Delegated Abstract Statements

Here's some abstract statements i have imagined different people i know saying to me. I'm not gonna say who goes with what.

"I'm a piece of cardboard floating in the ocean."

"I'm a dead pixel in the lower left quadrant of your computer monitor."

"I'm a mostly empty bottle in the backseat of your car."

"I'm a howling wolf printed on a used t-shirt."

"I'm a 1989 quarter on the floor of an arcade."

"I'm a supporting character in a recent George Lucas film."

"I'm a fortune telling machine at the amusement park."

"I'm leftover Asian food in the fridge."

"I'm a Looney Tunes tattoo on a middle aged man."

"I'm the last clear/white bear in your bag of gummy bears."

Consider yourselves objectified.

Old Rubbish

I wrote this first poem around December 2007 to (i think) my friend Kristin as some sort of weird joke. As you'll notice, the title of my blog came from this poem. My main goal was just to write a poem about a lonely old sailor who misses the sea. This is what came out. You can pretend there's deeper meaning if you want.

23 years. with minimal souvenirs. the scars. the intangible fading recollections. where once there was affection there is now longing. to feel her timber sway beneath once more. to feel the crisp breeze i adore. like a lover's kiss. so sincere. even now she calls to me. even here. locked away in a prison of land. i can still feel her hand reaching out. of nothing more do i dream than to run to her as she calls to me. but as fate has deemed. i left my legs at sea.

Also in December 2007, and also to Kristin... i wrote this second poem. It was late and i couldn't sleep. I wanted to leave her a comment, but couldn't think of anything. So i wrote this and said "Here's some pretentious writing nonsense." As you may have noticed, i don't take my own "poetry/writing" very seriously... at all.

open
seeking motion
with eyes veiled in despair
viewing the blue prints
of an existence on hold
lacking entity
empty
seeking vision
with eyes veiled in grace
viewing the brush strokes
of a journey unfolding
streaming life
align

i have no idea why i wrote poems to my friend Kristin, or why i thought that it was funny to do so. I think maybe i was hoping someone else that knew her, but didn't know me, would read it and think weird thoughts about me. And that was the joke. Me thinking they would take it seriously and think weird things about me. Which was funny to me, because i don't take it seriously. I still do things like that at all the time.

i have a weird sense of humor i guess.

Thoughts

i think i've grown bored of this blog.

My thoughts on various things.

• Tigers: danger cuddle.
  
• Sandwiches: tasty brilliance.
  
• Sleep: comfort therapy.
  
• Girls: overrated necessity. (see also "tigers" and "lists")
  
• Cantaloupe: delectable delight.
• Lists: conditional gratification.
  
• Swords: (see "girls")
  
• Cameron Diaz: detestable succubus.
  
• Octopi: peculiar piquancy.
  
• Kites: serene mirth.

I'm gonna end on Kites for now. That's a good one.
Perhaps i'll continue this another day.

Entry: 27-c

Why does the snow have to go and ruin my day?
My snare head finally broke yesterday, so i can't even go play the drums.
I don't wanna go buy a new one.

Star Command is the greatest thing ever. I humbly bow before its beauty.
(that won't make any sense to nearly all of you, so just don't worry about it.)

Pauly Shore

I finished reading Mr. Vertigo yesterday. It was good. Think i'm gonna read Post Office next.

I was at a show earlier... there was this hippie dude there... he looked like Pauly Shore. We made many jokes about weazing the juice and what have you. During a band i like, he got up in front of me on the stage to stand. This upset me. I had a great view and he weaseled his way in front of it. (all puns intended) So i asked him to move. I was pretty nice about it at first. Pointed out all the people who couldn't see a thing because of him. He wasn't very nice for a hippie. Got in a bit of an argument about it. Couldn't really hear what he was saying, but i'm pretty sure there was a "chill buuud-dy" somewhere in there. This nice girl next to me joined in. Actually, i kinda dragged her into it, but i apologized to her for doing that later. She was very kind. He finally sat down, and the girl and i felt kinda bad for being mean. So we made amends with the Pauly Shore doppelganger. Peace man! Weaze the juice! Not a very good story, but it was a funny night, and fun.
Oh, i forgot to mention he kept crowing instead of clapping. He may have been one of the lost boys, or maybe he just had too many Mike's Hard Lemonades. And a few Zimas.

You Idiot

Follow me on this.
... and keep in mind i use the term "idiot" loosely... very much so.
Age brings elements of wisdom. That's the control in the experiment of life.
Anyone in their twenties that thinks they're wise is an idiot. Anyone younger than that is automatically an idiot, regardless of what they think. Being 23, i feel quite wise for having realized how wise i'm not at such a young age. It's this very sort of paradox that makes me an idiot. If you look at yourself in your present state as if you're looking back at yourself from the perspective of the future you, you can't help but realize that chances are very high that you are currently looking at an idiot. Realizing this, i can only assume that one day i'll look back on the statement i just made and think that i was an idiot for saying such things. Of course, this is assuming that i will achieve the great accomplishment of continuing to grow as a person until the end of my days. If i do achieve that goal, it's nearly impossible for me to look at myself in my current state without thinking that i'm probably an idiot. To make matters worse, while i might think i understand that i'm an idiot right now, in reality, i won't know how much of an idiot i am and why until some time has passed and it's too late. In all fairness, the truth is that i'm going to spend most of my life believing i'm not an idiot at the time. Which perhaps only makes me that much more of a fool. Not that i really feel like i'm an idiot, but if i compare myself with the potential of what i could be in the future, i currently look like an idiot. I feel that this is all true of nearly everyone else as much as it is true of me. So... what is to be gained from this analysis? A few things. First, try to cut other people more slack when they seem like idiots, cause chances are high they're gonna realize how much of in idiot they were in due time. People have the ability to change quite frequently, and for that reason they deserve multiple chances to prove their worth. If you don't give them their chance, you could be denying them greatness. That sort of thing would make you the idiot. However, it's a tricky path. If you give the wrong person too many chances, that sort of thing can also make you an idiot. You have to use your best judgment to determine which people have the aptitude for change, and in what ways. Basically, it's very hard to not be an idiot at some point. Particularly when dealing with people. Which brings me to the last thing, and this is really the key... if you don't at least try to not be an idiot, then you're guaranteed to be an idiot.

So... here's to trying.

(wish me luck, i think i'll need it.)


(...and i'll do the same for you.)

Wienermobile

Last night.

I went to a few free shows in SLC. The sheer lack in population easily betrayed the quality of these shows. Hobo funerals summon larger crowds. My sympathies are with the band members. The night seemed all but lost, when the call came in.
A party. It's better than nothing.
At the governor's mansion? Will i be able to get in? My friends had left for the party before me. I arrive alone to the large fortress surrounded by iron bars. Dogs barking inside. Guard dogs perhaps? How am i to penetrate this stronghold? I see people inside; they appear to be well dressed. I am the street clothed commoner. I am the Mongol horde stripped bare. An outsider, seeking passage to a foreign land whether it is rightfully granted to me or not. The gate opens, a crowd of the privileged are leaving. Their exit is my entry. I've taken the compound, now to breach the building. Dogs. Be calm, they'll smell your fear. Circling the building, inspecting every entry. It appears i've not the touch to open such well made doors. A password perhaps? Dog barking again. It's getting closer. Just keep walking. This dog is chasing me down! Take a page from Steve McQueen, king of cool. Just keep walking. I do not fear you beast... Success. Hello dog, how are you? You're a friendly chap. I appreciate your blind kindness. Back to work. What's this? My friends are inside going up the stairs! At least i'm in the right place. Perhaps if i contact them... wait... another group of privileged? What fortune. They try the door... Not as privileged as you appear. I blend in and become one of them as we make the rounds. The private entrance; i had been to afraid to push the buttons near this door. The privileged do my work for me. At last, entrance granted.
I find my friends. Turns out the party is pretty lame. We leave shortly. My fun had been had.
Then, on our way out... what is this in the street? The Oscar Mayer Wienermobile! Suddenly i'm 9 years old. We hurry over to see if we can look inside. The driver lets us in. It's pretty neat. Then he gives us all Oscar Mayer wiener whistles. Funny how the simplest things can make you so happy. A whistle. A funny vehicle. What a night.
After that chance encounter, there were other parties, some dancing and fun to be had. I mostly just played my whistle all night. I didn't care if it was annoying. I didn't care if the things we were doing weren't that fun. I was 9 years old again, and i was happy. I still am. Now if you'll excuse me, i have to go blow my wiener whistle. (giggle)