The neighbors are putting up a new fence: all stone and mortar, very big, very expensive. Mom erected a fence of evergreens between their yard and ours years ago, but I guess they want something a bit more solid. Something a bit more true and timeless than life. Something like stones and mortar.
It seems that life consists primarily of building barriers and tearing them down, whether they be between ages or races or genders or cliques. Why are we so obsessed with keeping others out? Why do we not build pathways instead of walls?
I, for one, intend to seek out the weaknesses in your walls and drag them down. Brick. By. Brick.
Wednesday
Tuesday
An Eye for an Eye, Love
Chewing on a Sunday afternoon
with you sitting heavy on my brain
If we're not careful we'll be insincere-
and we're not really fond of mirrors
No wonder it's so easy to believe your words
and ignore your hands
No, wait, that's backwards.
It's not the smoke, but the fire that gets in my veins
and ties knots 'til I'm at her mercy again (and her voice is so low)
Before you know it you're belly up in bed
feeling like the fly that's buzzing at my window pane
The lady spider let you in and was polite as she sucked us dry
You scream 'cause (plucking flowers from your mouth) nobody wants to listen,
but don't you know that every flower has its time
and that every bouquet one day must die?
Put the shards in my eyes, make me see from your side
with you sitting heavy on my brain
If we're not careful we'll be insincere-
and we're not really fond of mirrors
No wonder it's so easy to believe your words
and ignore your hands
No, wait, that's backwards.
It's not the smoke, but the fire that gets in my veins
and ties knots 'til I'm at her mercy again (and her voice is so low)
Before you know it you're belly up in bed
feeling like the fly that's buzzing at my window pane
The lady spider let you in and was polite as she sucked us dry
You scream 'cause (plucking flowers from your mouth) nobody wants to listen,
but don't you know that every flower has its time
and that every bouquet one day must die?
Put the shards in my eyes, make me see from your side
Thursday
Speak!
Trying to capture ideas with words
makes about as much sense as
trying to capture the air used to
breathe them with a butterfly net.
makes about as much sense as
trying to capture the air used to
breathe them with a butterfly net.
Wednesday
Turn the Radio Up
On the way home from work today I passed a man headed in the opposite direction. He appeared to be in his forties. Probably around 350 pounds. And driving one of those power wheel chairs. You know, the kind advertised on TV by two elderly women who ride their chairs all the way to the edge of the Grand Canyon and sing out "HoverRound-!" (echo echo echo) I guess they'll take you anywhere so long as you've got the time.
It's a shame that this fellow doesn't have anywhere better to be than Podunk, USA. Then again, maybe he was headed off on some great adventure and I just happened to catch him at an awkward moment. He had his headlights on and an American flag flying from a pole, like the triangular flag that your all-American boy of the 50s had on the back of his bike.
Perhaps he is on his way up North. I mean way up North, to the land of igloos and dog sled teams and Northern Lights. It has been his life-long dream to participate in a dog sled race, and now with his new power chair he can do all that and more. He will not only participate in the race, he will win with record-breaking speed, all the time his little flag waving- a proud indicator of his heritage, a beacon to all American youngsters who dare to dream big: Go ahead, kids, supersize your meals!
Then again, maybe he was just heading towards the little diner on Main Street to shoot the breeze and chew his cud and engage in various other aspects of friendly country society over a big, home-cooked supper. Chair, flag, biscuits'n'gravy. Welcome to the South.
It's a shame that this fellow doesn't have anywhere better to be than Podunk, USA. Then again, maybe he was headed off on some great adventure and I just happened to catch him at an awkward moment. He had his headlights on and an American flag flying from a pole, like the triangular flag that your all-American boy of the 50s had on the back of his bike.
Perhaps he is on his way up North. I mean way up North, to the land of igloos and dog sled teams and Northern Lights. It has been his life-long dream to participate in a dog sled race, and now with his new power chair he can do all that and more. He will not only participate in the race, he will win with record-breaking speed, all the time his little flag waving- a proud indicator of his heritage, a beacon to all American youngsters who dare to dream big: Go ahead, kids, supersize your meals!
Then again, maybe he was just heading towards the little diner on Main Street to shoot the breeze and chew his cud and engage in various other aspects of friendly country society over a big, home-cooked supper. Chair, flag, biscuits'n'gravy. Welcome to the South.
Ode to E.R.
I wrote this ages ago, before I had the good sense to change venue.
I hate the rednecks that clog up the halls,
and the childish ramblings upon bathroom stall walls,
and the preppy people that think they're the stuff,
and the wanna-be thugs that think they're so tough,
and the cheap-ass computers in the media center,
and the freezing cold classrooms in the winter,
and the mice in the theatre, and cracked cement floors,
and the plants in the gutters, and rust on the doors,
and that the girls' locker room doesn't have lights,
and that so many people are packed together so tight,
and that so many students don't care to learn,
and that the teachers are jaded and show no concern,
and that the teachers that care can't get anything done
because most of their students just want to have fun,
and that the teachers that don't care let everyone pass
whether or not they learned from the class,
and that there aren't enough scissors, or rulers, or glue,
and that the football team gets the only supplies that are new,
and that you can't be yourself, or the least bit unique,
without being shunned and labeled a freak,
and that the "honors" classes are worse than a joke,
and that the cafeteria food makes most humans choke,
and that the bus' breaks squeal, and the roof clatters
if there's a faint breath of wind or a little rain splatters,
and that the coaches encourage their athletes to cheat,
and whatever is clogging the art room sink,
and that the teachers punish everyone instead of a few,
and that the SROs haven't a clue,
and that in the theatre the curtains are torn
the house seats are broken, and the carpet is worn,
and that students aren't given chances to show their potential,
so the loss of their talents is exponential,
and that the desks are bent and the tables are shaky,
and that on G hall several toilets are leaking,
and the classes in trailers, that often smell funky,
and the constant fund raisers 'cause the school doesn't have enough money,
and that "good kids" are pardoned while "bad ones" are screwed,
and for many more reasons I wish to eschew
this place in East Randolph that is hardly a school.
I hate the rednecks that clog up the halls,
and the childish ramblings upon bathroom stall walls,
and the preppy people that think they're the stuff,
and the wanna-be thugs that think they're so tough,
and the cheap-ass computers in the media center,
and the freezing cold classrooms in the winter,
and the mice in the theatre, and cracked cement floors,
and the plants in the gutters, and rust on the doors,
and that the girls' locker room doesn't have lights,
and that so many people are packed together so tight,
and that so many students don't care to learn,
and that the teachers are jaded and show no concern,
and that the teachers that care can't get anything done
because most of their students just want to have fun,
and that the teachers that don't care let everyone pass
whether or not they learned from the class,
and that there aren't enough scissors, or rulers, or glue,
and that the football team gets the only supplies that are new,
and that you can't be yourself, or the least bit unique,
without being shunned and labeled a freak,
and that the "honors" classes are worse than a joke,
and that the cafeteria food makes most humans choke,
and that the bus' breaks squeal, and the roof clatters
if there's a faint breath of wind or a little rain splatters,
and that the coaches encourage their athletes to cheat,
and whatever is clogging the art room sink,
and that the teachers punish everyone instead of a few,
and that the SROs haven't a clue,
and that in the theatre the curtains are torn
the house seats are broken, and the carpet is worn,
and that students aren't given chances to show their potential,
so the loss of their talents is exponential,
and that the desks are bent and the tables are shaky,
and that on G hall several toilets are leaking,
and the classes in trailers, that often smell funky,
and the constant fund raisers 'cause the school doesn't have enough money,
and that "good kids" are pardoned while "bad ones" are screwed,
and for many more reasons I wish to eschew
this place in East Randolph that is hardly a school.
Tuesday
How I lie with statistics
Based upon a convenience sample conducted by Calluna der Partitionoutsmallwoodedvalley (name changed for anonymity) and myself on the breezy afternoon of Tuesday, April 15, 2008, it has been observed that two out of three male road workers in Copper Atoll (also changed) are not registered to vote. A study by Edward Packard reported a total of 5,367,838 registered North Carolina voters in 20061 out of a population of 8,857,0002.
HO: There is no statistically significant difference between the proportion of male road workers in Copper Atoll who are registered to vote and the proportion of N.C. citizens at large who are registered to vote.
HA: There is a statistically significant difference between the proportion of male road workers in Copper Atoll who are registered to vote and the proportion of N.C. citizens at large who are registered to vote.
Rejection criteria: alpha .05, Zsc 1.96
p = 0.6061
q = 0.3939
n = 3
Sp = √((0.6061x0.3939)/3) = 0.2821
Zsc = (0.6666-0.6061)/0.2821 = 0.2145
Since the test statistic of 0.2145 does not meet or exceed the critical value of 1.96, there is insufficient evidence to conclude there is a statistically significant difference between the proportion of male road workers in Copper Atoll who are registered to vote and the proportion of N.C. citizens at large who are registered to vote. Based upon these sample data I fail to reject the null hypothesis.
1 http://www.cs.duke.edu/~justin/voting/upload/Precinct_size_report.doc
2 http://www.newsobserver.com/news/growth/census/story/840401.html
I am aware that the ridiculously small, exclusively male sample of road workers fails to meet two of the three assumptions necessary for a legitimate one sample z-test and that the small sample size was an influential factor in the rejection of HO. This is all in good fun. Statistically I must admit that there does not appear to be sufficient evidence to support the hypothesis that there is a statistically significant difference between the proportion of male road workers in Copper Atoll who are registered to vote and the proportion of N.C. citizens at large who are registered to vote, but in my heart I fully accept HA in all its truth and splendor.
HO: There is no statistically significant difference between the proportion of male road workers in Copper Atoll who are registered to vote and the proportion of N.C. citizens at large who are registered to vote.
HA: There is a statistically significant difference between the proportion of male road workers in Copper Atoll who are registered to vote and the proportion of N.C. citizens at large who are registered to vote.
Rejection criteria: alpha .05, Zsc 1.96
p = 0.6061
q = 0.3939
n = 3
Sp = √((0.6061x0.3939)/3) = 0.2821
Zsc = (0.6666-0.6061)/0.2821 = 0.2145
Since the test statistic of 0.2145 does not meet or exceed the critical value of 1.96, there is insufficient evidence to conclude there is a statistically significant difference between the proportion of male road workers in Copper Atoll who are registered to vote and the proportion of N.C. citizens at large who are registered to vote. Based upon these sample data I fail to reject the null hypothesis.
1 http://www.cs.duke.edu/~ju
2 http://www.newsobserver.co
I am aware that the ridiculously small, exclusively male sample of road workers fails to meet two of the three assumptions necessary for a legitimate one sample z-test and that the small sample size was an influential factor in the rejection of HO. This is all in good fun. Statistically I must admit that there does not appear to be sufficient evidence to support the hypothesis that there is a statistically significant difference between the proportion of male road workers in Copper Atoll who are registered to vote and the proportion of N.C. citizens at large who are registered to vote, but in my heart I fully accept HA in all its truth and splendor.
Thursday
Ashes, ashes, sheesh
You never know when some owl is going to fly into your car and run you off the road.
Humpty Dumpty felt very small.
Humpty Dumpty climbed up a wall.
None of his family, not one of his friends
got to tell Humpty they loved him again.
Little Miss Muffet
sat on a tuffet
wishing her life away.
She grew very old
and then she got cold,
now she's utterly rotted away.
Humpty Dumpty felt very small.
Humpty Dumpty climbed up a wall.
None of his family, not one of his friends
got to tell Humpty they loved him again.
Little Miss Muffet
sat on a tuffet
wishing her life away.
She grew very old
and then she got cold,
now she's utterly rotted away.
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