and humanity holds no standards
so kissing the audience with my break up poem is not self indulgence
it's taking something ugly
and painful
and heartbreaking beyond comprehension
and showing you just how fucking beautiful
life can be
so go ahead sunset
keep causing death and destruction and darkness
masking it as beauty
and go ahead baby
make me jealous
pluck my nerves and
yank those fucking tears out of me
I appreciate beauty
no matter how difficult it is to find

I hope you
can do the same

ugly sunset
ducking beneath that horizon
what are you so afraid of?
I might ask him to take me back.
I'm only hesitating uncertainly to make sure I really want this.
I don't think he'll say yes.

Monday, June 29, 2009

My Goodbye Was Not So Lovely

I'll miss you, but only in the happiest way possible. Good bye, Chloe. I love you, and I will never forget you. You've given me self-confidence I will never lose and made me smile more than anyone else ever has. I don't mean to be unoriginal, but it's the perfect way to say what I want to. Thank you for the adventure. Every moment was unforgettable and beautiful and I'm so very happy you trusted me and shared a part of your life with me. Thank you.
It didn't have to end.
Now I'm reading Pablo Neruda.