We Still Hold the Token Title

I'm a pillar of strength and you're a beacon of hope.

I'm not calling myself stupid.
I'm just saying that I'm not the star player here, and I'm never going to be.
But hey, at least I know how to play the game.
*fingers crossed I've still got some moves*

I'm behind, surprise suprise, far far behind.
I just wanted to let you know I may be in tiny pieces in the parking lot.

"[M]asochists who feel pride in rising above impossible odds”

Its a funny thing, when you've maybe thought it all along, but when you actually admit that not only do you have a masochistic streak but that it is undeniably thick.

I'm afraid of what admitting this might mean as far as how people interpret me, but today was just too uncanny not to point it out.

Because two completely seperate conversations in a matter of hours is one of those brick walls you smack right into where the anwser is written right there. Well the anwser isn't quite there, but as much of an anwser that exists, I suppose, is.

Here's the second convo., just for crazy's posterity sake.

thats it. it must be. thank you peter hall. even if every so often i create my own impossible odds.

and its not always me. dont misinterpret this.

Call It Corny, BUT

They're full of a little thing called TALENT






I make no apologies should this turn into a regular feature.

Favorite New Poem

I know I promised some of you the whole text of this a while ago, but something I read today especially reminded me of it.

I thought I only had room for one favorite poem, but this one bellies up right next to it. I suppose I've got two. The more I think about it, the more the two are mirror images of each other in life's twisted reflection. I'll type up the other later.

I presume my contorted affinity for this piece is because it is exactly how I'll be at 32 if I don't stop it.

Lawyers on the Left Bank

So this is me at thirty-two, the strange dream seemed to say:
the lawyers order coffee in a louche Left Bank cafe
and read their menus carefully, and sit extremely still
while all around them lips kiss, fistfights rage, and glasses spill.

What they are doing in this rowdy tavern is not clear.
It's obvious they are not prudes, for after all they're here.
But in this topsy-turvy room where tables serve as beds
and tarts are jumping out of cakes, what thoughts race through their heads?

Perhaps they harbor fantasies of trading in their suits
for clingy leather bodices and sleek stiletto boots;
perhaps they scan the revelry and contemplate a fate
where working hard is not the solemn foe of playing late;
or maybe they just tease the air with legions of small sighs
and burn holes in the carpet with averted bedroom eyes.

------------------Rachel Wetzsteon----------------------

I Admit, I'm Biased

"An art song is a vocal music composition, usually written for one singer with piano accompaniment. By extension, the term "art song" is used to refer to the genre of such songs. Aficionados of the genre consider art songs (when written by composers who excel at text setting, lyrical vocal lines, and beautiful, supportive accompaniments) to be among the highest forms of art, unsurpassed in sophistication, subtlety and dramatic truth."




Also, I've got these hung in my apartment and love them. "Rivals" and "Flapper". Beautifully Telling.
{well, maybe propped against the wall for a few months, but someday to be hung}

Some Strange Entente

the last time i saw you
it was red hair and pink beds
sly smiles behind all we knew
and always left unsaid

and its all just headaches with hangnails
goodnight and goodmorning
goodmorning goodnight

a disregarded month, a forgotton week, a misspent hour
all adding up, tossed aside together, collectively joined:
a demon that steals the wind right out of even the prettiest sails

living in someone
i can't quite recognize
shes even begun to show
something like death behind the eyes

goodnight and goodmorning
goodmorning goodnight

A Glorious Missouri Spring

And lovely random text messages from a best friend of the prettiest of the first spring flowers makes a girl's day, even if she isn't around to see it for herself :-)

oh how I do love tullips. they are my favorite in ground flower.

L&L Final: "Law School Blawg"

Advice to entering 1L students:

You’ve watched the television shows, you’ve read the John Grisham novels; for the most part your entire perception of the law and law school to date have revolved around what has been gladly handed to you on a tray of popular culture. Law school is not as awful as Hollywood portrays it, nor is it as glamorous. Classes are not as scary as The Paper Chase makes them out to be, but will not be as easy going for you as they were for Julia Roberts in the Pelican Brief. Granted, I am not finished with law school yet, but I have yet to meet an Atticus Finch. I have also yet to meet an Al Pacino devil-like character either. Remember that for all the flack lawyers receive as the butt end of jokes, as wicked portrayals or glorious figures in the media or culture (whether present or past), it is all derived from some semblance of truth: a truth which many people do not properly take with a grain of salt. You must. I would say forget those notions, but it is impossible. Law school is less about the law, and more about who you were, are, and become as you relate and comprehend and process it. Remember also to take what I say with that aforementioned salt. If there is any advice worthy of passing along as you prepare to enter into your first year of law school, it is this:


Take the summer off. Don't even pay attention to the 'suggested reading' list. It cannot and will not help you. The best it will do is make you more anxious than you probably already are. This anxiousness doesn’t give you an edge-it is just detrimentally distracting. Travel to Europe. Have sleepovers with your Grandparents and stay up late with your siblings. Spend the time with your friends even if you think you are too tired after work. Go to barbeques and pool parties. Visit all of the tourist attractions your city has to offer. Go sit in the field you drive by on your way to work everyday but have never stopped to enjoy. Take pictures. Many, many pictures. Close your eyes: make mental notes of how your best friend's voice sounds, the smell of your mother's perfume and your dad's hair, what its like to give the perfect present, how the sun feels on your face and what your hometown's air smells like. Remember the way you feel when someone tells you why they love you. Listen. Remember the "why", it is important.

Orientation is daunting, even though the school believes they are giving you a proper welcome. Listen closely to what everyone has to say to you (there will be many people talking at you) and promptly forget every word.Trying to remember what got them through law school, and what to do and not to do, and how to outline and read and prepare for class is a surefire way to spin your already reeling mind into convulsions.


"Do"s and "Dont"s do not exist.
The only thing that exists is you. You got here because you deserve to be here. You have successfully navigated the world thus far, and you will successfully navigate this one. This is a different animal, but to buy into the over processed hype of “shoulds” and “shouldnots” and the panic that exudes from your fellow classmates is certain suicide. It will be difficult to forge your own way and not succumb to the pack mentality.


You will have at least one professor that has the distinct dialect made famous by Charlie Brown's grade-school teacher. There is nothing you can do to understand him or her, and it is highly unlikely meeting with them during office hours or after class will provide any benefit. You can try, but as soon as you realize that, you'll be better off teaching it to yourself than working yourself into a sweat over the meaning of "is". The same goes for getting explanations from classmates. The way they understand it in their mind is not the same way you need to put it in your own.

Expect nothing and rely on no one. But always make an effort to be friendly, to smile, to stay after class and chat, even if it is only about how horrible everything is, because that is the only conversation you will be able to sustain for the first great while. But moment by moment, person by person, you'll draw the human they used to be to the surface. Through it all, be kind. You don't know who else is breaking and in desperate need of a smile. Be honest. This is not the place for cheating and side-dealing. The people who behave this way always get the same in return. Karma does still exist here, if not more so.

There will be days when you wake up and know for certain that you must either cry or throw up, and the two sensations will have never felt so identical. You have never and will never feel so alone. People at home love you, but for whatever reason they simply cannot understand; some will never fully grasp how much you need them and their silence will hurt the worst. People here understand but cannot stop to breathe, much less to love someone. And you can't understand why you've decided to subject yourself to this, because the end doesn't seem to justify these means. Whatever made you come to law school doesn't cut it anymore. And the debt might just be what keeps you going, because to turn back isn't financially responsible, so you sacrifice your mind and personality. You are shell of your former self. You were amazing, flocks of people loved/counted on you: you mattered. You were interesting, had stories, and laughs, and midnight loves. That’s the funny thing about shells, it all looks deceptively the same, but your personality has written a Dear John letter and left it pinned to an empty wall.

For an unfortunate moment you will be lost, a stranger to yourself, and desperate to feel something. Remember those pictures you took of your last summer? The smells? The way you felt? The reasons people love you? Its all still there, and if you try very hard, you can almost feel the sun on your face.

You will prove to yourself what you are made of. And realize things you could never let go. The fact of the matter is that you are who you have always been, even if slightly tweaked here or there. You were never lost, you just had to look a little harder to find yourself.

You successfully navigated the world before enrolling in this beast, and will successfully navigate this new version of this strange world. Because you brought yourself here, all on your own, and as time passes, the end slowly begins to justify the means, once again.

Be kind to those around you. Be kind to yourself.
Listen with trained ears.
And do not be afraid to not take anyone's advice.
And that's the best advice I could possibly offer to you.

Take it with a grain of salt.

Tounge Tied and Oh So Squemish

everythings only half there half thought of half remembered and all these pieces keep getting jumbled.
getting pretty tired of it.

palm of my hand keeps itching. i can only hope the wives tale comes true.

"oh dead.
did you get what you deserve?
if life ain't just a joke, then why are we laughing?"

at this point laughter is right at the brink of madness and i simply can't contain it or stop. then its right back to the poker face, a mask of intensity covering apathy and whatever the exact extreme opposite of that is, with plenty of boredom and loathing mixed in for good measure.
my cheerfulness suprised even me today. i know you didn't have a good weekend or a good day today, and i don't know why i don't stop asking.

The Procrastinator's War

My exterior is calm and nonchalant
And yet, my insides ARE SCREAMING.
I'm almost to the point of caring.

Where she watches, by her golden perch or her sapphire throne.

Summer.
Thats where you should find me.
In the Summer of the year, summer of your mood, summer of our lives.
Summer's firefly eyes and sun induced sighs.
Through the haze of the heat and the weaving wavelengths of light,
where the cut grass mixes with the sounds of children playing, and birds calling your name.
Where the song the cicadas sing tells the sun its time for bed, and to kiss you with the final rays of daylight before the moon bathes the world in silver.
Thats where you should find me.
Because the harsh summer sun, isn't really that at all.
She's just a fellow wanderer, whose mind may pick you apart, but only to love you, and to know how to catch you should you fall.

I wouldn't trust a halloween romance anymore than I'd trust a bar-room marriage. I know the sound waves are bouncing around; I wish you would hear me.
But thats the kind of advice that just floats aimlessly around, because though everybody sees it, no one would dare reach for it.

If you'll take one thing, I hope its that to step outside that which you know, that which you've never changed, if even only to slide a toe across the line, you'll start to understand why you need to shift. Just to find the sweet spot; the sweet spot between here and there and what you used to know, and what you've always known but forgot to hear.

EARTHQUAKE!

I missed the Earthquake today. When I was very little I felt a tiny tremor from a tiny little seismic bump in our fault. No one believed me until the news reported it, but I was indeed right. All growing up in Missouri schools they told us about the New Madrid fault. Its not very active but one day, they told us, one day it will be. I've been waiting for that day my entire life. When California was having its bout of problems with their fault, this only spurred our school system to increase their teachings on what to do in a quake: videos, pamphlets, drills, you name it. Of course, I never wanted it to be as huge as those CA suffered from, I didn't want anyone to get hurt, but man was I ready for the day our Madrid would give us a full sneeze instead of a hiccup. AND I MISSED IT. So dissapointing. Apparently I've lived through a hurricane. A hurricane that did not produce one single drop of rain. Boo. This doesn't make up for missing the world around me shake. "Swear to shake it up, if you'll swear to listen". Well, dear Missouri and Illinois, I was listening. Oh well, my best friend called until I woke up this morning and whispered into the phone "i'm sorry to wake you, but we had an earthquake!"--if you would've heard it as she said it, you'd laugh too. I guess her mom didn't believe her when she woke her up, which made it even funnier. I called my parents and got their renditions of the event, which too brought laughter--laughter that brought tears; so it wasn't all bad or a total loss...it was a nice way to wake up, even if the world wasn't trembling around me.

I really do love Cased Crystal

mcr is playing chi tonite. i want to be in chi tonite.
i want to be anywhere. thats there.
my skull is bored and my chest is restless.
and now all the cookies are gone. damnit.

To say this made my week, or even month, would be an understatement.

I got this message from a college friend, whom I haven't heard from or talked to in two years, today...

"ok so...
the other day this girl was wearing your homecoming shirt
you know, the coca-cola one
and i was like oh! i love [her]!
and she was like i don't even know who that is
and i was like
well. that's unfortunate. because she is AMAZING."

I miss that lovely place, and [some of] those [lovely] people, and the wonderful way we were, more than mere words could ever be strung together to express

St. Clever and Sir Cabaret playing with Grass Rabbits

Auto Response from Xx STxX (7:53:13 PM): Knockin' on heaven's door.... I wonder what it's like inside?
lovely (7:53:13 PM): ______________

Well I hear, I hear its paved with gold

And the souls taking up residence there

Seem as though they've never been old

No more hardships or life's wear and tear

But then again, thats just what I hear

Xx STxX (8:26:44 PM): where's that from?
lovely (8:26:51 PM): my head

(names changed)

"Beautiful Line"

"Honey, I'm both sides of every coin in your pocket"

yellow and white luncheons
to black eyes and gloss bleeding lips

what if non-fiction is all these fingers have left in them
or that creative only comes in how well spun the spin is

You're a cool cat, but as a species you spend too much time yawning.
There's a reason every Lion cast in gold has ruby eyes.

"I don't want to" simply means it. though I can be talked into many things. mostly because my mind is 10 steps ahead of you in the weighing and balancing act, consequence vs. not, not vs. opportunity, and that you can't always pick out what I care about.

It didn't mean "Beautiful Line" but I like it.

Schools of Thought

I realized as I was putting up an away message just now that I forgot about something someone said to me recently about my messages. I've covered the "depressing" ground just a few posts ago, and whats funny is that this other individual brought it up to me that, to him, A) my messages are either hilarious rants, or B) sappy lovey dovey creations.

Funny, no? The dichotomy between the two 'schools' is strange enough. Beyond that though, its that I cannot remember one thing I've put up that was about love, and if there was anything broaching the subject it was certainly in a strictly observational fashion-or sweet talking, because I was happy with the world, manner.
Regardless, it was definatly not in a sappy "I see rainbows in your eyes and I've got butterflies in my heart" kind of way. And thats for sure. I'm not in love, I don't pretend to be in love, I'm not wistfully wishing for love. So it makes me wonder where in the world he got this.

Then it dawns on me. He's reading into the messages just like everyone does. They read them off their screen, each with their own little cheese-cloth filter into their minds of particularized circumstances, and though its English, its read with so many different dialects that without spelling it out-as I do in most of my rants-the words and feeling behind them are wide open to interpretation. And as frusterating as it can be, its really quite wonderful and exciting. Here I explain until the words run out, and other times I'm so purposely vauge that the gaps beg your imagination to take over.

Because maybe, just maybe, the company there will have something to review for the application.

That, every little once in a while, your imagination wanders from point A to B using my words as skipping stones is more significant than you could possibly fathom. Even when traveling along.

I hope I hear in your voice what I think I do. Because of all that Ive said, you still delight in trips down memory lane holding our tiny toddler hands.

--
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I love the smell of a group of well dressed Europeans mingling with the night air. Thats really not as weird as it looks to be.

--
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Stock Plot Moments and Not-So Stock Pairings

We dont get to choose who we'll be standing next to
when the clouded night sky gives way.
I'm there, in that memory too,
whether its where I wished I was or not.
They may feel like moments stolen
by and from the open hands of the greedy and lonely.
But we don't get to choose who is standing next to us when the night sky gives way.

--
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To the 29th Degree

Put the phone down. Flip the sidekick shut. Close the computer in half.



I think that if I were in a room with other people I could be/should be socializing with and only saw their faces by the blue electronic glow, that I would be very angry. I just think to the times I travelled Europe and the interesting conversations I had and the entertaining exchanges I have added to a list of "fond memories". And how awful it would've been to have filled those moments with meaningless clicks. We were more or less forced together and used each other out of boredom. Socialize. Nothing online is so important that it needs more than a five minute dedication. No one on AIM or by txt messaging needs to speak with you for longer than 30 seconds. It doesn't matter if you wish you had brought different shoes, or that their lunch break was cut short. What matters is what's going on around you. Be part of it.

Yes, I'm on here. ALOT. But never in a crowded room sulking to myself. And txting/msging someone that could be breathing on you isn't any better. In fact, its probably worse.

Many people have been giving me what I percieved as grief in regards to my away messages. They call them depressing, and while some may not be full of sunshine and smiles, I never thought I was coming across as so 'down'. Turns out, after a little more explanation, its not that they are that bad...but read as a type of tragic eloquenence, and with that combo. I'm declaring it to have a level of depth. Well, what do you know. Their words, not mine. Now I've just got to get this worked into vocalization and I can finally edit my mysapce about me.

And for some AIM convo. loving: (names changed)

Xx STxX (12:59:25 AM): u and *crazy* are psychically connected
lovely (1:01:06 AM): huh????
Xx STxX (1:01:13 AM): u IM me
Xx STxX (1:01:18 AM): 2 seconds later
Xx STxX (1:01:21 AM): there he is
lovely (1:02:37 AM): euwh
lovely (1:03:14 AM): that must be the reason he is needing "awe" from me, because he is completely vapid and void of it himself
Xx STxX (1:03:26 AM): LMAO
Xx STxX (1:03:34 AM): can that be my away message???
Xx STxX (1:03:38 AM): pleaseeeeeee
lovely (1:03:45 AM): LMAO
lovely (1:03:51 AM): ummmmmm
lovely (1:03:57 AM): I dont want to die a meathead death
------
------
Xx STxX (1:52:03 AM): what is that thing?
lovely (1:52:08 AM): ?
Xx STxX (1:52:20 AM): the picture u just sent me?
lovely (1:52:25 AM): its a 'secret' somebody made
Xx STxX (1:52:38 AM): oh, okay- so it's not a real person
lovely (1:52:41 AM): no no no
lovely (1:52:43 AM): yes, it is
lovely (1:52:45 AM): Its *soandso*
lovely (1:52:54 AM): in his 'stage'
Xx STxX (1:52:55 AM): IT'S A BOY???????????

I've gotton that same reaction twice now this week. I do not make the most sense. But no one ever said I had to prove that I can.
-----
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I appreciate how oil and water the first and last parts this post are.

I drove all the way with the the label sticker stuck around my finger.

Beautiful melancoly and smoked velvet blue walls reflecting the ivory and lemon chiffon.

--
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{Not So} Very Random

I sometimes like to play random little games. I think it stems from my belief in the inter-connectivity of so much. I've been over this before, and I know I'll cover it again, when it blows my mind out of its universe once more.

Anyway, I like to play "ask the radio" every once in a while. Its a lot like a magic-8 ball. And I don't think it counts if you use your computer media's player. Its got to be the radio. I digress. I didn't play that today, so moving on.

Here's a new little game:

Directions:

1. Go to Wikipedia and click on Random Article (at the left). This will be the name of your band.

2. Go to Quotations Page and click on Random Quotes (at the left). The last four words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your album.

3. Go to flickr and click on Explore the Last Seven Days (you'll find it at the bottom of the page). Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

*

Answers:

1) "Woolshed" and because I'm not an Aussie, "SxC" (yeah, thats a cheat)

-
2) "And fall fast asleep". I love this. (from the Craig Ferguson quote page--didn't cheat this time, I swear).

-

3) Found Here. I like it and its title that reminds me of my Grandma.

I don't know this artist, but a quick browse through the rest of her (his?) images satisfied a need for dreamily conjured images I didn't realize I was so missing. They remind me of books I used to have as a child, all of my love for everything equine, and how many of the images in mind exist: fuzzy with sun and moonlight.

------------

And because searching Flickr gave me these I'll give them to you:

"Capture that feeling and you will understand what is means to be a person of destiny. "

This is beautiful and reminds me of Cabaret. Even though Sally was most certainly a blonde.

And finally, another creation from the first picture's creator above. I think that if (WHEN) I need cover art for something somewhere, that I would like to contact her. I enjoy the dreams matched with reality. If that isn't a snippet of me, I do not know what is.

"Photography records the gamut of feelings written on the human face, the beauty of the earth and skies that man has inherited, and the wealth and confusion man has created. It is a major force in explaining man to man."--E. Steichen

Its Easier to Play Dead Than to Be Alive

You can't be saved until you've seen where the alligator tears are coming from.
And you look into the eyes of the only one who could show you.
When you can see whats missing, and how you've been gone for oh so long.
Its easier to play dead than to be alive.
The act follows a script full of literate languge thats just muted and convaluted enough to resemble feeling and sense.
It all feels and seems so normal that the motions have you believing yourself.
That this was who you were supposed to be.
Buried doesn't mean forever.

-----------

Its funny to me how you think its always me thats trying to inspire awe. And how you only criticize the words when you think they've failed some grandeouse purpose. Not every peck on the keyboard is mine. Not every phrase is meant to make your mind spin. And I'm not making money, like he is. So take it up with them. Why won't you go away? Just baiting me for attention is low. You're one of the ones who cannot be helped by anyone with a semblance of normalcy. Maybe its the money. I'm sure its only amplified by it. Because I refuse to blame dollars and cents for your problems. You use it as a crutch and a microphone. Your accent is fake too. The funniest part is how I matter, and am driving you wild, in some twisted capacity.
I abhore the use of the word "waste" when it comes to people. But for you it just might be fitting in one way or the other. If you saw this your ego would suffocate everyone in the room with you. You never understand when each sylable wasn't created to build you up.
Go on now, go. Go go go.

Carnival Offsets

I'm either on or I'm off.
And the middle is either painfully static or such a mix of off and on that its as though you've known me for ages and never thought to hear me speak.
And I can stand in two countries at once. Each foot firmly planted in the land of "off" and the continent known as "on", respectively.
Straight up and leaning. Shuffle. Ball change; weights shifted.
Because no one can stand flat all the time.
Do you ever find yourself holding your breath and balancing on one foot?
Just as you notice, gasping for breath and struggling to stay on the wire, when your eyes flash white with the vision of falling.
I can remember the process of training myself to become more self-aware and then the deprogramming that was necessary to stop the endless obsession with over-analyzation.
How am I doing?