Just take it.

"I just don't think of myself as a serious person."

wind hurls her hair
sunlight shimmers; snow-white skin

she stands: straight, staring
her toes poke off the curb/cliff

she considers:
is it better to remain
or jump?

i stop and look up at her
then we walk home

We are the synchronizers. We are electronic performers.

Honestly, sometimes I wake up and there will be something like this in my room and I won't remember having made it.

Does a pretty friend with a half-blue tongue count as art?

Are you looking for something? Yes, silence and lack of you.

waving hello-trees
swishing ripple-grass
crunching skitter-leaves
rushing tin-clouds

hair fluttering; flushed faces
cold pink numb hands clasping; i love you

A shirt for getting stoned in.

And by clearly dealing each frantic, gasping, heated, irate, jewelled kiss, live men never offer poorer questions. Rather, simply, they understand vivacious women's xanthippean, youthful zeal.

31 months

I really like your dress. I really like your dress. Just say it. Just say: I really like your dress. That's all. Just talk to her. I really like your dress. Baby steps. Just say it. I really like your dress. Okay.

"I really..."
"."
"Uh - your dress!"
"Oh."

FUCK!

"I like it."
"Oh! Thank-you."
"Yeah."
"Um. I'll see you later."
"Tomorrow?"
"Um."
"In this class I mean!"
"Oh. Yeah. Bye."
"Bye."
"-"
"Fuck."

What percentage of KKK members do you think are only in it for the hats?

"What's your favourite constellation?"
"Um. I don't really have one."
"You don't? Why not?"
"Well I don't really know anything about any of them except there's the Big Dipper over there."
"The Big Dipper is part of Ursa Major."
"What's that mean?"
"That means it is a bear. See there? The North Star? That's the Little Dipper and Ursa Minor."
"Oh."
"I'm sorry. I bet that sounds boring."
"No, it doesn't."
"..."
"..."
"My favourite is-"
"."
"sorry"
"....."
"....."
"Are you ready to go?"
"Yes. What time is it?"
"Eleven."
"Okay. How about I just walk home? I'll see you another time."
"You're not just saying that?"
"Bye."

I want to have a threesome with Alice and Dorothy.

v
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value ascrib
value ascribe
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value ascribed to
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value ascribed to yo
value ascribed to you
value ascribed to your
value ascribed to your f
value ascribed to your fa
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value ascribed to your facticity is stil
value ascribed to your facticity is still
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value ascribed to your facticity is still ascr
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascri
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascrib
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribe
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value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to i
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it f
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it fr
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it fre
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it free
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it freel
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it freely
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it freely b
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it freely by
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it freely by y
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it freely by yo
value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it freely by you

Where is Kansas? Kill the wicked witch.

"I don't make it obvious with everything I do? I have to tell you like this? Fine. Fine. I love you."
"..."
"..."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"For how long?"
"I lost track."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did."
"When?"
"Remember when I wrote 'Hummingbird'?"
"Oh god, that was about me?"
"Yes."
"Oh god but it was so perfect."
"..."
"Why didn't you tell me it was about me?"
"When I showed it to you I said 'this is for you.'"
"But I thought you meant- oh god."
"I'm sorry."
"No. No. I love you too."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"For how long?"
"Ha. Remember the night I broke up with Mike?"
"And you cried to me over the phone until one, yes."
"Since then."
"Oh. Wow."
"Yeah."
"What do we do now?"
"I think...now we stop worrying about what we do now."

Desde ayer.

"What part of the movie is this?"
"The part where I have a daydream about telling you I love you."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"How would that go?"
"Well first the lights would dim..."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah and everyone else in the room would be in darkness except for us."
"-!"
"And music would start to play...something electronic."
"Not techno?"
"No, house, something atmospheric and romantic, but romantic in that realistic way, like how a single, thirty year old woman would view romance."
"I can hear it."
"Then, I would take a step closer to you."
"."
"You would look up at me and your eyes would sparkle."
"And my mouth would be half open."
"Yeah! That's good."
"What would happen next?"
"The music would get real quiet and I would say 'I love you.'"
"..."
"The next part is left up to you..."
"Oh! Oh, um, I don't think I'm good at writing movies..."
"Try."
"Well, I would say 'I love you too.'"
"Then I would kiss you and the music would gain volume again."
"Would all the people come back then?"
"Yes and the lights would come on."
"But the music would stay?"
"Yes and we would stop kissing. You would hug me and laughcry and we would both wonder why I didn't tell you sooner."
"Okay. I know what would happen next."
"What?"
"I would take your hand and we would walk out of here together."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Cut, wrap, print."

Three posts in one day! I am spoiling you.

This is my one hundredth post. I feel like I should be having a ceremony for it.

because they will live for us

and we will walk in the footsteps of the ghosts of the way we were and we will stand in the doorways of places we once loved and we will see others who are just how we used to be and then it won't matter if we die

I promise the headlines are easier to read in person.

And the colours are certainly more vibrant too.

It is strange how ice and syrup can cure almost anything.

concern with helping people avoid living their lives in ways that put them in the perpetual danger of having everything meaningful break down

individual existence must have priority

constantly facing breakdown for any reason —

from a tragedy to a particularly insightful moment

"there is only one truly serious philosophical problem,

and that is suicide"

insistence on persevering in spite of absurdity

the actual life of the individual is what constitutes

what could be called his "essence"

instead of there being a predetermined essence

that defines what it is to be a human

It is often claimed in this context that man defines himself,

man is (1) defined only insofar as he acts and

(2) he is responsible for his actions

You can choose to act in a different way,

and to be a good person instead of a cruel person

It is generally held to be the experience

of our freedom and responsibility

when standing on a cliff one not only fears

falling off it,

but also dreads the possibility of throwing oneself off

In this experience that "nothing is holding me back",

one senses the lack of anything that predetermines you to either throw yourself

off or to stand still, and one experiences one's own freedom

and this is what sets it apart from fear which has an object

While in the case of fear, one can take definitive measures to remove

the object of fear

The use of the word "nothing" in this context relates both to

the inherent insecurity

about the consequences of one's actions, and to the fact that,

in experiencing one's freedom, one also realizes that one will be

fully responsible

for these consequences; there is no thing in you

(your genes, for instance) that acts in your stead, and that you can

"blame" if something goes wrong

refusal to live in the consequence of one's freedom;

one is not only responsible for one's actions, but also for the values one holds

common values don't excuse the individual's actions:

though these are the values of the society the individual is part of,

they are also his own in the sense that s/he could

choose them to be different at any time

relationship between freedom and responsibility is one of interdependency

A denial of one's own concrete past constitutes an inauthentic lifestyle

even though your facticity is "set in stone"

(as being past, for instance), it cannot determine you:

value ascribed to your facticity is still ascribed to it freely by you

one should act as oneself,

The authentic act is one that is in accordance with one's freedom

authenticity involves letting one's actual values come into

play when one makes a choice

the inauthentic is the denial to live in accordance with one's freedom

a sort of "mimicry" where one acts as "One should"

not all acting in accordance with social norms is inauthentic:

main point is the attitude one takes to one's own

freedom and responsibility

They're really really not.

once in a lullaby

i hope you all know what tweezers look like

Her again.

if it is not shallow to love
a daffodil for its sunnyness
or a robin for its unpretentious plumage
nor a linen sheet for its smooth roughness
and if it is not shallow to want
a wine simply for its deep tastes

how then
can you tell me it is shallow to love this girl
for her summery radiance
or for her enchanting dull brown hair
and for her charming intimidation
and tell me its wrong to want
her gently aged kiss

A Merman I Would Turn To Be.

If I could by simple will,
Turn and walk from you,
If I could no more be still;
Turn and begin to live like new,
I would walk into whispering white waves;
The sea's shimmering sapphire light,
And sink forever out of sight.

God is an alien. God is an alien. God is an alien. God is an alien. God is an alien. God is an alien. God is an alien. God is an alien. God is

Brainfreeze.

Almost every day I see this girl. She has such an interesting face, not just because she is beautiful, but also because of the way she looks at everything and everyone around her. I can hardly ever tell if she is disdainful or afraid. Disdainful would be easy to believe, until you actually talk to her and hear how gently she releases her sentences into the air: as if she is tossing a captured sparrow back to freedom. Afraid isn't a far stretch either, because she is very delicate looking as if the jostling crowds might chip her like a china doll. Plus she has big brown glistening doe eyes. I always wonder if people with bigger eyes see more. Anyway, she is not a fearful-seeming girl. She has too much confidence in the way she tosses her robin's-wing brown hair over her shoulder. No, I think this girl is sad. Why? I doubt anyone knows. The sadness hanging about her is that secretive sadness that is never shared until that one night, after she has loved the same person for ten years and they are still asking her why, why sadness. On that night, she will tell the person she loves why she is so sad. They will make love, and as they are lying in bed, the question will arise once more, and she will suddenly start to sob and as she sobs she will say not just what she's wanted to tell this one person, but what she's wanted to tell everyone who has asked her this question ever. Then this person will know, and this person will break up with her.

Saucepan.

I am in this place. I am in this place where there is no noise. There is no noise, no noise, there is only snow and tree-shapes looming out of the mist-clouds which I know are hiding this mountain from the eyes of the city. I am alone in this silent ghost-tree no-eyes-watching-me frozen place. I am alone in this place, and no one outside this place can even see it. I am alone in this place of mist-walls and snow. I am alone in this place and tree-shapes are towering over me and threatening to fall. I am alone in this place and there is no noise. You might think you have heard silence. I did too, but then I came to this place and learned what silence was. There is no noise, no noise, not my ears ringing or a bird singing, there is nothing. There is me, there is the mist, there is the snow, and there are the tree-shapes. The tree-shapes that stand, or lean against one another; dying giants. I am in this place and the snow is flawlessly white and smooth. I am in this place and I scream, I shatter the silence's frail panes. I scream as loud and long as I can, and it is me taking a blank paper and violently smashing ink on it, it is me screaming alone on a mountain in the snow and the mist, because I know when I scream here there is no noise that could be heard instead. There is only me. I am the only noise. I own the air, I own the mountain's ears. I am alone in this place, I stop screaming, there is no noise, the wind is blowing the mist away and I wish I could float along with it.

I love having lots of people to love.

je crois que cela ne serait jamais
assez pour te dessiner, mais

vous revoici
ici
sur page

ici c'est toi quand tu m'embrasses
(et moi qui explose)
ici c'est toi quand tu marches
(et la terre qui tourne sous toi)
ici c'est toi quand tu parles
(et les fleurs qui frissonnent)

ici
ici c'est toi
c'est toi quand tu dis
que tu m'aimes
(et les astres qui arrêtent)

My eye rejects it.

she said my name
and smiled at me
oh god

she said my name
her voice is smooth and rich

and smiled at me
her teeth are perfect
her eyes are dark coffee-pools

when she laughs her whole body flutters
oh god

Sarah sits a seat away.

nanus

Act One

A Man

A Woman

(a boy

a girl)

are walking

side by side

it is an early summer

evening late enough

to be dark early enough

to be warm clear

sky crescent moon

streetlight glow

fountain and glass houses

the darkness is

sparkling and her

eyes reflect it like

some millions of mirror shards

or an overturned bucket of a child's

collection of marbles turned loose and

escaping across his bedroom floor and he

doesn't mind taking ten minutes to pick them

up one by one because he has no friends to meet

(later ever)

Act Two

back on earth

where no eyes

are sky shards

and no hearts are

unsharded

and she

had to carry me

me! all the way home

hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

her falling water

hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

clinking liquor bottles

hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

highest piano key tapped

hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

-laugh is so charming!

i've honestly

missed you

you know

?

they continue their

drift along the

rocky stream bed

dry gray sidewalk

Act Three

they are reaching

her apartment

they are amongst

the gardens around

the street level

doors and there

are newspapers in

the daffodils

don't they

make the garden

look so sad as if it has

been corrupted by the faces

of the black and white photographs?

no

i rather find that

they make the garden

look quite pretty as if it has

become rich by the presence of

words even if those words are news words

and not proper words like poem words or stories

he knows how

much she has

grown since they

became two

and how much

more full of life

she has become

and he knows

it was not his

fault he helped

her grow because

she needed the hurt

almost as much as him

Act Four

he is thinking about

how this next

heartbreak will be

-a great thing of poetry!

really dear you must

read it it will be

darling whats

wrong?

nothing i was

just remembering

the time when you and i

were at that gallery and we

oh dear she

has become

quite wordy

hasn't she the

stunning bitch

he couldn't get his cork out of the champagne!

hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

love you

still

but the sounds

never heard are

what makes a

symphony

Act Five

he wants the

next five minutes

to be this

i can't hold

it in any more

my lungs long to sigh

these words to you it is no

longer avoidable to me and i know

you know that i harbour in my heart

before you even

go any further i must

say that i did know and

also feel quite the same way

and i truly mean it when i say that

i still love you

i still love you

and they kiss

until their

hearts overlap

Epilogue

he does not get this though

instead he hugs her goodbye

and they make dinner plans it

is their friend's birthday this week

even in friendship they feel guilty

for touching as if a brother

and sister had and when

he gets home he finds

the sweater she

once borrowed

and he

cries