Peel.
Open.
Rip.
Fourth cigarette of the day.
Take.
Flick.
Draw closer.
Drag.
I’m hungry…and I need some music.
Exhale.
Queen.
“Somebody To Love”…No. “Another One Bites The Dust?” No…
Pause.
Draw to lips.
Drag.
“The Show Must Go On.”
Click.
Exhale.
Ash.
Intro.
“Empty spaces, what are we living for? Abandoned places, I guess we know the score.”
Put hand to chin.
Homework or movie?
Be indecisive.
Fix hair.
Place hands on keyboard.
Keep cigarette in mouth.
Drag.
Exhale.
Sing along.
“Show must go on. I’ll face it with a grin! I’m never giving in!”
Drag.
Take cigarette from mouth.
Exhale.
Ash.
Next song, “Bijou.”
Relate life to song for three minutes.
Ash.
Drag.
Exhale.
Place onto ashtray.
“Forever…my bijou.”
Guitar solo.
Take from ashtray.
Draw to lips.
Tilt head.
Drag.
Exhale.
Tilt head.
Draw to lips.
Drag.
Exhale.
Turn your head to the ashtray. Stare at it so you don’t get ash on the table. Prod the ashtray with the cherry.
Make sure to put the cherry out completely.
Make sure there’s no more smoke.
Ponder.
Fuck it.
Open.
Fifth cigarette of the day…
Take.
Flick.
Closer.
Drag.
I’m still hungry…and I need some more music.
Exhale.
It’s a gale.
2.23.2009
13. Why Are You Holding Your Breath?
Would you know how to describe it?
Your inner breath. Beyond your lungs.
You see, you’re holding it until your brain itches from lack of Fresh.
I want to release. Make peace. Restart the cyclic tendencies of Nature.
Your breath now has colors.
So when you suck it all in, it’s a swarming Blue.
The Blue, it folds around your soul. Like a new bruise.
Now, let’s understand—your soul turns blue after you refuse to exhale.
You’re riding against the cyclic tendencies of Nature.
Nature’s nature is to heal. Nature’s nature is to move on.
You say, “No man. You shall not proceed. YOU are on stubborn territory.
Then those tiny atoms of life, just as they were a slate of Blue, they slowly sparkle down to a Green.
Green is lesser than Blue. Just ask the sky and the earth.
Particles of air, they’re not supposed to change colors. They need the consistency of what we believe it to be. When you stare into the heavens, do you expect to see atomic bombs peaking through? Do you expect them to grow into greater and greater circles, a truly unnatural existence? Everything we expect of the atmosphere is stagnant. The colors we expect to see, they’re all the same. The movements of the clouds, it’s an unchanging pace. When we peer into the sun’s waving arms, do we expect to see the moon?
So when you breath in, do you expect to hold on forever and yet keep living?
I do not want to inform you of what comes after Green.
It is not what you expect.
It is not Pink, not Silver, nor Tan.
It is a question.
Yes, I had to do what I didn’t want. I didn’t want you to know.
But the important thing is, that question is asked by your heart.
Because your heart is the first to realize what’s happening.
It wills you to bring Hands to Mouth and pry the dried glue of hopelessness so that it can squeeze one drop of Desire onto your thrashing, dying tongue.
As of now, your body is recovering.
Your lips are cracked. The eyes, dysfunctional.
More importantly, the eyes think they’re still seeing Green.
It’s the most crucial part.
This is where you shine.
This is where you answer your heart.
This is where you bring all Force and Might back into your mind.
This is where you release your grip on your own two palms, otherwise known as Nothing.
This is where you close your lids to deceive the eyes. They’re thinking they see Green.
Deceiving false beliefs is a double negative. Ignorance is bliss.
Do yourself a favor.
“Try to realize it’s all within yourself; no one else can make you change.”
Do yourself a favor.
Let it go.
It’s Nature’s flavor to JUST WORK.
Let her strings vibrate nutritious music into your own lengthy bones, where it will feed you forever.
Peace of mind, Peace of mind. To see strings unwind.
Now, let go.
Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuh.
Your inner breath. Beyond your lungs.
You see, you’re holding it until your brain itches from lack of Fresh.
I want to release. Make peace. Restart the cyclic tendencies of Nature.
Your breath now has colors.
So when you suck it all in, it’s a swarming Blue.
The Blue, it folds around your soul. Like a new bruise.
Now, let’s understand—your soul turns blue after you refuse to exhale.
You’re riding against the cyclic tendencies of Nature.
Nature’s nature is to heal. Nature’s nature is to move on.
You say, “No man. You shall not proceed. YOU are on stubborn territory.
Then those tiny atoms of life, just as they were a slate of Blue, they slowly sparkle down to a Green.
Green is lesser than Blue. Just ask the sky and the earth.
Particles of air, they’re not supposed to change colors. They need the consistency of what we believe it to be. When you stare into the heavens, do you expect to see atomic bombs peaking through? Do you expect them to grow into greater and greater circles, a truly unnatural existence? Everything we expect of the atmosphere is stagnant. The colors we expect to see, they’re all the same. The movements of the clouds, it’s an unchanging pace. When we peer into the sun’s waving arms, do we expect to see the moon?
So when you breath in, do you expect to hold on forever and yet keep living?
I do not want to inform you of what comes after Green.
It is not what you expect.
It is not Pink, not Silver, nor Tan.
It is a question.
Yes, I had to do what I didn’t want. I didn’t want you to know.
But the important thing is, that question is asked by your heart.
Because your heart is the first to realize what’s happening.
It wills you to bring Hands to Mouth and pry the dried glue of hopelessness so that it can squeeze one drop of Desire onto your thrashing, dying tongue.
As of now, your body is recovering.
Your lips are cracked. The eyes, dysfunctional.
More importantly, the eyes think they’re still seeing Green.
It’s the most crucial part.
This is where you shine.
This is where you answer your heart.
This is where you bring all Force and Might back into your mind.
This is where you release your grip on your own two palms, otherwise known as Nothing.
This is where you close your lids to deceive the eyes. They’re thinking they see Green.
Deceiving false beliefs is a double negative. Ignorance is bliss.
Do yourself a favor.
“Try to realize it’s all within yourself; no one else can make you change.”
Do yourself a favor.
Let it go.
It’s Nature’s flavor to JUST WORK.
Let her strings vibrate nutritious music into your own lengthy bones, where it will feed you forever.
Peace of mind, Peace of mind. To see strings unwind.
Now, let go.
Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuh.
12. Worldly Connections
Everything is connected in this world. EVERYTHING. The thing is, you won't find out ‘til you blink your eyes. Think of dirty streets. Think of getting lost. Believe in discovering things you don't want, and things you've wanted your whole life.
11. Bites of Life
I now present a concise bit of poetry in honor and dedication to Dean Nguyen:
"Slice a piece of revelation into your everyday life,
See through bites of succulent experiences,
Like citric sunsets, nutritious fights with your friends.
Bear in mind the short length of taste!"
"Slice a piece of revelation into your everyday life,
See through bites of succulent experiences,
Like citric sunsets, nutritious fights with your friends.
Bear in mind the short length of taste!"
10. Thinking Of Nothing
I stared at the screen. 1 second ago.
I thought it was empty. 5 seconds ago.
Two lines. 2 seconds ago.
Three lines. 1 second ago.
Why did I decide to start writing anything? 30 seconds ago.
I was thinking of the concept of nothing. 1 minute ago.
Why was I so interested in nothing? 1 minute, 10 seconds ago.
When I was staring at the white screen, I realized someone created this program years ago. 1 minute, 10 seconds ago.
Where am I going with this? 1 second ago.
My point is, the white screen was in fact not nothing, but the product of a genius revelation some utilitarian person putting his or her watts into good use. The last 50 seconds ago.
I reread what I wrote. The last 10 seconds ago.
Whatever I wrote is the past. Whatever I will write later will still become the past instantaneously. 3 seconds ago.
If everything I wrote is the past, was it ever the present at any point? 4 seconds ago.
While I am thinking of what to write next, is that the future for what I will right? 2 seconds ago.
This document is now black as well as white. That’s not nothing either. 2 seconds ago.
I thought it was empty. 5 seconds ago.
Two lines. 2 seconds ago.
Three lines. 1 second ago.
Why did I decide to start writing anything? 30 seconds ago.
I was thinking of the concept of nothing. 1 minute ago.
Why was I so interested in nothing? 1 minute, 10 seconds ago.
When I was staring at the white screen, I realized someone created this program years ago. 1 minute, 10 seconds ago.
Where am I going with this? 1 second ago.
My point is, the white screen was in fact not nothing, but the product of a genius revelation some utilitarian person putting his or her watts into good use. The last 50 seconds ago.
I reread what I wrote. The last 10 seconds ago.
Whatever I wrote is the past. Whatever I will write later will still become the past instantaneously. 3 seconds ago.
If everything I wrote is the past, was it ever the present at any point? 4 seconds ago.
While I am thinking of what to write next, is that the future for what I will right? 2 seconds ago.
This document is now black as well as white. That’s not nothing either. 2 seconds ago.
9. The Worth Of Today
You know… I just thought of something. I realized, I never think about how I am. What I mean is when someone asks me “How are you today?” I always take a moment to consider because I really haven’t thought of it. I never really take a moment when I start a new day to acknowledge what my state is, how I’m feeling, what makes the day a new day. If I were feeling the same feeling I’d felt another day before, it wouldn’t be a new day. It would just be reduplication, recycling, or a mirror image of the day before.
Then the next question I should ask is, “What makes the next day a new day?” What happens on all my days that make each one different? Are they successions of each other? Are they independent of each other? I mean, it seems like the last two questions have pretty obvious answers, and it seems like it’s obvious only one is the right question. But then again, both might be true in their own ways.
I wonder how it would be like to be conscious of everything you’d done the day before, and so when you wake up every morning you start your day based on how you did on the last one. In this way, each day would be a succession of the last. That means, today, December 16 of the year 2008, this nth day of my life, is worth every experience I went through for the last n-1 days of my entire life. But if I’m going to take an arithmetic approach to evaluating this hypothesis, then I have to question how these days calculate. Do they add up? Or do they multiply? What is the relationship between each day of this equation? Would I have to add up the days to calculate what exact worth today is? Or would I have to multiply the days? What if there’s a variable in the equation? On second thought…duh. Of course there would be a variable. Of course there would be countless variables!! This arithmetic approach has way too many parts for me to even generalize.
Then the next question I should ask is, “What makes the next day a new day?” What happens on all my days that make each one different? Are they successions of each other? Are they independent of each other? I mean, it seems like the last two questions have pretty obvious answers, and it seems like it’s obvious only one is the right question. But then again, both might be true in their own ways.
I wonder how it would be like to be conscious of everything you’d done the day before, and so when you wake up every morning you start your day based on how you did on the last one. In this way, each day would be a succession of the last. That means, today, December 16 of the year 2008, this nth day of my life, is worth every experience I went through for the last n-1 days of my entire life. But if I’m going to take an arithmetic approach to evaluating this hypothesis, then I have to question how these days calculate. Do they add up? Or do they multiply? What is the relationship between each day of this equation? Would I have to add up the days to calculate what exact worth today is? Or would I have to multiply the days? What if there’s a variable in the equation? On second thought…duh. Of course there would be a variable. Of course there would be countless variables!! This arithmetic approach has way too many parts for me to even generalize.
8. She
She ran down the streets, chasing the lights that twinkled before her eyes in a festive stroke. They traced circles in her dreams, circles of desire and eternity. They sparked will, brought warmth to her navel, encased her in a crystal shell. Then a spiral of fireworks shot from the depths of her eyes, creating an implosion. Deep within, there was a blast and a display of dreams—dreams from every second of her life. They fell into place like destiny. They fell all over her body. She disappeared, and in place there was the Angel of Hope. It rose above the ground, fluttered its wings, and from them clouds of dust invaded the atmosphere. It flew high into the sky, leaving behind wishes and desires counting far more than what she had. The Angel of Hope closed its eyes, enveloped itself with its wings, and soon not a speck of dust was left to prove the Angel of Hope, let alone she, had ever graced the streets.
7. Rice
I’m sitting at the kitchen table, listening to Korean TV, sipping on some Korean OB Blue, drinking some shi kae, remembering my bokun bab breakfast.
I feel in my guts the Korean blood that was pumped into my body the moment I had my first life-meal, when umma fed me my first real Korean meal.
This was 4 years of my birth and stay in Korea.
How, with 4 short years I can barely remember, has it stayed in me? Withstanding purges, cleansing, dilution, age?
Food, I must say, is a long-lasting mystery.
Shi kae…..ahhhhh.
I am on cloud nine.
I feel in my guts the Korean blood that was pumped into my body the moment I had my first life-meal, when umma fed me my first real Korean meal.
This was 4 years of my birth and stay in Korea.
How, with 4 short years I can barely remember, has it stayed in me? Withstanding purges, cleansing, dilution, age?
Food, I must say, is a long-lasting mystery.
Shi kae…..ahhhhh.
I am on cloud nine.
6. My Green And Your Blue
I see traces here
Down beat in my heart;
They surround my atmosphere
The most gaseous part.
The tiny reminders,
They move slowly for me
A tear that last
Ever since my past.
The colors intertwine
In a seeping green and blue.
They stain my skin, my shine
Now I remind me of you.
And so I try to keep away
I run away with my past
But I never realized
Colors are fast.
My eyes are now stained too
In a seeping green and blue.
They stain my skin, my shine
So now I remind me of you.
How do I leave these colors behind
When they have molded me
Into what I am today?
I can’t let them go.
The solemn days that haunt me now
I wish they’d get tired of my repetitive lies.
I just hope that one day they stop feeding on me
Because my colors are there for all to see.
My seeping green and blue, it’s a gift from me to you.
Down beat in my heart;
They surround my atmosphere
The most gaseous part.
The tiny reminders,
They move slowly for me
A tear that last
Ever since my past.
The colors intertwine
In a seeping green and blue.
They stain my skin, my shine
Now I remind me of you.
And so I try to keep away
I run away with my past
But I never realized
Colors are fast.
My eyes are now stained too
In a seeping green and blue.
They stain my skin, my shine
So now I remind me of you.
How do I leave these colors behind
When they have molded me
Into what I am today?
I can’t let them go.
The solemn days that haunt me now
I wish they’d get tired of my repetitive lies.
I just hope that one day they stop feeding on me
Because my colors are there for all to see.
My seeping green and blue, it’s a gift from me to you.
5. A Ridiculous Monologue
This is Sun Lee reporting live from her dormitory desk in the repulsive O'Neill premises.
I would like to report a floating thought that happened to stop by on its way to an imaginary fairytale land.
Apparently, this thought has informed us of my obviously ridiculous nature, and experts declare this discovery to be the first of its kind.
No, I kid. It would be amazing if it were the first.
I've had an epiphany.
I'm ridiculous.
Oxford American Dictionary
ridiculous
adjective
deserving or inviting derision or mockery; absurd: “When you realize how ridiculous these scenarios are, you will have to laugh.” See note at ABSURD.
Ridiculous
REEdiculous.
Ruhdiculous
Radiculous
Everything seems ridiculous.
A ridiculous relationship with people.
A ridiculous philosophy.
A ridiculous love.
A ridiculous commitment.
A ridiculous view.
A ridiculous stance.
A ridiculous walk.
A ridiculous talk.
A ridiculous word, ridiculous. It appears to be extremely absurd.
A ridiculous personality.
A ridiculous character.
Blah blah blah.
It's also ridiculous to believe you're the only person I wish to tell this to.
It's also ridiculous how I believe it's ridiculous.
But there's one thing I know is not ridiculous: An apology.
Sorry man, I was a butthole for the last 2 weeks.
I don't know if I'm making up my personality as I go, or if it's really who I am, but this sucks. My personality sucks.
Cuz I'm a butthole.
It sucks being a butthole...you have to deal with so much shit, and it's mostly your own shit.
I would like to report a floating thought that happened to stop by on its way to an imaginary fairytale land.
Apparently, this thought has informed us of my obviously ridiculous nature, and experts declare this discovery to be the first of its kind.
No, I kid. It would be amazing if it were the first.
I've had an epiphany.
I'm ridiculous.
Oxford American Dictionary
ridiculous
adjective
deserving or inviting derision or mockery; absurd: “When you realize how ridiculous these scenarios are, you will have to laugh.” See note at ABSURD.
Ridiculous
REEdiculous.
Ruhdiculous
Radiculous
Everything seems ridiculous.
A ridiculous relationship with people.
A ridiculous philosophy.
A ridiculous love.
A ridiculous commitment.
A ridiculous view.
A ridiculous stance.
A ridiculous walk.
A ridiculous talk.
A ridiculous word, ridiculous. It appears to be extremely absurd.
A ridiculous personality.
A ridiculous character.
Blah blah blah.
It's also ridiculous to believe you're the only person I wish to tell this to.
It's also ridiculous how I believe it's ridiculous.
But there's one thing I know is not ridiculous: An apology.
Sorry man, I was a butthole for the last 2 weeks.
I don't know if I'm making up my personality as I go, or if it's really who I am, but this sucks. My personality sucks.
Cuz I'm a butthole.
It sucks being a butthole...you have to deal with so much shit, and it's mostly your own shit.
4. So I Start Off In Jail
So I start off in jail.
I’m sentenced to 4 years in prison.
The prison is extremely atypical, however. In fact, it’s SO atypical that as I sit here fully conscious, I am not believing how I’d known it was a prison. Its space is open and lavish, almost like the space of a mall. It’s filled with fluorescent light, red and orange colors, and huge marble pillars. The strangest thing about this space, though, is the absence of cells. There are no cells in this prison.
As a matter of fact, I believe I am held prisoner in the Charles B. Wang center prison.
I am with school friends in this prison, and all we do is roam, read books, stare. I don’t remember what we were staring at.
Anyway, I start thinking of a scheme to escape. I remember there is an exit in this Charles B. Wang prison that leads out to a parking lot. I’m conscious of the fact that there are prison guards dotted along the rooftop, but somehow I make it.
Next scene.
I’m in the backyard of my house, doing something quite active, but I don’t remember exactly what. Guards are flooding into the backyard, and I’m recaptured.
God, I totally forgot to mention why I’m in prison!
I’m sentenced to prison because we’re at war in Iraq; America needs women as well as men for the war. So, a group of us female students of Stony Brook University are imprisoned in a penitentiary smack mirroring the Wang Center because America needs women in Iraq. That’s the reason. Nothing else in between. If you think about it, it’s one motherfucking hell of a nonsense reason. It doesn’t add up. They need us for war, so they pen us up in jail? So I’m pissed. That’s why I escaped.
Oh, a key point!
I see Stephanie Min.
Again.
For the 14 millionth time.
She’s angry with me. She’s upset.
I’m not sure why she’s mad at me, but I believe it’s because I’m in jail.
A crucial reason, if not a better reason than the last, to escape. To be free, so I could finally settle our squabble.
But then I’m back.
I’m back in jail, and a friend saunters towards to me. She asks me what I’m going to do now. I say I’m not too sure, I just know I’m sentenced to another 4 years. That’s a total of 8 years in this mall-center marble-pillared hellhole. I think I’m crying.
Suddenly, the single first-person p.o.v. narrative turns into one single first-person p.o.v. plus several third-person p.o.v.s. Not only is MY story being narrated, but also there are several other stories being told.
We’re all escaping again.
As I’m typing this, my memory is slipping. I even forget which people they were. I can’t exactly remember why or how we’re escaping again, but it’s happening. The walls are crumbling, people are zipping left, zooming right, zapping down.
Scene change.
I see the story of a young man. Why he is imprisoned with hundreds of girls, I don’t know. Anyway, he’s escaping. All I remember is a countryside scenery, a long road, and a minivan. He’s driving it. I’m about 30 yards away.
I’m racking my brain for the rest. It’s about that time when there’s almost nothing left of it. It’s rapidly become a wispy remnant of the craziest time of your life.
Next scene.
I’m about depleted of these memories. All I remember now is a library scene. It’s the climax, and we’re all gathered around a lady? A man? I have the confused look on my face. There is a twist in the plot, I know. I’m utterly shocked at the conclusion. Someone rips his/her face off to reveal another one, another sex, another being. Then the crushing of a skull. With that, all of a sudden the books on the shelves turn blue, though not all of them. There’s a man, and he’s questioning whether the curse has really been lifted. Another man answers, “Yes,” and takes a non-blue book off the shelf, peels its jacket off, and reveals the inner blue flap. So, in fact, all the books HAVE turned blue, and it’s concluded the curse is really lifted. We’re all aghast.
Of course, my demolished memory doesn’t allow me to remember what the curse was, or why we were senselessly amazed at the blue books. Blue books… Yea. Nothing. No reason, yet again.
I slowly spiral back to my body that’s encased in my bed. I’m back home. I wake up and waltz out of my room and into my sister’s. I always do this after a perplexing dream. I kneel over to her bed, and say, “I just had this crazy dream.” That’s always, ALWAYS my opening line. It’s bland, I know. Ironic, in fact. A bland opening line to the most stunning times of my life. Anyway…
I see my sister’s got a TV in her room. I’m amazed at the fact that my mom bought her a tv. It’s got a slightly teal-ish hue. Okay, it’s blue. It’s widescreen, but the size of it is miniature. Interesting…I’ve always cringed at my sister’s obsession for miniature-sized objects… The screen has great quality. The image is sharp. Interestingly enough, the color quality is deficient…
beep.
beep.
beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
Uggh….
Click.
And I’m back.
I’m sentenced to 4 years in prison.
The prison is extremely atypical, however. In fact, it’s SO atypical that as I sit here fully conscious, I am not believing how I’d known it was a prison. Its space is open and lavish, almost like the space of a mall. It’s filled with fluorescent light, red and orange colors, and huge marble pillars. The strangest thing about this space, though, is the absence of cells. There are no cells in this prison.
As a matter of fact, I believe I am held prisoner in the Charles B. Wang center prison.
I am with school friends in this prison, and all we do is roam, read books, stare. I don’t remember what we were staring at.
Anyway, I start thinking of a scheme to escape. I remember there is an exit in this Charles B. Wang prison that leads out to a parking lot. I’m conscious of the fact that there are prison guards dotted along the rooftop, but somehow I make it.
Next scene.
I’m in the backyard of my house, doing something quite active, but I don’t remember exactly what. Guards are flooding into the backyard, and I’m recaptured.
God, I totally forgot to mention why I’m in prison!
I’m sentenced to prison because we’re at war in Iraq; America needs women as well as men for the war. So, a group of us female students of Stony Brook University are imprisoned in a penitentiary smack mirroring the Wang Center because America needs women in Iraq. That’s the reason. Nothing else in between. If you think about it, it’s one motherfucking hell of a nonsense reason. It doesn’t add up. They need us for war, so they pen us up in jail? So I’m pissed. That’s why I escaped.
Oh, a key point!
I see Stephanie Min.
Again.
For the 14 millionth time.
She’s angry with me. She’s upset.
I’m not sure why she’s mad at me, but I believe it’s because I’m in jail.
A crucial reason, if not a better reason than the last, to escape. To be free, so I could finally settle our squabble.
But then I’m back.
I’m back in jail, and a friend saunters towards to me. She asks me what I’m going to do now. I say I’m not too sure, I just know I’m sentenced to another 4 years. That’s a total of 8 years in this mall-center marble-pillared hellhole. I think I’m crying.
Suddenly, the single first-person p.o.v. narrative turns into one single first-person p.o.v. plus several third-person p.o.v.s. Not only is MY story being narrated, but also there are several other stories being told.
We’re all escaping again.
As I’m typing this, my memory is slipping. I even forget which people they were. I can’t exactly remember why or how we’re escaping again, but it’s happening. The walls are crumbling, people are zipping left, zooming right, zapping down.
Scene change.
I see the story of a young man. Why he is imprisoned with hundreds of girls, I don’t know. Anyway, he’s escaping. All I remember is a countryside scenery, a long road, and a minivan. He’s driving it. I’m about 30 yards away.
I’m racking my brain for the rest. It’s about that time when there’s almost nothing left of it. It’s rapidly become a wispy remnant of the craziest time of your life.
Next scene.
I’m about depleted of these memories. All I remember now is a library scene. It’s the climax, and we’re all gathered around a lady? A man? I have the confused look on my face. There is a twist in the plot, I know. I’m utterly shocked at the conclusion. Someone rips his/her face off to reveal another one, another sex, another being. Then the crushing of a skull. With that, all of a sudden the books on the shelves turn blue, though not all of them. There’s a man, and he’s questioning whether the curse has really been lifted. Another man answers, “Yes,” and takes a non-blue book off the shelf, peels its jacket off, and reveals the inner blue flap. So, in fact, all the books HAVE turned blue, and it’s concluded the curse is really lifted. We’re all aghast.
Of course, my demolished memory doesn’t allow me to remember what the curse was, or why we were senselessly amazed at the blue books. Blue books… Yea. Nothing. No reason, yet again.
I slowly spiral back to my body that’s encased in my bed. I’m back home. I wake up and waltz out of my room and into my sister’s. I always do this after a perplexing dream. I kneel over to her bed, and say, “I just had this crazy dream.” That’s always, ALWAYS my opening line. It’s bland, I know. Ironic, in fact. A bland opening line to the most stunning times of my life. Anyway…
I see my sister’s got a TV in her room. I’m amazed at the fact that my mom bought her a tv. It’s got a slightly teal-ish hue. Okay, it’s blue. It’s widescreen, but the size of it is miniature. Interesting…I’ve always cringed at my sister’s obsession for miniature-sized objects… The screen has great quality. The image is sharp. Interestingly enough, the color quality is deficient…
beep.
beep.
beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
Uggh….
Click.
And I’m back.
3. Feminine Cogitation
Open. I swear. I say, “OPEN!”
Close. Clothes. Period.
Lots of it. Do you see them?
Oo!
They’re lost. Lost and gone. Gone from peace, to peace, with peace.
Filling, like greasy food. One bite and you’re pregnant, it’s easier than fucking.
One in, one down. One up, one died.
One found.
Where did you find it?
Completing my thought.
What’s the address?
My chest, 1/3 down my body, Hometown, NY.
Lead forth.
Do you get it?
Of course, your heart has a brain.
It thinks for itself.
Exactly.
Boomboom, thump. Boomboom, clunk.
Who’s there?!
There, as in Far Away?
Yes.
Everyone else.
Except one?
Yes.
You?
No.
Me?
No.
Love?
Yes.
Ah….
I see.
Close. Clothes. Period.
Lots of it. Do you see them?
Oo!
They’re lost. Lost and gone. Gone from peace, to peace, with peace.
Filling, like greasy food. One bite and you’re pregnant, it’s easier than fucking.
One in, one down. One up, one died.
One found.
Where did you find it?
Completing my thought.
What’s the address?
My chest, 1/3 down my body, Hometown, NY.
Lead forth.
Do you get it?
Of course, your heart has a brain.
It thinks for itself.
Exactly.
Boomboom, thump. Boomboom, clunk.
Who’s there?!
There, as in Far Away?
Yes.
Everyone else.
Except one?
Yes.
You?
No.
Me?
No.
Love?
Yes.
Ah….
I see.
2.19.2009
2. A Tribute to Deborah Lee
Feeling, feeling
Full.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuull.
This huge! This wide. How long? Four tries!
I think, you eat. I smile, you eat. I see, you stop. You stare, eyes down.
Flowing arms, movements are clear.
Purpose is right, right on the dot.
Us humans are left to clean up the grot.
Rhyming? Why this?
I have a true destiny.
To have a love baby.
So eat?
Yes, eat.
To love?
Yes, I love.
We love, we love, we love, we love, we love, we love.
This is the game, the game of repeat.
Repeat a cycle, and you fix eternity.
Oops, a burp. Have I loved enough?
Nope, just means I've got room for more.
Bring it! I want it! Romance, Reading, Dining and Wining.
Whining?
Nope, there's no more room. The line is full.
By the way, your stomach is too.
Right, left. Of course.
Are we done?
We are done.
Check, please.
Full.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuull.
This huge! This wide. How long? Four tries!
I think, you eat. I smile, you eat. I see, you stop. You stare, eyes down.
Flowing arms, movements are clear.
Purpose is right, right on the dot.
Us humans are left to clean up the grot.
Rhyming? Why this?
I have a true destiny.
To have a love baby.
So eat?
Yes, eat.
To love?
Yes, I love.
We love, we love, we love, we love, we love, we love.
This is the game, the game of repeat.
Repeat a cycle, and you fix eternity.
Oops, a burp. Have I loved enough?
Nope, just means I've got room for more.
Bring it! I want it! Romance, Reading, Dining and Wining.
Whining?
Nope, there's no more room. The line is full.
By the way, your stomach is too.
Right, left. Of course.
Are we done?
We are done.
Check, please.
2.18.2009
1. Know.
Mis amigos y yo.
Espana conmigo.
La juventud compiled.
To the far away land, a hand’s reach forth.
Complete despair for something in reach.
To Dunkin Donuts! For trusting in me.
But Momma too sweet! Too sweet for a momma!
The lighter awaits, the dread of a night.
Nights are too bright, stay away from the city!
Contrastively too, please visit at most once.
The whites of my eyes have turned into trees.
Why is that? I scream. Pleasingly.
Blind sight is possible, if only
You see.
Trust in me, this is what I perceive.
Perceive the cognitive.
Favorite!
String.
Pluck.
Stroke.
Pluck.
The chicken?
No.
My pick.
……
My pick….
My pick?
Yes, MY PICK!
Pick up your burdens!
Flick that BIC!!
Do you taste it?
It’s bluey.
Trust in me.
Long? No.
Short.
Hell Yea.
SHORT!
SHORT?
SHORT.
SHORt.
SHOrt.
SHort.
Short.
Very, very, very short.
The End.
Espana conmigo.
La juventud compiled.
To the far away land, a hand’s reach forth.
Complete despair for something in reach.
To Dunkin Donuts! For trusting in me.
But Momma too sweet! Too sweet for a momma!
The lighter awaits, the dread of a night.
Nights are too bright, stay away from the city!
Contrastively too, please visit at most once.
The whites of my eyes have turned into trees.
Why is that? I scream. Pleasingly.
Blind sight is possible, if only
You see.
Trust in me, this is what I perceive.
Perceive the cognitive.
Favorite!
String.
Pluck.
Stroke.
Pluck.
The chicken?
No.
My pick.
……
My pick….
My pick?
Yes, MY PICK!
Pick up your burdens!
Flick that BIC!!
Do you taste it?
It’s bluey.
Trust in me.
Long? No.
Short.
Hell Yea.
SHORT!
SHORT?
SHORT.
SHORt.
SHOrt.
SHort.
Short.
Very, very, very short.
The End.
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