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Tuesday, August 31, 2004

My friends

friend 1:
you really pissed me off today
you can't take it when someone else has a different opinion
in your mind there's your opinion and a wrong opinion
you're a spoilt princess and have an aboslutely skewed vision of the world
you're way too harsh with people.. they're either with you or against you.. get over it theres a middle ground
don't think you know everyone and everything.. you really don't
you should appreciate lives of people who aren't so pampered, spoilt, materialistic and (it hurts to say it) shallow
recognize yourself?

friend 2:
i gave up waiting for you to be the friend i expected you to be
it was somewhere in the middle of those expected phone calls and the missing sence of fun and adventure
the chip on your shoulder insecurity complex really doesn't hurt either
we had so much together.. thats all we have now.. memories.. you're not genetically built to understand me or be like me or hang out with me
i'm not going to try to return your calls now
you're five years too late
recognize yourself?

friend 3:
i don't know how you managed to make it to number 3, it's kind of like the low burn approach you have to life... failing most of your courses.. being the shadow friend... silently sitting in the background of every conversation...
slowly coming up the ranks when there were missing gaps
we've never had a conversation where we've understood one another
we've never watched a movie unless i'm in the mood for a dumb chick flick
you seem to have such little expectations out of life i don't know if i should pity you or envy you
recognize yourself?

Saturday, August 28, 2004

why the hell? am i?

why the hell are all of you so shallow, pretentious and materialistic?
why the hell can do I look at you and see all our snotty, fuzzy adolescent faces and get annoyed
why the hell do I wish that I could be dumb and stupid like I was ten years ago and be part of your crowd or desperately want to be anyway
why the hell can’t I have a normal conversation with any of you?
why the hell do we have to try to yell over deafening speakers and ask about out jobs when none of us could give a flying fuck about what we’re talking about anyway
why the hell must I end up dancing with you when I don’t even know anything beyond your name?
I don’t even like dancing
I don’t even like you
why the hell do I sit with fifteen of you and still feel alone
why the hell do I feel fat, poor, badly dressed and middle class when I’m sitting with all of you?
why the fuck do I hate you and still continue to hang out with all of you
am I stupid masochistic and absolutely brain dead?
am I that desperate to have a life?
am I that desperate to pretend that I have friends? I have friends
other deeper more meaningful friends
they’re just not friends like all of you

Friday, August 27, 2004

INVICTUS by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Monday, August 16, 2004

other side of the fence

I step outside, and immediately wish I hadn't. The wind knifes through my clothes, cutting through flesh muscle and bone and slicing my soul to ribbons. I take a step backwards in defense, taken aback as always by the bewildering ferocity of the winter in this strange city. Every ounce of energy cringes away trying to hide behind the clothes barrier, bruising with failure. My eyes are about to water, my nose immediately numb. I already have to pee. I put my head down and scurry across the paths, mind intently fixed on the centrally heated auditorium that awaits me.
It's the only thing gets me to actually walk all that way.
Winters are miserable sometimes, despite the inner awe I always have because of my temperate weather childhood.

grazing on home turf

I try to sit comfortably, but the heat is unbearable. Sweat trickles down my back, a moist sheen covers my face, every breath brings about longing for a cold cold pool to knife into.
I stand near the window, the frog sounds deafening. I bang the shutter, hoping to scare away some of the creatures. The obstinate chirping and croaking continues.
A faint breeze from some sail miles away makes its way to my sweating forehead. I close my eyes and can only pray for winter.


sitting in front of the glow of the familiar screen an unfamiliar lifetime away
trying to keep it quiet
snores rustle the silence
the clacking of this small keyboard unfamiliar to my ears
as strange as the conversation I am having with a person I do not ever remember talking to
in my adult life
how bizarre
I look beyond the glow.. and in the shadows leaps an age old fear of objects animating in the night time
a fantastic momentary vision of an umbrella leaping and spearing my throat
blinked away
something familiar at last
unwanted yet strangely welcome
strange strange strange