Friday
I want to heave the beams of a house where I will keep a garden and goats and and all of you safe, because even though all of you aren't yet born I love you, desperately, and lay awake at nights wondering whether this is the place for you at all. Because the world is harsh and dirty and cruel and you're so unafraid of all that because you don't know how badly they can break someone and how carelessly they will do so. It's easy to trip on the front path and skin your knee, but that's just the beginning of deeper and less fleshy betrayals of your trust to come. I can't change that about the world, though, or at least I can't change it in whole so I want to build our own secluded kingdom in pillow forts and rough-hewn hardwood, and I'll hang wind chimes on the porch and sing you to sleep each night over a snack of apple slices and keep fresh books on the shelves so that even on rainy days we won't be walled in. But I'm walled in now, with this and this and reluctance to forgo dreams that aren't my own. Until I find someone, anyway. Because I think we share this dream, and that's really all it takes.
Wednesday
your place
It is with the dry, crumbly red-tint loam
in summer shadows
beneath the decades old yellow bells
where their arms arch into a tangled ceiling
of branch and blossom and sunbeam.
in summer shadows
beneath the decades old yellow bells
where their arms arch into a tangled ceiling
of branch and blossom and sunbeam.
Friday
I brought the war, by Callista Womick
Repost from tiltfactor:
The following is a response, or perhaps companion, piece to Olia Lialina’s My Boyfriend Came Back from the War.
I didn’t go- none of us did.
They thought we went, but we didn’t.
Here.
We were here.
They didn’t think so, so they screamed at us
and shot at us
and wanted us to die.
“Maluus zebr” they said about
each of us in turn.
But here it is, I still have it.
And this- see the dust
still caked into the fibers?
I shouldn’t have it, they have rules about trophies,
but this is from when we were bombed
out of bed-
well, I wasn’t in bed.
I couldn’t sleep, so I was bare and wet
in the cement shower house.
I knew I was going to die.
I sobbed under one of those
crummy metal sinks, waiting for the walls to cave in
on me or a mortar to drop into
my lap or my crazy heart to just explode.
But they didn’t and it didn’t and it didn’t,
but maybe I still did. Die. I feel dead.
I’m not a man anymore.
Please don’t look like that.
I don’t mind.
I’m good at what I do.
I’m a killing machine.
I’m a god.
This is what they make of us, and they’re damn good at it.
I was in basic with this
scrawny, nerdy wimp from
Minnesota.
Ethan. Ethan Brown.
Most boring-ass name ever.
He’s a sniper now.
He could hit you right between the eyes-
equal distance from each-
from 2000 meters.
You wouldn’t hear a thing,
and then you’d be dead.
How about that scrawny nerd from Minnesota?
Babe, don’t cry.
Yes, I like your dress.
But you know I like green on you
so much better.
White, hell, I don’t know how tokeep anything white.
I would touch you,
but you look so beautiful.
My hands are dirty.
Yes, they are. Look at them.
LOOK AT THEM.
I’m not shouting.
Ok, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.
The dress is beautiful.
Then why are you crying?
…HIM?!
THEY KNEW?!
You didn’t write.
I wrote to you.
No.
No.
No.
…I remember.
I’m not sure than I can, either.
Not since.
Please don’t ask
me now.
I’m so tired.
Who knew that the dead slept?
I always imagined we would torment
the world of the living after nightfall.
Who knew that it was the other way around?
I’m tired.Visit the Last Real Net Art Museum for more works inspired by My Boyfriend Came Back from the War.
I’m so tired.
Here, hold me.
Monday
How to Brush One's Teeth
How to Brush One's Teeth,
Or: A Guide for the Thorough Cleansing of the Ingestive Orifice of Toothed Entities
This guide, hacked and compiled by Callista “Cally!” R.
Womick on 8 Jan 2011, is intended for the use and/or amusement of self-aware, physical
beings with visual capabilities and/or the capacity to extract and comprehend
information from a typed document that would like instruction on the proper
methodology for the cleaning of the oral structures known as teeth. The content
of this guide is meant to apply solely to the teeth of human beings (Homo sapiens), but identical or similar
procedures may be applied also to the teeth of a great many other versions of
being.
For the purposes of this guide, the following definitions are to be assumed for all uses of the terms:
For the purposes of this guide, the following definitions are to be assumed for all uses of the terms:
dirty: having developed a
noticeable film due to the growth and activity of bacteria; an unpleasant odor may also be
present
grip: to hold firmly, but not so firmly as to cause damage to either the subject or object of gripping.
problem: a situation innately negative and/or capable of producing negative or undesirable results. To mitigate, see solution.
proximate: within arm’s reach, as it applies to the individual reach of your own arm(s) or comparable appendages at the ends of which are hands and/or comparable gripping mechanisms.
teeth: a set of hard structures located in the ingestive orifice of many carbon-based life forms which serve the purpose of biting, rending, and grinding objects intended for ingestion with or without the intention of deriving nutritive benefit.
recognize: to become aware of; to understand; to know.
sink: a tub, bowl, basin, or other concave structure equipped with a drain at its base and at least one tap capable of producing a variable flow of water, the flow and/or temperature of which is controlled by the use of a knob, button, handle, or other interactive device.
solution: a series of steps, actions, and/or processes intended to negate and/or decrease the effect of a problem.
toothbrush: any one of several variations on a theme of non-organically occurring tools consisting of handles with dimensions of approximately 1.7 x 17.5cm x 1.6cm studded on one surface of one end (usually the surface with the broader face; for a length of approximately 3.5cm) with compact organic or inorganic bristles and generally marketed for mass consumption as such.
toothpaste: any of several variations on a theme on organic and inorganic pastes, creams, gels, and suspensions believed to have properties including but not limited to the whitening of tooth enamel, the eradication of bacteria, the prevention of bacteria, and the elimination of undesirable odor of the mouth and generally marketed for mass consumption as such.
grip: to hold firmly, but not so firmly as to cause damage to either the subject or object of gripping.
problem: a situation innately negative and/or capable of producing negative or undesirable results. To mitigate, see solution.
proximate: within arm’s reach, as it applies to the individual reach of your own arm(s) or comparable appendages at the ends of which are hands and/or comparable gripping mechanisms.
teeth: a set of hard structures located in the ingestive orifice of many carbon-based life forms which serve the purpose of biting, rending, and grinding objects intended for ingestion with or without the intention of deriving nutritive benefit.
recognize: to become aware of; to understand; to know.
sink: a tub, bowl, basin, or other concave structure equipped with a drain at its base and at least one tap capable of producing a variable flow of water, the flow and/or temperature of which is controlled by the use of a knob, button, handle, or other interactive device.
solution: a series of steps, actions, and/or processes intended to negate and/or decrease the effect of a problem.
toothbrush: any one of several variations on a theme of non-organically occurring tools consisting of handles with dimensions of approximately 1.7 x 17.5cm x 1.6cm studded on one surface of one end (usually the surface with the broader face; for a length of approximately 3.5cm) with compact organic or inorganic bristles and generally marketed for mass consumption as such.
toothpaste: any of several variations on a theme on organic and inorganic pastes, creams, gels, and suspensions believed to have properties including but not limited to the whitening of tooth enamel, the eradication of bacteria, the prevention of bacteria, and the elimination of undesirable odor of the mouth and generally marketed for mass consumption as such.
1. Have
an awareness of self as a spiritual, emotional, and/or (at the minimum)
physical entity.
2. Possess
teeth.
3. Possess
teeth that are dirty.
a. If
your teeth are not dirty, wait an amount of time between 1 (one) standard hour
and 24 (twenty-four) standard hours before reassessing the situation.
4. Recognize
that your teeth are dirty.
5. Determine
that possessing dirty teeth is a problem.
6. Determine
to fix the problem of having dirty teeth.
7. Be
or become aware of the processes involved in brushing teeth.
8. Determine
that brushing your teeth is a solution to the problem of having dirty teeth.
9. Determine
that brushing your teeth is the best available solution to having dirty teeth.
(For alternatives, see How to Lose a Fist Fight, Or: A Guide for Complete Failure in a Situation of One-on-One Combat with Emphasis on Ways in Which to Lose Life and Limb, Chapter 6: How to Take Shots to the Mouth for Maximum Tooth Loss; How to Die, Or: A Guide for Forgoing All One’s Mortal Obligations through the Forfeit of One’s Life; and Lysol: The Only Antibacterial Agent You’ll Ever Need.)
(For alternatives, see How to Lose a Fist Fight, Or: A Guide for Complete Failure in a Situation of One-on-One Combat with Emphasis on Ways in Which to Lose Life and Limb, Chapter 6: How to Take Shots to the Mouth for Maximum Tooth Loss; How to Die, Or: A Guide for Forgoing All One’s Mortal Obligations through the Forfeit of One’s Life; and Lysol: The Only Antibacterial Agent You’ll Ever Need.)
10. Determine
to brush your teeth.
11. Possess
toothpaste and/or (at bare minimum) a toothbrush.
a. If
a toothbrush is not possessed, acquire one.
12. If
the toothbrush and/or toothpaste are present and proximate in the same temporal
and physical plain as you, manipulate your dominant hand or comparable gripping
mechanism of choice to enable yourself to physically move the toothbrush and/or
toothpaste through time and space.
a. If
you do not possess a hand or comparable gripping mechanism, attempt to locate a
conscious, mobile, friendly entity that does and communicate to him/her/it that
you need and intend to brush your teeth and inquire as to whether it would be
possible to use his/her/its hand or comparable gripping mechanism to do so.
i.
If you are unable to locate a conscious, mobile,
friendly entity, wait until you are able to do so.
ii.
If the located entity does not understand your
communication, attempt again within the range of your available modes of
communication and a composite time frame equal to the sum of a complete circuit
of each mode of attempted communication.
1. If
after the range of time equal to the sum of a complete circuit of each mode of
attempted communication successful communication has not been achieved, abandon
attempts to communicate with this entity and return to step 12.a, exclusive of
the entity with whom it has not been possible to communicate successfully.
iii.
If the located entity understands your
communication and assents, proceed through the following steps substituting all
references to “your hand or comparable gripping mechanism” with “his/her/its
hand or comparable gripping mechanism.”
iv.
If the located entity understands your
communication and dissents, return to step 12.a, exclusive of the dissenting entity.
b. If
you possess toothbrush and/or toothpaste but they are not present in the same
temporal and physical plain as you, adjust your physical location until this is
no longer the case.
i.
If it is not possible to adjust your physical
location at this time, wait until it is possible.
c. If
another physical item precludes the use of your dominate hand (or comparable
gripping mechanism of choice) to physically move the toothbrush and/or
toothpaste through time and space, substitute another hand or comparable
gripping mechanism.
i.
If another hand or comparable gripping mechanism
is not available, discard a preoccupying possession to enable yourself to use
either your dominate hand or a comparable gripping mechanism to physically move
the toothbrush and/or toothpaste through time and space.
1. If
you are unable to discard a preoccupying possession at this time, wait until
you are able to do so.
13. If
necessary, move yourself and the toothbrush and/or toothpaste to a sanitary,
non-organic source of running water to which you legally, customarily, and/or circumstantially
have access. Ideally, this water source will possess a mechanism for the
sanitary and legal disposal of wastewater and possess all the characteristics of
a sink.
14. Place
your toothbrush on the edge of the sink, countertop, or comparable proximate
sanitary surface.
15. Should
you possess toothpaste, grip it with your non-dominant hand or comparable
gripping mechanism of choice.
a. If
you do not possess toothpaste, move directly to step number 21 (twenty-one).
b. If
the opening of your toothpaste container is regulated with a screw-on cap, grip
the cap with your dominant hand and rotate it counter-clockwise until the cap
and the container are separated.
i.
Place the cap on the edge of the sink,
countertop, or comparable proximate sanitary surface and proceed to step number
16 (sixteen).
c. If
the opening of your toothpaste container is regulated with a hinged cap, grip
the upper section of the hinged mechanism with your non-dominant hand and exert
force perpendicular to the line of contact between the two sections of the
hinged mechanism upon the protruding section surface which comes into contact
with the lower section of the hinged mechanism until the upper section is
transformed between -60 (negative sixty) and -90 (negative ninety) degrees.
d. If
the lid of your toothpaste container does not match any of the above-mentioned,
refer to the instructions included in its original packaging for guidance in
the process of opening the container and dispensing toothpaste.
16. With
your dominate hand or comparable gripping mechanism of choice, grip your
toothbrush by the end opposite that from which the bristles protrude, with the
handle approximately parallel and the bristles approximately perpendicular to
the ground.
17. Without
altering the grading or rotation of your toothbrush, use your dominant hand or
comparable gripping mechanism, and all local appendages (and components
thereof) necessary for motion, to move it through space along the shortest
available path the final destination of which will have its bristles located in
approximately the same x- and z- coordinates as the open hole through which the
toothpaste container will dispense its contents and approximately 2 (two)
centimeters lower than the y-coordinate of the same hole.
18. With
your non-dominant hand or comparable gripping mechanism which holds the
toothpaste container, gently squeeze the container (or follow applicable
instructions for dispensing toothpaste specific to your individual toothpaste
container) until a volume of toothpaste roughly equivalent to that of two
standard peas (approximately 0.4cm3 [four tenths of a centimeter
cubed]) is expelled.
19. Move
your toothbrush straight upward until the majority of the expelled toothpaste
has been transferred from the opening of the toothpaste container to the
bristles of the toothbrush.
20. Place
the toothpaste container on the edge of the sink, countertop, or comparable
proximate sanitary surface.
21. Rotate
the toothbrush handle 90 (ninety) degrees counterclockwise in the z plane.
22. Simultaneously
curl back your lips and move your dominant hand or comparable gripping
mechanism, and all local appendages (and components thereof) necessary for
motion, to move your toothbrush through space in the shortest available path
the final destination of which will have its bristle end located such that the x-
and y-coordinates of your front teeth are approximately equivalent to those of
the bristled end of the toothbrush while the z-coordinate is increased by just
enough to allow the toothbrush bristles to rest against the ventral surface of
your foremost teeth.
23. Exerting
an amount of pressure sufficient to maintain contact between the toothbrush
bristles and your teeth but not so great as to cause pain and/or damage to the
surrounding soft tissues, manipulate the toothbrush left and right along the x
axis in small increments, gradually moving left along the upper row of teeth.
24. Reverse
the directionality of step 23 (twenty-three) to backtrack along the path of
already-brushed teeth and visit the semi-section of the upper row of teeth not
yet visited.
25. Open
your mouth to allow an approximately 3 (three) inch high gap between the bottoms
of your top row of teeth and the tops of your bottom row of teeth.
26. For
each visible plane of tooth surfaces, adjust the location of the toothbrush
bristles to perpendicular to the plane and repeat the processes of step 23.
a. During
this process it may occur that an excess amount of saliva accrues; in this
event, pause the brushing process to expectorate into the sink or comparable
waste water receptacle, then resume the brushing process where it was paused.
27. Once
each visible surface of each tooth has been brushed at least once, move your non-dominate
hand or comparable gripping mechanism to the knob, button, handle, or other
interactive device capable of producing a variable flow of water and manipulate
it to produce a stream of water, ideally with a temperature within the range of
40 (forty) and 85 (eighty-five) degrees Fahrenheit.
28. Move
your dominate hand or comparable gripping mechanism to transform the bristle-end
of the toothbrush into the flow of water and hold it there until all visible
evidence of toothpaste and/or masticated particles have been washed away.
29. Simultaneously
place the toothbrush on the edge of the sink, countertop, or comparable
proximate sanitary surface and move your non-dominate hand or comparable
gripping mechanism to the knob, button, handle, or other interactive device of
producing a variable flow of water and manipulate it to discontinue the stream
of water.
30. Expectorate.
a. Repeat
until the residual flavor and/or texture of the toothpaste in your mouth is
barely perceivable.
b. If
necessary, reinstate the flow of water from the sink tap and utilize it to
rinse toothpaste residue from your mouth.
31. If
you used toothpaste, grip its container with your non-dominant hand or
comparable gripping mechanism of choice.
a. If
you did not use toothpaste, move directly to step number 32 (thirty-two).
b. If
the opening of your toothpaste container is regulated with a screw-on cap, grip
the cap with your dominant hand and rotate it clockwise until the cap and the
container are rejoined.
c. If
the opening of your toothpaste container is regulated with a hinged cap, exert
force perpendicular to the line of contact between the two sections of the
hinged mechanism upon the far surface of the section which is capable of motion
until the upper and lower sections reconnect and lock into the closed position.
d. If
the lid of your toothpaste container does not match any of the above-mentioned,
refer to the instructions included in its original packaging for guidance in
the process of closing the container.
32. Reverse
the steps followed to procure your toothbrush and/or toothpaste.
33. If
another entity aided in the process of brushing your teeth, thank him/her/it.
34. Enjoy.
Friday
b@b
December 14, 2011 @ 8:33pm: life is like a penis. simple, soft, straight, relaxed, and hanging freely. then women make it hard.
16 agrees, 14 newsworthies.
February 15, 2011 @ 4:59pm: I was kind of bummed out when I looked at the course guide the other day.. all sorts of WGST classes about what women have done in the past. Then I looked for a class on what men had done and couldn't find one for a while. Fortunately, I realized those classes are just labeled under "History".
45 agrees, 6 disagrees, 42 newsworthies.
March 8, 2011 @ 12:46am: freshman girl hooks up with frat bros to get attention -> guy's heart gets broken -> guy gets jaded, gets realistic about the scene, joins a frat -> starts hooking up with girls without emotional attachment -> the original girl realizes she made mistakes but now it's too late so she reverts back -> the cycle continues...
8 agrees, 10 disagrees, three newsworthies.
March 8, 2011 @ 12:49am: lets try this again: freshman girl hooks up with any guy that is nice to her because she is young and naiive and excited to be in college --> gets emotionally attached --> heart gets broken by some guy that she thought actually liked her --> gets realistic about the scene, joins a sorority, stops hooking up with as many as guys, and talks shit about "those slutty freshmen girls!"
52 agrees, 1 disagree, 18 newsworthies.
June 8, 2011 @ 2:05am: would you send your daughter to dartmouth? a/d
4 agrees, 15 disagrees, 2 newsworthies.
December 25, 2011 @ 11:56pm: Dartmouth men, would you send your son to Dartmouth?
11 agrees, 1 disagree.
16 agrees, 14 newsworthies.
February 15, 2011 @ 4:59pm: I was kind of bummed out when I looked at the course guide the other day.. all sorts of WGST classes about what women have done in the past. Then I looked for a class on what men had done and couldn't find one for a while. Fortunately, I realized those classes are just labeled under "History".
45 agrees, 6 disagrees, 42 newsworthies.
March 8, 2011 @ 12:46am: freshman girl hooks up with frat bros to get attention -> guy's heart gets broken -> guy gets jaded, gets realistic about the scene, joins a frat -> starts hooking up with girls without emotional attachment -> the original girl realizes she made mistakes but now it's too late so she reverts back -> the cycle continues...
8 agrees, 10 disagrees, three newsworthies.
March 8, 2011 @ 12:49am: lets try this again: freshman girl hooks up with any guy that is nice to her because she is young and naiive and excited to be in college --> gets emotionally attached --> heart gets broken by some guy that she thought actually liked her --> gets realistic about the scene, joins a sorority, stops hooking up with as many as guys, and talks shit about "those slutty freshmen girls!"
52 agrees, 1 disagree, 18 newsworthies.
June 8, 2011 @ 2:05am: would you send your daughter to dartmouth? a/d
4 agrees, 15 disagrees, 2 newsworthies.
December 25, 2011 @ 11:56pm: Dartmouth men, would you send your son to Dartmouth?
11 agrees, 1 disagree.
Sunday
Be silent always when you doubt your sense;
And speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence:
---I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope,
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing.
...In my beginning is my end.
Beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty, Silence.
Beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty,
beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty, Silence. Hands
and and night and morning
shadows and here and gone and
words and silence. Not to touch
because
And speak, though sure, with seeming diffidence:
---I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope,
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing.
...In my beginning is my end.
Beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty, Silence.
Beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty,
beauty, beauty, beauty, beauty, Silence. Hands
and and night and morning
shadows and here and gone and
words and silence. Not to touch
because
Monday
truly never so worklocked that in my wake lay more scratched redacts than poetry, but there it is and here this is and I'm not sure the it will count but it's the best I can do at 2am and 2am's the best I can do at honesty and, honestly, I don't know how not to say all of this so I try not to say very much at all-
Wednesday
Saturday
Thursday
I am wrapped in my childhood comforter,
and it is enough around me to keep off cold through cracks a century coming, a century like chimes pealing, peeling off, years falling away like leaves dropped and it’s still clingy autumn here:
but I’m building walls of books, too,
because in my bed they help to keep of the cold and for all its warmth Dixie sure has biting nights that even three years north of the Mason-Dixon have not yet taught me to love, and the books are enough, enough enough:
but I’m wooling my mind with words,
tangled like click, click, click I never learned to knit properly so I really should put these needles aside and just crochet, but it’s diverting to knot phrases in unfamiliar ways and everything here is so familiar that it’s a comfort, really, so I need these words to unwind me:
but walking these roads I feel at home,
in place, in peace, embraced, and sure as ever that my autumns will drop on red clay like it doesn’t matter how fertile the soil is I’ll grow here, dammit, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be no other words I’d rather weave no, no nothing else I’d rather read no, no no way else I’d rather sleep:
but these are not my thoughts,
my thoughts are very different.
and it is enough around me to keep off cold through cracks a century coming, a century like chimes pealing, peeling off, years falling away like leaves dropped and it’s still clingy autumn here:
but I’m building walls of books, too,
because in my bed they help to keep of the cold and for all its warmth Dixie sure has biting nights that even three years north of the Mason-Dixon have not yet taught me to love, and the books are enough, enough enough:
but I’m wooling my mind with words,
tangled like click, click, click I never learned to knit properly so I really should put these needles aside and just crochet, but it’s diverting to knot phrases in unfamiliar ways and everything here is so familiar that it’s a comfort, really, so I need these words to unwind me:
but walking these roads I feel at home,
in place, in peace, embraced, and sure as ever that my autumns will drop on red clay like it doesn’t matter how fertile the soil is I’ll grow here, dammit, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be no other words I’d rather weave no, no nothing else I’d rather read no, no no way else I’d rather sleep:
but these are not my thoughts,
my thoughts are very different.
Saturday
Friday
I don't think I
"And I know, and you know too
that what this is is bad, bad news."
---She and Him, more or less
...but...
...but...
...but...
What I don't do do want don't dare wonder do, do, do wonder don't do do think do think do think don't think daren't think think anyway do want don't want do want, don't want don't do daren't do do think, do think do want but don't do: your hair through my fingers and your neck on my cheek and head-spinning scent of you and I know what makes you laugh when you don't feel like laughing and you let me know when you don't feel like laughing because I can trace the weave of your speech-spinning hands and I've felt your fingertips on my palm and I've known the stretch and shrug of your shoulders and know how they hunch when you feel heavy and how to hold you to help shoulder the weight and you share my weight and everything's lighter when we're together, even the serious things, so sometimes we get mixed up and take the silly things seriously and the the serious things sillily and sometimes we're simply silent and stare into one another and this used to terrify me about you because I have walls for everyone but you- everyone but you, but I never had walls for you because something there is that doesn't love a wall that's for you so I'm for you and you are the spring and the mischief in me and when we meet to walk the line it isn't to heave stones or even sighs because there's nothing between us but what we want there and what we want there is shared and what we do is like like two-wise pastries and identical disinterests and word trades which sound nonsensical because we have eyes and minds in common enough to not need breathe long explanations of being so it's so easy to be honest and this used to terrify me, too, but when walking side-by-side feels more intimate than any love I've made then how could I not...
And it would be easier if you were a stranger or I could forget all your sweet smiles, all the time passing, the peace, the heat, the pain, and all those long nights where our words were our freedom, but I can't unknow don't want to unknow don't do do want dare wonder do, do, do wonder don't do do think do think do think daren't do do want do want, don't want to not do daren't do do think, do think do want but don't do.
that what this is is bad, bad news."
---She and Him, more or less
...but...
...but...
...but...
What I don't do do want don't dare wonder do, do, do wonder don't do do think do think do think don't think daren't think think anyway do want don't want do want, don't want don't do daren't do do think, do think do want but don't do: your hair through my fingers and your neck on my cheek and head-spinning scent of you and I know what makes you laugh when you don't feel like laughing and you let me know when you don't feel like laughing because I can trace the weave of your speech-spinning hands and I've felt your fingertips on my palm and I've known the stretch and shrug of your shoulders and know how they hunch when you feel heavy and how to hold you to help shoulder the weight and you share my weight and everything's lighter when we're together, even the serious things, so sometimes we get mixed up and take the silly things seriously and the the serious things sillily and sometimes we're simply silent and stare into one another and this used to terrify me about you because I have walls for everyone but you- everyone but you, but I never had walls for you because something there is that doesn't love a wall that's for you so I'm for you and you are the spring and the mischief in me and when we meet to walk the line it isn't to heave stones or even sighs because there's nothing between us but what we want there and what we want there is shared and what we do is like like two-wise pastries and identical disinterests and word trades which sound nonsensical because we have eyes and minds in common enough to not need breathe long explanations of being so it's so easy to be honest and this used to terrify me, too, but when walking side-by-side feels more intimate than any love I've made then how could I not...
And it would be easier if you were a stranger or I could forget all your sweet smiles, all the time passing, the peace, the heat, the pain, and all those long nights where our words were our freedom, but I can't unknow don't want to unknow don't do do want dare wonder do, do, do wonder don't do do think do think do think daren't do do want do want, don't want to not do daren't do do think, do think do want but don't do.
Wednesday
Friday
Aerated banana cohabitation!
Dystopian egregy flocculation!
Gestaltesque hurrumphs iterate joshingly,
knotting liturgical mandates noshingly.
Oxymoronic pretenses quixotic
(For context, see Oct. 29, twent'leven)
relinquish semblance for tacit uknowits.
Vanguard withholding xenagogues yearningly.
Zetetic zitella zenithing, el fin.
Dystopian egregy flocculation!
Gestaltesque hurrumphs iterate joshingly,
knotting liturgical mandates noshingly.
Oxymoronic pretenses quixotic
(For context, see Oct. 29, twent'leven)
relinquish semblance for tacit uknowits.
Vanguard withholding xenagogues yearningly.
Zetetic zitella zenithing, el fin.
Saturday
Epistle I: To DDS, Of Endive
Nothing so foul as what Tonight you serve,
This vile Vegetable, horrid Hor D'oeuvre,
Palatable when neither hot nor cold,
Ne'er by my Words nor Deeds to be extoll'd.
How many Students pass it up each day,
How many more lack Sense to stay away?
Alongside Fruitstuffs, here, tender and sweet,
Of vibrant Colours, of Nutr'ents replete.
Here Yogurts, with Texture smoothe and creamy,
And there Broccoli, fresh and steamy.
Let them eat Cake, and Steak, and greas'd 'Taters,
Pizza, Burgers, Hot Dogs, Fries, Tomaters.
Or Herbavores may choose such lighter Fare,
As MaPo Tofu, Peas, and roasted Pear,
With sim'ring Sauces and deft Hand prepar'd;
Whether the Student's veg- or Carnivore,
'Longside these Options Endive is abhorr'd.
Why then the Time, Space, and Energy waste,
To present this Plant so awry of Taste,
That it pleases nei'er Masses nor Tongue,
With its Flavor not unlike old horse Dung.
Carrots, better endow'd with Vit'min A,
More often are consum'd, less thrown away,
Agree as Sides to Entrees a-plenty,
As stir-fried Slices and in Salads minty,
Even when smothered with a greasy Paste,
Sugared, buttered, spic'd they're not a Waste:
Because it's so that if the Base is good,
Culinary Abuse may be withstood.
But "good" does not these endive Leaves describe,
Thus cannot Sugar, Butter, Spice ascribe,
Any of their sundry Qual'ties pleasing;
Endive is, in short, a waste of Seas'ning.
How soft the the Flavor! fresh Leaves of Spinach,
The tender Tufts of foliate Plummage:
To me, Callista, prove their own fine Worth,
By extracting such Iron from the Earth,
As can richen Blood with Hemoglobin,
Without which I would wain weak and mopin'.
All Eyes may see the Change within me rise,
With Blood that's rich, my Laughter soars---it flies.
Sure, Endive boasts large amounts of Fiber,
Vitamins E, C, K and other dire
Nutr'ents which would help to sustain its Host,
But that matters little, for it's so gross.
Loath'd Endive, that odious Bane of the salad Bar,
Offends my palate---Aye, it goes too far!
Worse still when served up sickly-yellow, hot,
All limp, and wet, and surely soon to rot.
Students, of sound and stable Judgement, know,
'Tis not worth eating, and so they forego;
Unhappy those who accident'ly take,
Even the smallest Serving on their Plates,
For a Bite once taken in, once chew'ed,
Cannot in polite Company be spew'ed,
Their Tongues may curl, their Lips may well go numb,
But to the Urge to wretch they can't succumb:
For Grace mandates, Decorum straight commands,
That those refin'd, Unpleasantness withstand;
And those refin'd know there's naught else more crude,
Than to at a Table expel one's Food.
Then there are poor Souls taught to clean their Plates,
Who eat all their food, no matter how base;
For these poor Souls I offer up a Pray'r,
And distract myself so as not to stare,
At their Misfortune, at their painful Plight,
As they gulp down each and eve'ry Bite.
Why then Surprise when they loudly declare,
That foco Food they shall henceforth foreswear?
Why pique our Buds with Food that Pleasure brings?
If only to then to dish out Food that stings:
Now deep in our bowels Complaints are mounting,
Which we won't (politely) be recounting.
Conscience should grip you, you should feel Remorse;
But you do not---you're DDS of course.
You value feedback from student Patrons,
Only when receiv'd in a Form that burns.
Or, rather, recycles (#green Init'tive),
Well, here's my Feedback: --insert expletive--,
Endive disgusts, it is not fit to serve,
Whoever does so has a lot of Nerve;
Endive revolts, so bitter and so foul,
Prolong'd Exposure leads to perm'nant Scowl.
We all reject this unfit edible,
And demand Meals more wholesome, credible.
The Tribe has spoken, our Edict is clear:
Besmirched Endive is not welcome here!
This vile Vegetable, horrid Hor D'oeuvre,
Palatable when neither hot nor cold,
Ne'er by my Words nor Deeds to be extoll'd.
How many Students pass it up each day,
How many more lack Sense to stay away?
Alongside Fruitstuffs, here, tender and sweet,
Of vibrant Colours, of Nutr'ents replete.
Here Yogurts, with Texture smoothe and creamy,
And there Broccoli, fresh and steamy.
Let them eat Cake, and Steak, and greas'd 'Taters,
Pizza, Burgers, Hot Dogs, Fries, Tomaters.
Or Herbavores may choose such lighter Fare,
As MaPo Tofu, Peas, and roasted Pear,
With sim'ring Sauces and deft Hand prepar'd;
Whether the Student's veg- or Carnivore,
'Longside these Options Endive is abhorr'd.
Why then the Time, Space, and Energy waste,
To present this Plant so awry of Taste,
That it pleases nei'er Masses nor Tongue,
With its Flavor not unlike old horse Dung.
Carrots, better endow'd with Vit'min A,
More often are consum'd, less thrown away,
Agree as Sides to Entrees a-plenty,
As stir-fried Slices and in Salads minty,
Even when smothered with a greasy Paste,
Sugared, buttered, spic'd they're not a Waste:
Because it's so that if the Base is good,
Culinary Abuse may be withstood.
But "good" does not these endive Leaves describe,
Thus cannot Sugar, Butter, Spice ascribe,
Any of their sundry Qual'ties pleasing;
Endive is, in short, a waste of Seas'ning.
How soft the the Flavor! fresh Leaves of Spinach,
The tender Tufts of foliate Plummage:
To me, Callista, prove their own fine Worth,
By extracting such Iron from the Earth,
As can richen Blood with Hemoglobin,
Without which I would wain weak and mopin'.
All Eyes may see the Change within me rise,
With Blood that's rich, my Laughter soars---it flies.
Sure, Endive boasts large amounts of Fiber,
Vitamins E, C, K and other dire
Nutr'ents which would help to sustain its Host,
But that matters little, for it's so gross.
Loath'd Endive, that odious Bane of the salad Bar,
Offends my palate---Aye, it goes too far!
Worse still when served up sickly-yellow, hot,
All limp, and wet, and surely soon to rot.
Students, of sound and stable Judgement, know,
'Tis not worth eating, and so they forego;
Unhappy those who accident'ly take,
Even the smallest Serving on their Plates,
For a Bite once taken in, once chew'ed,
Cannot in polite Company be spew'ed,
Their Tongues may curl, their Lips may well go numb,
But to the Urge to wretch they can't succumb:
For Grace mandates, Decorum straight commands,
That those refin'd, Unpleasantness withstand;
And those refin'd know there's naught else more crude,
Than to at a Table expel one's Food.
Then there are poor Souls taught to clean their Plates,
Who eat all their food, no matter how base;
For these poor Souls I offer up a Pray'r,
And distract myself so as not to stare,
At their Misfortune, at their painful Plight,
As they gulp down each and eve'ry Bite.
Why then Surprise when they loudly declare,
That foco Food they shall henceforth foreswear?
Why pique our Buds with Food that Pleasure brings?
If only to then to dish out Food that stings:
Now deep in our bowels Complaints are mounting,
Which we won't (politely) be recounting.
Conscience should grip you, you should feel Remorse;
But you do not---you're DDS of course.
You value feedback from student Patrons,
Only when receiv'd in a Form that burns.
Or, rather, recycles (#green Init'tive),
Well, here's my Feedback: --insert expletive--,
Endive disgusts, it is not fit to serve,
Whoever does so has a lot of Nerve;
Endive revolts, so bitter and so foul,
Prolong'd Exposure leads to perm'nant Scowl.
We all reject this unfit edible,
And demand Meals more wholesome, credible.
The Tribe has spoken, our Edict is clear:
Besmirched Endive is not welcome here!
Tuesday
Untitled II
Not long like standing three paused-steps outside of your door or long like the catch between breaths that could cascade speech-ways or sigh-ways or impishly my-ways or long like the decades (I swear) we've been lip-locked while civilizations bloomed and burned with rivelets and rust and not even the Romans ruled breadths and depths like those wrapped in our embrace because we sweat for that which we can't touch and touch anyways with hands like oil on skin that is more beautiful than any marble broken into idea(l?)s and write our own religion with strokes of trust and flourishes of why the hell not look like fools and make mistakes and enjoy creating and cleaning up our own messes with these hands cleansed holy by heart to hip to hunger-shudders of shared dominion of bodies we'll only have for a moment and not long like that moment no not long at all.
Saturday
Untitled I
I would like to whisper to you how you take my breath and fuel my pulse with something more elemental than O2 that flushes my cheeks and tingles my toes and sends my head swimming around and around and around in an amaranthine-ethereal-nonlingual slow-mo samba like cheeks brushing and words touching me where I've never even touched myself and I wear them like garments because at your hands I feel beautiful and at your thought I could flush aching winter with one thousand summers laid end to end like the sun wouldn't set unless we wanted and the stars are things that we can toss into one another's hair like smiles that we bounce from lip to lip and maybe if I hiss my whisper sweetly enough I can tickle your ear and ring your laugh.
Tuesday
Speaking of my bio paper...
I was born in the Hospital Garrahan in Buenos Aires on December 19, 1990. I was a complete breech birth and the woman who delivered me, a Buddhist from South Korea, told my mother that it meant I was a bodhisattva- a wisdom being. My parents chose the Korean word 'rae' as my middle name in her honor (although neither can remember what it means) and from time to time they still call me 'little lotus-eater.'
My parents met near Port San Carlos in the Falkland Islands. My mom was there on U-Chicago's photography foreign study program and my dad was stranded. He'd gone as a Baptist missionary intent on converting indigenous peoples through rudimentary hand gestures and drawings. Upon arrival he was surprised to find that the majority of the population not only spoke English, but also already practiced some form of Christianity. Rather than rebound by converting them all to his kind of Christianity, he promptly converted to Sikhism. Upon learning of his transgression the First United Baptist Church withdrew sponsorship and refused to finance his return to the United States. Recently-graduated English major that he was, he couldn't afford the trip himself and so settled down to studying Punjabi and doing freelance landscaping work.
One morning in mid-March my mom rose early and left her host family's home with the Nikon F4 on loan from her local paper. After a few hours of photographing sheep and Magellanic Penguins she wandered towards the seaside to eat her picnic breakfast. As she neared the coast her surroundings became more distinctly boggy and an eerie chanting floated on the cool-ish autumn air.
"Ik oankar sat nam karta..."
Seated on a protruding rock in the middle of a pool of bog water was my dad, now donning a long beard. My mom wondered at how he'd managed to reach his perch without wetting his clothing and determined to wait for him to finish his recitation in order to introduce herself. A full hour passed before my dad opened his eyes to the blond college student seated on the bank across from him.
Did she ever find out how he made it across without wetting his clothes? Well.. I happened about nine months later.
My parents met near Port San Carlos in the Falkland Islands. My mom was there on U-Chicago's photography foreign study program and my dad was stranded. He'd gone as a Baptist missionary intent on converting indigenous peoples through rudimentary hand gestures and drawings. Upon arrival he was surprised to find that the majority of the population not only spoke English, but also already practiced some form of Christianity. Rather than rebound by converting them all to his kind of Christianity, he promptly converted to Sikhism. Upon learning of his transgression the First United Baptist Church withdrew sponsorship and refused to finance his return to the United States. Recently-graduated English major that he was, he couldn't afford the trip himself and so settled down to studying Punjabi and doing freelance landscaping work.
One morning in mid-March my mom rose early and left her host family's home with the Nikon F4 on loan from her local paper. After a few hours of photographing sheep and Magellanic Penguins she wandered towards the seaside to eat her picnic breakfast. As she neared the coast her surroundings became more distinctly boggy and an eerie chanting floated on the cool-ish autumn air.
"Ik oankar sat nam karta..."
Seated on a protruding rock in the middle of a pool of bog water was my dad, now donning a long beard. My mom wondered at how he'd managed to reach his perch without wetting his clothing and determined to wait for him to finish his recitation in order to introduce herself. A full hour passed before my dad opened his eyes to the blond college student seated on the bank across from him.
Did she ever find out how he made it across without wetting his clothes? Well.. I happened about nine months later.
Friday
The Mailer-Daemon Blitzbomb Lesson
Once upon a Friday, pleasant, I came upon a Blitzmail present,
sent from that familiar presence of the Dartmouth social scene,
While I dawdled, not reviewing for finals as I should be doing,
(which I will be later ruing), came a blitz from Him to me.
'Damned Mailer-Daemon!' I hissed, 'chewing through my time with this,
note I don't wish to receive.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was sunny in December,
And the breeze blew softly, sweetly, flirting through my window screen.
How I yearned to go out with it; - twas vainly, though, that I wished
For I needed to be rid - rid of Finals uncertainty -
Loathed banes of my existence, - hurdles 'tween me and my degree -
Without which I'd be carefree.
And the white tantastic gleaming of the sunlight palely streaming
Struck me - filled me with woe for it was setting just after three;
So that now, to soothe my Dixie-yearning heart, I stood repeating
'Damned Mailer-Daemon blitzing with something else I'll be missing -
The Mailer-Daemon blitzing with something else I'll be missing -
In pursuit of grades that please.'
Presently I waxed curious; I had hope, however spurious,
That it might be something worth my precious time to look and see;
So I opened up the missive, of which I'd been ruthlessly dismissive,
And read it with encroaching glee, read it so ebulliently,
That I loosed a hoop and holler - born of utter mischievy -
Oh! The havoc I could wreak.
'Beloved Mailer-Daemon,' quoth I, 'acquaintance, friend, ally,
With the knowledge you've imparted, now begins a blitzing spree.
Forget studies! Hurrah for war! I'll blitzbomb forevermore!
Let me see then, who I might spam: my friends? The Daemon! Yes, he!'
I saw then who I might spam: the author of this strange decree.
I'd do so with poetry.
'Open New,' I asked the server, then typed away with fervor,
At some, carefully rhymed and metered, lines of reciprocity.
As I typed I grinned and muttered, 'My deluge he'll not foresee.'
I wrote, then followed truly the instructions to BCC -
One hundred? Nay! Two hundred? False! I blitzed out three thirty-three.
To: Mailer-Daemon; Love, Me!.
sent from that familiar presence of the Dartmouth social scene,
While I dawdled, not reviewing for finals as I should be doing,
(which I will be later ruing), came a blitz from Him to me.
'Damned Mailer-Daemon!' I hissed, 'chewing through my time with this,
note I don't wish to receive.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was sunny in December,
And the breeze blew softly, sweetly, flirting through my window screen.
How I yearned to go out with it; - twas vainly, though, that I wished
For I needed to be rid - rid of Finals uncertainty -
Loathed banes of my existence, - hurdles 'tween me and my degree -
Without which I'd be carefree.
And the white tantastic gleaming of the sunlight palely streaming
Struck me - filled me with woe for it was setting just after three;
So that now, to soothe my Dixie-yearning heart, I stood repeating
'Damned Mailer-Daemon blitzing with something else I'll be missing -
The Mailer-Daemon blitzing with something else I'll be missing -
In pursuit of grades that please.'
Presently I waxed curious; I had hope, however spurious,
That it might be something worth my precious time to look and see;
So I opened up the missive, of which I'd been ruthlessly dismissive,
And read it with encroaching glee, read it so ebulliently,
That I loosed a hoop and holler - born of utter mischievy -
Oh! The havoc I could wreak.
'Beloved Mailer-Daemon,' quoth I, 'acquaintance, friend, ally,
With the knowledge you've imparted, now begins a blitzing spree.
Forget studies! Hurrah for war! I'll blitzbomb forevermore!
Let me see then, who I might spam: my friends? The Daemon! Yes, he!'
I saw then who I might spam: the author of this strange decree.
I'd do so with poetry.
'Open New,' I asked the server, then typed away with fervor,
At some, carefully rhymed and metered, lines of reciprocity.
As I typed I grinned and muttered, 'My deluge he'll not foresee.'
I wrote, then followed truly the instructions to BCC -
One hundred? Nay! Two hundred? False! I blitzed out three thirty-three.
To: Mailer-Daemon; Love, Me!.
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