MindBlabs

67. Sarah, The Winter Is Upon Us.

2010-12-25T21:34:00.002-05:00

Sweet.
Talk about variums of spare ribs, Chinese style. Thinking hard about food and combination, lean meat in soup. Hearing the voice resonate from a familiar body,
One that I see so clearly behind me.
Grinding sounds, pondering its source. The body behind me!
I think, what’s next to think?
You’re welcome boo. I try to answer you back in voice but instead it’s spoken through my fingers. I wish you can hear my words as I type, but soon your wonder will turn to clarity.
Do you see what’s near? In the distance covered by the possibility of a white blanket, a security so piercing.
Wait until the sun comes up and the blanket will melt off the earth’s skin. You heard me. It’s going to flow away, away, away like a river so wispy.
My nails are short, sharp, shark-like. I use the lack of them to protect the surfaces I touch. I am empathetic to inanimate objects.
I turned around and answered the question asked so long ago.
I turned around and I smiled to a face not pointed at mine.
I know her consciousness is facing me. It’s fine and dandy.
I turned to myself and passed out a smile like it was affordable.

66. I Love Me And My Life.

2010-11-04T11:22:00.005-04:00

I've come to a realization today that a slight case of vanity and appreciation for one's own life go hand in hand. It's impossible to love your life but have no esteem for yourself. You are your life. They are two sides of an equation. You = Your Life. You can't be vain and hate your life. Neither can you hate yourself but love your life.
I hypothesize that this can be analyzed mathematically.
Negativity in this case is represented by the symbol H (for Hate) and positivity is represented by the symbol L (for Love).
In order to correct this erroneous equation H(yourself) = L(
Wait...
Wow, in fact...mathematics is telling me that in order to correct H(yourself) = L(life), you have to multiply the former with H to cancel out the negation.
Interesting...

65. SNOWFIGHT!

2010-10-28T09:07:00.001-04:00

Small mirthful events are like snowflakes, and next thing you know you're running on top of a snowball having the time of your life. Little did you know, you're a little hamster at heart!

2010-10-25T10:46:00.003-04:00

I'm so sullen and depressed by your perpetual absence... Christiana, I fucking miss you and I wish you'd return my messages. Is that too much to ask for? I love you so much, babe. <3

64. Your Face Is White.

2010-10-25T10:42:00.002-04:00

As I watch you laugh in virtual motion, I wish you to be back. What else am I to do but look up in hopes of you living an afterlife? That you should be beaming down on me with serene, happy thoughts? So I look up in hopes of seeing your face, should it be in my mind only; just picturing your face should suffice. But all in all, as great as my imagination could be, all I'm really seeing is a white ceiling blurred by my tears.

2010-08-08T12:47:00.003-04:00

Christiana, girl, I love you and I miss you a hundred year's worth of missing.

63. I'm So Self-Pressured To Think Of A Creative Title!

2010-05-13T12:05:00.002-04:00

How is it possible to be unique in your theories of life when people have already been thinking for thousands of years? Whatever thought you believed to be clever and original must be an unintentionally recycled idea. Maybe you had looked at a rock one day and thought, "Life is like a rock." What are the possibilities that any one person, millennia or a second ago, had stumbled upon a similar rock and produced the same exact thought? Not to mention, if several billion people already exist now, then what is the number of people who existed before us? Add up all those minds from now and before, and your creativity has the most impossible enemy to overcome.

This is why I respect creativity; it must surpass an endless number of adversaries to exist.

62. Are They Questions?

2010-03-28T12:33:00.004-04:00

I have never thought so much as I am thinking now.

61. Inspired by Aviva Einhorn and Deirdre Burroughs.

2010-02-23T01:27:00.010-05:00

To whom do I write

These wispy lines, floating

Like mystic creatures

Beneath the surface of your mind?

I will call your name, so please respond.

I will hear your voice and come around.

60. Want.

2010-02-10T16:52:00.004-05:00

When white whirling winds welcome wishful whispers, we worry, wondering why we witness worlds without webs.

59. Burr

2010-02-10T16:34:00.004-05:00

Behold that which bears the burden of the blizzard; a bleached, boundless beauty.

58. The Lune and The Moon.

2010-02-08T10:41:00.005-05:00

Merely sane, I cherish the lunatics.

"A lune is a crescent-shaped figure formed on a sphere or plane by two arcs intersecting at two points."

But this is not what I seek.

La luna revela los locos.

Ah...

I look up to see the dark facade of day and locate its centerpiece.

We exchange longings.

I want its consistency. It wants my humanity.

On the hour of disguise, I raised my hands and offered a penny's worth.

Lie.

I balled it into a silvery sticky mess and targeted the bright hole.

What a relief! My reliable aim was reliably off.

There it is, I confess the truth.

This is how stars were formed.

On the fourth day, there was a great big

SPLAT.

57. To-Do List for 02/08/10

2010-02-08T09:46:00.005-05:00

1) Wake up.

2) Brush teeth.

3) Dress.

4) Water Forbidden Tree of Knowledge.

5) Trim AWB (Arbitrary Wild Behavior).

6) Feed Curiosity.

7) Walk Curiosity.

8) Fill water bowl for Curiosity.

9) Attend submarine classes.

10) Pick up medication for A(rrogance)D(esirably)D(iscouraged).

11) Meet God for dinner.

12) Read, retain, and recite excerpts from Closure.

-(1+2+3+4+5+6+7+8+9+10+11+12)-(-allthemomentsIdream) = Buzz Lightyear.

56. Let's Look Into The Future.

2010-01-31T19:25:00.004-05:00

Scary ghosts and banana peels.

Printed facts, wax and steel.

Forever and ever, my darling, my friend.

From here on out, I'll make amends.

55. A Sweet, Temporary Smile Is What I Got From You.

2009-12-23T21:39:00.005-05:00

This girl, I met her. We talked, I listened, I breathed and soaked her in.

What I realize now is that I don't want her figured out.

I want her left as a vague occurrence in my life.

Like a photograph fluttering in the wind; you don't try to understand how that came to be, but you really like how it floats and swerves, floats and swerves, floats and swerves.

54. Two Nonsenses Combined.

2009-12-22T03:05:00.004-05:00

What is this I hear, like footsteps in my ear?

What I see is fear; for madness I will cheer.

53. Nonsense.

2009-12-22T03:01:00.003-05:00

What is this I hear, like madness in my ear...

52. Nonsense.

2009-12-22T00:19:00.002-05:00

What is this I hear, like footsteps in my ear...

51. It Was Me (Version 2).

2009-12-18T16:56:00.004-05:00

I turned around and there it was. My heart had slipped through my back and I hadn't even noticed. So I picked it up and put it right back in its place.

I woke up.

What a dream!

How ridiculous, that would never happen in real life.

I'd leave it behind and keep on walking.

50. It Was Me.

2009-12-15T22:41:00.003-05:00

I turned around and there it was. My heart had slipped through my back and I hadn't even noticed. So I picked it up and put it right back in its place.

This was a dream.

In reality, I left it behind and kept on walking.

49. Lose Inhibition For Esteem, An Acronym.

2009-12-01T10:21:00.002-05:00

I no longer share friendship with a certain someone. I miss her. I'm hungry, just woke up. Schoolwork, the death of me. This water goes down my throat like wet pristine air. I inhaled and I exhaled and I felt the anger come in and go out. J-i-l-l S-c-o-t-t, representing North Philly. The immediate sky around my skin is like a too-thin grey blanket you keep in the attic for backup. I don't want to be responsible, I want to lay all day and think all night. I want thoughts to flow through my brain like bottled soda on a conveyor belt. Unbroken staccato. Life throws rocks at me like I did something wrong and they feel like heavily buttered popcorn, some stick to my shirt. My roommate's snoring beside me and I stifle my laughs. It feels good to be alive.

48. Love Is A Thick Putty Of Passion That Makes You Really Itchy Around The Armpits.

2009-11-30T23:55:00.002-05:00

I'm itching to give someone my love. LOVE love. Not motherly love, or friend love. The thick putty of passion. I want to slob it all over that person's chest. I want someone next to me that I could touch with a finger and know that I've transferred over something so taboo it mustn't be delivered through speech. I want to have to sit at a desk for 4 hours, toiling over something great, and the first glance I make as I lift my head will land on that person in bed. That person. I'd like to wrap that person up in a golden silk blanket and leave just enough head space for me to caress as I lay parallel. I want to come home in silent anger from dealing with obnoxious authority and chance upon that person stuck in a funny awkward moment. I'd stand still for a breath's length. Then I'd crack a smile and then I'd snort and then I'd most likely start coughing. I want to want to cook meals for that person. I want to get into fistfuls of fights with that person already knowing that the peace treaty was drawn a long time ago, and that's the only thing that mattered. I want to look into that person's eyes and feel no fear of love.

47. A Dog Called Bandy, She Smells Like Doritos.

2009-11-17T23:13:00.002-05:00

Jen: "Ew Bandy, you smell (smile)."

Me: "You know, I don't know if I like dog smell, or if--"

Jen: "I like it, smells like Doritos."

Me: "Wait, did you say Doritos or Fritos?"

Jen: "Fritos."

Me: "Oh, I thought you said Doritos."

Jen: "Yea, I did. Her fur smells like Doritos and her paws smell like Fritos."

Me: "Oh."

46. I'm Out Of Breathe.

2009-11-14T14:15:00.001-05:00

Oh God

I'm

Late

Again

I have

To make

It or I

I shit

What, what time

How much time

Do I have left

Until I, I shit

The bus is

Leave

Ing

Without

Wait!

...

Wait! Don't

You don't

Know

This is it

Shit I

Lost

Another

Job.

45. I Really Love To Clean.

2009-11-14T14:10:00.003-05:00

This part's good.

Next.

This part's good.

Next.

This part's good.

Next.

Pick it up, throw it out.

Pick it up, tuck away.

This part's good.

Next.

Hang, fold, tuck away.

This part's good.

Next.

Up, side, down, side, up, side, down, side, up, side, down.

This part looks good, but I know the vacuum's not perfect.

What could I do but use what I have?

Next.

I see, within me, I feel, within me, nice.

Nice, so nice, so clean, so fresh.

I sit down and I pick up my guitar and I pluck a string and I feel nice.

44. So Long, My Luckless Romance...

2009-11-03T09:20:00.001-05:00

New song obsession: Almost Lover - A Fine Frenzy.

Late, again.

43. What's A Girl To Do?

2009-10-14T22:12:00.000-04:00

The world is spinning but I'm not a dreidel.

42. Vegetarianism

2009-10-14T12:40:00.001-04:00

"I'm not a vegetarian because I love animals, I'm a vegetarian because I hate plants."
- Shannon Lawrence quoting someone else.

41. Age Relativity

2009-10-06T11:59:00.001-04:00

"Old" is closer to death than "young."

Should I die tomorrow, am I young or am I old today?

40. Some Poem About School

2009-09-27T23:33:00.003-04:00

- My feeble attempt at convincing myself of school work.
- It was fun.

Turning around and around and around,
Churning about for the cue and the shout.
Sitting and waiting, clicking and playing
All the new seasons; I am misbehaving.

But thinking of times and moments of pleasure
Is making me rethink desires of leisure
Because it's this goddam diploma of mine
That's going to land me a six-figure shrine.

What have I got that is worthy of mention?
What's greater than saving or gracing the nation?
I'm here in my office chair.
I'm patiently taking care.
I'm dying to know if my efforts will make it there.

I stretch and I breathe;
I make sure I am free.
Homework will not be the quick end of me!

From now on I'll work on this moping about.
This effort of mine will be helping me out
At times I am most in the need of the green,
When rather I could have been serving the King.

So surely will I be a-turning and churning
To those goddam beats made by this silly meeting
Of students from all different parts of the world.
Knowledge is now what I'm struggling for.

39. Obsession With A Single Track.

2009-08-16T20:43:00.000-04:00

Therefore, I wonder what it says about me...
I tend to get obsessed with a single track.
And when I am in the moment of tracklessness, I feel lost in my world.
Current track with which I am obsessed: Beyonce - Halo.
Don't judge me for the delay.

38. The Sickness Of My Name According To A Second Party.

2009-08-10T01:24:00.000-04:00

"You share a name with a giant ball of fire in the sky that's been worshiped for millennia, so I think your name is pretty sick as well."
- Christian Santana

How fracking awesome. How fracking diddly-acking awesome.
Thanks :)

37. A Tribute To The Weeds That Teach.

2009-07-18T15:38:00.001-04:00

What is friendship but a dialogue that takes years to enfold?
When the dialogue becomes a monologue, friendship unfolds
Into two lonely worlds.
In this sorrowful event, there are frightening weeds
That twist and turn in directions unfathomable,
Impossible to predict.
Fistfuls are ripped away, an attempt of salvage,
But roots are invisible to the human eye.
Commence the heart and see what eyes cannot,
Grab the invaders with mightier endeavor,
Pull by the roots.
Save the dialogue, keep its shape enfolding.

36. Of All Things.

2009-07-17T22:05:00.001-04:00

What is a miracle if it makes sense?

35. Benjamin Franklin And His Fish.

2009-06-26T02:02:00.000-04:00

“I believe I have omitted mentioning that in my first voyage from Boston, being becalmed off Block Island, our people set about catching cod and hauled up a great many. Hitherto I had stuck to my resolution of not eating animal food, and on this occasion, I considered with my master Tryon the taking of every fish as a kind of unprovoked murder, since none of them had or ever could do us any injury that might justify the slaughter. All this seemed very reasonable. But I had formerly been a great lover of fish, and when this came hot out of the frying pan, it smelt admirably well. I balanced some time between principle and inclination, till I recollected that when the fish were opened I saw smaller fish taken out of their stomachs. Then thought I, if you eat one another, I don’t see why we mayn’t eat you. So I dined upon cod very heartily and continued to eat with other people, returning only now and then occasionally to a vegetable diet. So convenient a thing it is to be a reasonable creature, since it enables one to find or make a reason for everything one has a mind to do.”

- Benjamin Franklin, excerpt from Autobiography

34. Mom, Please Don't Leave Me, And I'm Sorry.

2009-06-16T21:15:00.000-04:00

What is that phobia called? When you’re scared to death that your mom will…well, die. You’re scared that she’ll drop to the floor at the most unexpected moment.
Whatever this phobia is called, I’ve been experiencing it pierce through my mind ever so often for the last few years. I find myself sobbing during class because I would suddenly have a gut-wringing sensation called Worry.
Today, my mom walked into my room at around 5pm, inquiring my desire for a driving lesson. She said she had time to spare, since our family was planning to eat out tonight. I said, “Yes Mom, yes of course.” I told my friend on AIM that I was going out for a drive, so he told me to be safe. I gave a quick “kk” and left the house.
Now I sit here with a mild headache. It’s not from getting my face bashed into the steering wheel. It’s from the overwhelming reruns of Regret. I replay the moment, over and over and over again.
I could have slowed down…
I could have breaked faster…
I could have spared the car…
What have I done?
I could have slowed down…
I could have breaked faster…
I could have spared the car…
Why did she ask?
I could have slowed down…
I could have breaked faster…
I could have spared the car…
What if she died?
What if she died?
What if she broke her leg?
What if she died?
What if she fell into a coma?
What if she died?
What if she died?
What if she died?
What if she died?
What if she died?
What if she died?
WHAT IF SHE DIED?
I wouldn’t know because she didn’t.
But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still going to fear her death until she really dies.

33. I Had Jimi Hendrix For Breakfast.

2009-05-31T11:41:00.000-04:00

My mom left me a plate of 2-hour-old scrambled eggs with sausage on the table this morning. It didn't look too appetizing, so I added a pinch of Bold As Love and a dash of Little Wing. It tasted like a meal for a king.

32. What Is It I Want?

2009-05-28T08:24:00.001-04:00

What is it I want?

In this walk that I walk,

In this peace

That I piece

Together with 99¢ glue from the 99¢ store.

I ponder the mosaic in front of me,

It's so full of magical colors, sparkly colors

Pieced together with 99¢ glue from the 99¢ store.

The harmony between each and every piece,

Between the red one and the blue one and the green one and the yellow.

To this I cheer.

I cheer to this wholeheartedly.

I dance in circles, I dance in zigzags;

I dance to this wholeheartedly.

I sing pleasurable notes, I make pleasurable beats;

I sing to this wholeheartedly.

I write to this wholeheartedly.

I laugh to this wholeheartedly.

I swim to this wholeheartedly.

I smoke to this wholeheartedly.

I cry to this wholeheartedly.

To my wonder,

Despite all the ways I've learned and evolved to this wholeheartedly,

I still ponder,

What is it I want?

31. Last Minute Nostalgia

2009-05-19T05:15:00.000-04:00

It's interesting enough to point out that the most you miss someone is the day before you finally reunite.

30. Win, Lose, Learn.

2009-05-14T16:27:00.000-04:00

You lose only when you do Nothing; when you do Something, you either win or learn.

29. Controlled Errors

2009-05-12T12:43:00.001-04:00

Not many people are aware of the fact that we can choose which mistakes to make.

28. I'm Going To Die From A Bladder Infection.

2009-05-07T21:58:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I hold in my pee even at home. I think that's where most of my scars came from--bumping into things while trying to run to the bathroom all the time...

27. Take Your Roses and Walk. (Version 2)

2009-05-04T21:08:00.000-04:00

Forgiving your nemesis is like walking through a 200 mile-long path adorned with rose bushes. When you're walking through it, though, remember to pick the flowers, not the thorns; painful memories will make it seem effortless to do otherwise.

26. Take Your Roses and Walk.

2009-05-04T20:45:00.000-04:00

Forgiving your nemesis is like walking through a 200 mile-long rose bush. When you’re walking through it, though, remember to collect the flowers, not the thorns. Otherwise, you’ll end up more torn than when you had entered.

25. A Circle, But A Spiral.

2009-05-02T12:16:00.000-04:00

Neglecting the past is a dangerous game to play. When you do so, you’re at risk of a fixed cycle, otherwise known as a two-dimensional circle. You've looked at this circle your whole life, seeing its line become darker, thicker, coarser. So, what if you never get to realize that this circle is not a circle but a three-dimensional spiral? You see, your whole life, you’ve looked at this spiral from the top surface, and this angle has only been showing you a circle that never seizes to bloat. You’ll never realize that this “circle” has more to offer than you thought it could: a point of origin, a direction. How will you ever learn why your line progresses the way it does? You’ll always believe in a fallacy, a two-dimensional world of circles. When will you ever see your majestic spiral?

24. To Know The Future...

2009-05-02T12:00:00.000-04:00

Why be afraid of what's sure to happen? Therefore, don't be afraid of Tomorrow. Don't be afraid of Love. Don't be afraid of Success. Don't be afraid of Failure. Don't be afraid of The Best Time Of Your Life.

23. Oh Praised Be The Mornings!

2009-04-10T09:39:00.000-04:00

Every morning, I have 3 alarms set in intervals of 5 minutes. I move my half-dead body into the bathroom to take a piss, and then I heat up the water on the stove. Then, I proceed into the living room to carry out my morning ceremony: idolizing my cup of coffee, my one or two cigarettes, and my big, lunky headphones. My ass will not cease contact with that couch until (a) my mug is empty, (b) I've smoked my cigarette(s), and (c) the last song I'm listening to finishes.

22. My Name

2009-03-25T10:32:00.000-04:00

Today I suddenly realized how funny my name sounds in English.

I'm sitting in my (host) couch on a sunny, Wednesday afternoon. I'm having my morning coffee/music/cigarette trio.

I'm thinking about this dude, Joe, that I met with Dan Ha. We had gone for dinner two days ago, and then for breakfast the next day. I'm thinking how I'd just rejected his invitation to a day at the beach (because I'd preplanned a day of work) and dinner (because I'd felt I hadn't eaten at (host) home for a while).

Then I'm thinking about the concepts of being there for people you'd just met, and for people you'd known for a while.

Then I'm remembering this dude, Mike, whom I've met a couple of times--twice for smoking, many times in class.
I remember our grammar professor would call him Miguel because it's the Spanish equivalent to "Mike."
Then I'm wondering, 'Does Mike find it weird, strange, or offensive that the professor calls him Miguel? It's like calling a Native American kid "Wind of the Mountaintops" because that's what his name translates to in English.'
I'm also thinking it must be weird for the professor to call him Mike because they don't have that name in Spanish.

THEN, I'm thinking it must be maaad weird for English-speaking people to call me Sun.
I'm thinking of how someone would picture the sun in all its glory when I say my name.

BAM!

I suddenly fully realize that my name is the strangest thing for an English-speaking person!

Finally, for the first time in 20 years!!!

I'm laughing out loud, in my pj's, in the middle of my empty living room, at 3 in the afternoon.

21. Mi Espíritu

2009-03-23T11:11:00.000-04:00

¡FUEGOOOO!
FIRE!
¡FUEGOOOO!
FIRE!
¡FUEGOOOO!
FIRE!
¡FUEGOOOO!
FIRE!
¡FUEGOOOO!
FIRE!

20. A Swirling Revelation

2009-03-23T10:51:00.003-04:00

Staring into white sheets of Thought,
New awakenings, sheer serenity.
Count from then to now, numbers past infinity.
1, 2, a free score.

It's what you learn that's more
than caring for what you've lost.

19. Stress

2009-03-21T19:23:00.000-04:00

Two packs of cigarettes and two shots of espresso--that's what anxiety tastes like.

18. Is Your Own Death Real To You?

2009-03-19T17:36:00.004-04:00

Q1. Is your own death real to you?

Q2. What is considered real?
Something is real if it happens in the lives we live. Rocks are real to us because they physically exist in our lives. Thoughts are real to us because they are thought within the lives we live. Heaven is not real to us because it did not happen in our lives, although we may believe it to be real for religious reasons. Dinosaurs are not real to us because they did not exist in our lives, but we believe them to be real because we have their remains. WWI is not real to us because it did not occur in our lives, but we believe it to be real because we have footage and testimonies.

Q3. How does perspective play a role in the value of “real?”
Example scenario: Bill saw Joe kill Mandy’s brother Steve. Bill, Joe, and Steve were there at the time of Steve’s death, but Mandy was not. To Bill, the murder of Steve happened in his life because he witnessed the event. Therefore, the death of Steve is real to Bill. To Mandy, however, it did not happen in her life because, technically, at the time of Steve’s death, Mandy had no awareness of the occurrence. Therefore, the death of Steve is not real to Mandy. However, she could believe through reasoning that it is real when she sees Joe’s bloody hands and the dead body of Steve.

Q4. Was the death of Steve real to Steve?
The death of Steve is real to Bill and Joe because it happened in their lives. However, for Steve’s death to be real to Steve, it must occur in his life. Factually speaking, Steve was not alive at the time of his death. Therefore, Steve’s death did not occur in Steve’s life. Therefore, Steve’s own death is not real to him.

Q5. What is the underlying meaning of this logic?
Everyone’s death is real to you except yours. You must still be living while your death occurs for it to be real to you. Therefore, your own death does not exist in your world because you cannot die while you are still living. Technically, YOUR OWN DEATH IS NOT REAL TO YOU.

17. Purity

2009-03-06T19:12:00.000-05:00

When a baby stares at you as you pass by on the streets--that's what innocence looks like.

16. Joy

2009-03-06T19:01:00.000-05:00

When you have a big goofy grin on your face and you feel like nothing can take that away--that's what happiness looks like.

15. My Grammar Professor Won The Lottery.

2009-03-05T17:10:00.000-05:00

Today my grammar professor came back from our 10 minute break and she started freaking out, telling us she won the lottery, that her friend and she are splitting 600,000,000€. That's $350,000,000 for each person. She asks us what she should do with the money, she has no idea, she's so shocked. We're screaming, go buy houses, go buy an island! We're shocked beyond belief ourselves! Buy a mansion! Give money to your family! She keeps asking, what else, what's your advice? 10 minutes before class ends, she makes a list of all the command verbs we used. She corrects them, saying we were horrible with our verb conjugations. Apparently she acted out a lottery win to get us to use imperative form for Spanish verbs. I have never been so badly played in my life.

14. How To Chain-Smoke

2009-02-23T09:14:00.000-05:00

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.

13. Why Are You Holding Your Breath?

2009-02-23T09:13:00.000-05:00

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.

12. Worldly Connections

2009-02-23T09:12:00.002-05:00

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

2009-02-23T09:12:00.001-05:00

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!"

10. Thinking Of Nothing

2009-02-23T09:10:00.002-05:00

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.

9. The Worth Of Today

2009-02-23T09:10:00.001-05:00

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.

8. She

2009-02-23T09:09:00.000-05:00

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

2009-02-23T09:08:00.000-05:00

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.

6. My Green And Your Blue

2009-02-23T09:06:00.000-05:00

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.

5. A Ridiculous Monologue

2009-02-23T09:04:00.000-05:00

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.

4. So I Start Off In Jail

2009-02-23T08:45:00.000-05:00

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.

3. Feminine Cogitation

2009-02-23T08:34:00.001-05:00

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.

2. A Tribute to Deborah Lee

2009-02-19T12:34:00.000-05:00

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.

1. Know.

2009-02-18T14:06:00.000-05:00

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.