For you.
Category: Uncategorized
Freewrite
Hello, 2:44
Summoned awake by your pleas
Don’t hit the hay, don’t stop
Strum the keyboard, ponder dreams
Conjure plans and compositions
Study words, connect the dots
Lie awake in utter silence
Break your back by thinking thoughts…
And this time you think you’re tired
You’re just succumbing to the night
To the feelings, catch the silence
A quiet parking lot fights the fight
And a lady sitting lonely
And all those miles aside
And tomorrow’s barely over
She said, today is still tonight
To be more than just a jaywalker
On pallid ground, fall away
Sleep now, sapped soul, disintegrate
Negative thoughts, cynical years, dismissive
Days, days circulating away
For tonight is now today —
Goodbye, 2:44.
Every day brings a ship,
Every ship brings a word;
Well for those who have no fear,
Looking seaward well assured
That the word the vessel brings
Is the word they wish to hear.
RALPH WALDO EMERSON
Someday, Sometime
Sometime when days unwind
Time digresses and happenings upon
Layers of lost you, finding me
Wielding, embodied minds
Tangled in phone lines,
Combating space, seeking sublime
Simultaneous notions, simultaneously mine
Someday, sometime.
This is very relatable,
This is really true,
This is so entirely beautiful.
This Break
Not even relaxing, and hardly enjoyable — I’m just dreadfully lonely.
Nightlife
GARBAGE JUICE. REDDISH-ORANGE, TRANSLUCENT and PUTRID, creeping across the kitchen floor. Febreze the area to disguise the scent, too tired to care. I’ve been in heavy rotation — homework, Sex in the City, Internet, Pretty Woman. Lots of productivity here, lots of progress.
I’m tired of eating candy bars, it’s all I’ve been doing for three days straight. I’ve been entirely too lazy to run to the grocery store to buy a loaf of bread, so I’ll settle for cereal. Boredom set in hardcore this afternoon, so I made my roommates’ bed and rearranged the refrigerator. Last week’s pancake batter is this week’s bacteria farm. The dishes are still dirty so I run them through a second time. I lead such an exquisite, daring life.
I’ve never seen ‘Pretty Woman’ before but I’ve been told it’s a very good flick. Julia Roberts, Richard Gere, Macbook Pro and I — together this evening, eating candy bars and drinking ice water on the living room floor, the garbage hanging out in the adjacent corner. A Swivel Sweeper infomercial flashes across the screen and I wonder who the hell is calling in for a facking mop at this hour in the morning. Fack. The people that order those at 3 a.m. must be the mysterious people of the world. The ones that are seldom seen, who sulk in the shadows of the night in front of their glowing TV screen, praying for a gadget that can lift their troubles on high, wipe away the dirt from under their feet, and remove the smell of garbage juice…
I’m going to bed.
Distraught
It’s not so bad
It’s not so bad
It’s not so bad
It’s not so bad
It’s really not that bad
It’s terrible, no
It’s not so bad
It’s not so bad
It’s not so bad
It could be worse.
And I keep marching forward.
Why Didn’t I Think of That?
I CROSSED PATHS WITH one of my favorite instructors today, the man that put up with my mediocre drawing habits during freshman year.
We generally greet one another in a timely fashion, but today he followed my stride, questioning how things are going with graphic design.
“Great!” I told him. “I love it.” He expressed his approval, before I interjected. “I just wish I knew how to draw better.”
I don’t remember much a word that followed, except that it was collectively, infinite wisdom. At the end of what was roughly 30 seconds of some of the best advice I’d heard in quite a while, he claimed, “Keep a sketchbook with you wherever you go, and just draw. You’ll be surprised what ideas you can lift from your work.” With that, I thanked him, we walked in silence for ten more strides before he turned into his office, to continue his greatness.
The thought was on my mind all day, why I hadn’t started sooner. Now that I have heard it from the Great, I have all the more reason to follow through with it. I generally jot down thoughts, sentences, words, or ideas that I see in a small notebook I carry with me. I’ll even go to the length of describing things in words, in detail…but never draw them. This is something I am going to work into my daily routine.
On a more disheartening note, I had every intention of making a trek back home this weekend over our long “Fall Breather” break. To my chagrin, my incredible place of employment thought it clever to schedule me on the very three days I asked for off. Needless to stay I am stuck in Moorhead with a ton of homework. Talk about a VACATION, I tell you what… there’s nothing more replenishing than 6 days of stir fry and writing philosophy papers, by myself mind you. I expect that campus will be somewhat vacant, which means most people have incredible places of employment that gave them the days off that they asked for. Hmm…
Alright! That is all.
Panzer-man, panzer man, O You —
I RECITED THIS POEM my freshman year of high school for an English class. I’m not certain why I chose Sylvia Plath. She is dark, somewhat cross, and she took her own life at a fairly young age. I have nothing in common with this woman, but am interested in her writing style, the structure of her poems, and their imagery. As angry as she was, she was truly wonderful at what she did.
I really never forgot about this poem, for some reason. It weirds me out, but I think it is so deeply ingrained in my memory because I rented a cassette tape from the pubic library to help memorize it, and listened to her recite the poem over and over. I can recall the exact articulations in each word, how the lines flowed and led into one another — and still recite it just so. Viewing this gives me chills!
I suppose the reason I bring it up again is, I was contemplating reciting it for an assignment in my writing class. Then I read it again, and decided it’s best left in my freshman English class at Bishop Ryan — and simply too vexed. People would think I was an angry little woman.
Sorry, Sylvia.
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