Ye Olde Archive Archived Posts: 2004-2009


Dr. Device

There’s a doomsday device in me,
like in Dr. Strangelove;
an inert part of me that rests
until a bomb is dropped.
Then it lashes out and destroys the world.

It’s a hateful, petty part of me.
It’s a wounded animal in the
pit of my stomach, knives out.
RAR — it’s my Mr. Hyde.

I have many, many failings;
I’ve a veritable horde of faults
and pettiness and cruelty.
I’m neither perfect nor wise.
I’ll be the first to admit it.

no life but that which we make

I’m doing the best that I can ….

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Familial Support

Thanks so much to all my family for the support they have given me over the past few weeks. I’m very, very blessed in this regard. You’re all super-awesome 🙂

My eyes turn west of late,
I remember a cheesy line from Shanghai Noon:
The Sun may rise in the east,
but this is where it sets.

Even so, westward lies new beginnings,
not an end. My purpose is not clear.
Like the lightning bug,
I do a courtship dance on instinct -
my thunder has always been too quiet,
and now: no need, no need, no need.

I try to contemplate useful things
that I might do if my butt could light up.
Gluteus Maximus Phosphorificus
Hmmm, a handy acronym that sounds like gimp.
I guess I’ll pass, look into more
lucrative super-powers — like,
retractable hair. I’d never have to worry
then about male pattern baldness.

I’m not sure whether I should
envy the lightning bug, or
pity him.
At least for him, courtship is only
a matter of whose butt
glows the brightest.

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Dance of the Lightning Bug

I hear a soundless thunderclap,
see lighning not against the horizon,
but dimly illuminating two inches …
how absurd.
Then I think, I mighty spectator,
cannot illumine my way out of a tin can,
and I am oddly jealous.

It’s a courtship dance,
a call to romance,
and I who’ve suffered my last chance …
think how absurd.
In truth …
I envy their simple majesty.

I who have no thunderclap -
quiet though it is -
and who have no lighning -
I woo with words and …
that truly is absurd.

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Ruminations of Monday Night

I don’t really know where to start. So I guess I’ll start …

… here. Mass confusion, upheaval. I’ve lost my sense of self that you’d become so integral to. I liked that me, I liked that us, I really, really did. And what now? Another long drive, alone, across the country, a repeat of not yet two years ago.

[added 6/30] Edited content. As a writer (of anything) I’ve never been good at editing. What I write is as good as chiseled in stone, for how much I seem willing to change it after. Not always the best policy, I begin to discover. Thoughts were harsh, and what was said was for me - a vent, a rant, a brash and hurtful way for me to get over thoughts I needed to get over. Had they been rational, I would have not held them back from you. As they were, I knew they were just words to get out my system, demons to exorcise. And they were hurtful, and they were mean, and that was never, ever my intention. They needed to be written because I needed to get over some things. On a night where my soul was hurting, I identified the hurt and I thrashed it — not the best approach. Please believe this apology, and that I never meant to be so cruel. [/added 6/30]

It’s 9:15 pm and you just called me on the phone. Voices hushed, like conspirators whispering in the corner, shoulders hunches and darting eyes. Or perhaps just passive voices drawn to sorrow and finality. “This is it then,” I say but not out loud, and your voice seems to nod to an unasked question, but calmly, slowly and I hear the bathwater quake in the background.

Thoughts edited … words withdrawn. Only to reflect the truth, never to hide it. I apologize for harsh words. My dearest wish now: that we remain friends.

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Beastie love

“All you spazzes and you freaks
Go and do your thing ’cause you’re unique
If it don’t hurt nobody else then
Don’t be afraid to be yourself and
Special dedication and so on
To all lifestyles, sizes, shapes and forms”

-Beastie Boys, All Lifestyles
To the 5 Boroughs

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