Technically not true... but the title is basically a non sequitur, so I don't need to worry about that.
I'm cutting down to half an hour online per day as of tonight. Now that I'm basically working full time plus some stuff on the side, that shouldn't be an issue. And considering that I spend maybe 10% at most of my time online actually communicating with other people (and this counts), I really shouldn't have any reason not to give it up. Maybe even the 90% of the half-hour, too. I'm certainly busy enough...
There's a problem here, though. I realized several minutes ago that, even though I've either been somewhere or been doing something important all day, I feel like my day has disappeared without anything happening. I feel almost no different than I would if I'd spent the entire day playing computer games.
I need to do something. With people. Like cycling or disc golf maybe. Or FourNet. Carl, we should find people available to do that. I'll probably have time next week, sometime in the evening.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
Apparently I can post stuff without a title, because I just did
I am exceedingly bored.
Also, my stomach is mad at me again. And I didn't even eat anything this time. Hmph.
Well. Regardless, I now have a full-time job.
I need to post stuff that's longer than one line.
I get to eat rhubarb crisp! Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss... happiness...
I am going to attempt to get all my pictures off my phone. Again. Ah, the wonders of no texting...
I hope the YSA conference next weekend is suitably interesting. It's basically my only chance to have interestingness on a reasonably large scale until I get to the MTC.
Also, my stomach is mad at me again. And I didn't even eat anything this time. Hmph.
Well. Regardless, I now have a full-time job.
I need to post stuff that's longer than one line.
I get to eat rhubarb crisp! Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss... happiness...
I am going to attempt to get all my pictures off my phone. Again. Ah, the wonders of no texting...
I hope the YSA conference next weekend is suitably interesting. It's basically my only chance to have interestingness on a reasonably large scale until I get to the MTC.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
This is not who I am.
It's everything,
It seems,
And yet it's not everything
It seems.
These cracks between intentions and reality--
Scars or tattoos,
I do not know,
There were too many hands in their making--
These cracks
Are the chains of existence.
And in these chains,
You are bound--
You, and you, and you--
Bound to my past
And futures.
I cannot release you,
I cannot recompense
For these chains.
They are not the bonds I desired.
And what of your chains,
Cast about me?
Surely I am not alone,
Am I?
----------------------------------------------
And when you say
Forgiveness,
I hear you,
And I know you believe in your mind.
I can see your heart, though.
It is easier
To say than be;
All these wedges are too far in.
You will go where you will.
Where will I?
I leave behind more
Than I once had.
I wake up,
And we are gone,
Leaving me to slay shadows.
----------------------------------------------
This is not home.
I do not know where home is,
Or if it is.
I am alone, separate, clueless,
Eager to find
Maybe you.
Experience is a swift teacher,
Silence, a servant
That at least will obey.
Bitter, eager, weathered, fresh,
And I can only do
With what I have.
Maybe it will be enough,
Eventually.
----------------------------------------------
You can see me
Because I can faintly see you,
And where I have acquiesced
Is where you are real.
If another forgets,
You will remember
Because I chose you to.
When I am gone,
What will happen?
You return, against prediction,
To you;
Maybe I will find you again
And be your memory.
At least we have that.
----------------------------------------------
And when everything is detached
From a context I never really understood in the first place,
I can see clearly where I think I am,
And where I was.
It took us too long to meet,
And our collision was a shadow of the dance
That never really was.
And when I say I wish I really knew you
So long ago,
I really mean it
Even though you may not realize
I need to.
----------------------------------------------
If and when we meet again,
Who will we be?
It is an eternity,
Condensed into a year--
A year for me,
A year for you.
There was always a better place for me
And you didn't bind yourself
Quite so firmly.
As long as the cycles of life tear us apart,
I'll be praying that yours
Can be a bit
Like mine.
----------------------------------------------
I see reality clenching its fist at you,
So familiar.
What you do not know
And what I do not know
Is our meager story.
There are others,
Far better.
But I have seen the legions arrayed against you
And I know them:
I fight them too.
If I really knew you,
Maybe we'd see.
----------------------------------------------
I will leave these dreams--
Daylight is the better part,
And I can be my own,
Even if alone.
I miss your company,
Never your chains
Wielded unaware.
I am sorry if you miss me too.
I pray we meet again
Someday.
----------------------------------------------
This reflection I see--
I can't erase it,
Try as I might.
Is this really who
I am?
Hideous.
I loathe
The grotesque features
And drooling mouth,
Dirt-streaked face and matted hair.
I want to squish
The vile thing,
Destroy its misery.
Me?
I look--
This is not what I see
Except at the mirror,
Where eyes penetrate.
This time, I beg
For your blindness.
----------------------------------------------
It seemed like a good idea at the time,
But like all good ideas,
It can only be counted on once.
This is not who I am.
It seems,
And yet it's not everything
It seems.
These cracks between intentions and reality--
Scars or tattoos,
I do not know,
There were too many hands in their making--
These cracks
Are the chains of existence.
And in these chains,
You are bound--
You, and you, and you--
Bound to my past
And futures.
I cannot release you,
I cannot recompense
For these chains.
They are not the bonds I desired.
And what of your chains,
Cast about me?
Surely I am not alone,
Am I?
----------------------------------------------
And when you say
Forgiveness,
I hear you,
And I know you believe in your mind.
I can see your heart, though.
It is easier
To say than be;
All these wedges are too far in.
You will go where you will.
Where will I?
I leave behind more
Than I once had.
I wake up,
And we are gone,
Leaving me to slay shadows.
----------------------------------------------
This is not home.
I do not know where home is,
Or if it is.
I am alone, separate, clueless,
Eager to find
Maybe you.
Experience is a swift teacher,
Silence, a servant
That at least will obey.
Bitter, eager, weathered, fresh,
And I can only do
With what I have.
Maybe it will be enough,
Eventually.
----------------------------------------------
You can see me
Because I can faintly see you,
And where I have acquiesced
Is where you are real.
If another forgets,
You will remember
Because I chose you to.
When I am gone,
What will happen?
You return, against prediction,
To you;
Maybe I will find you again
And be your memory.
At least we have that.
----------------------------------------------
And when everything is detached
From a context I never really understood in the first place,
I can see clearly where I think I am,
And where I was.
It took us too long to meet,
And our collision was a shadow of the dance
That never really was.
And when I say I wish I really knew you
So long ago,
I really mean it
Even though you may not realize
I need to.
----------------------------------------------
If and when we meet again,
Who will we be?
It is an eternity,
Condensed into a year--
A year for me,
A year for you.
There was always a better place for me
And you didn't bind yourself
Quite so firmly.
As long as the cycles of life tear us apart,
I'll be praying that yours
Can be a bit
Like mine.
----------------------------------------------
I see reality clenching its fist at you,
So familiar.
What you do not know
And what I do not know
Is our meager story.
There are others,
Far better.
But I have seen the legions arrayed against you
And I know them:
I fight them too.
If I really knew you,
Maybe we'd see.
----------------------------------------------
I will leave these dreams--
Daylight is the better part,
And I can be my own,
Even if alone.
I miss your company,
Never your chains
Wielded unaware.
I am sorry if you miss me too.
I pray we meet again
Someday.
----------------------------------------------
This reflection I see--
I can't erase it,
Try as I might.
Is this really who
I am?
Hideous.
I loathe
The grotesque features
And drooling mouth,
Dirt-streaked face and matted hair.
I want to squish
The vile thing,
Destroy its misery.
Me?
I look--
This is not what I see
Except at the mirror,
Where eyes penetrate.
This time, I beg
For your blindness.
----------------------------------------------
It seemed like a good idea at the time,
But like all good ideas,
It can only be counted on once.
This is not who I am.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
it can only be counted on once.
Is today another yesterday?
Tomorrow will be,
In two.
I reminisce into a memory hole,
Networking alone.
What is the past, if not
Whole? Unified?
Beaten into one yesterday
Out of many todays
And soon today.
It is a failing fight
To reach in, grasp a string
Amid the ruthless rigid form.
It chooses for me.
It, my grown child,
Friend and enemy.
-------------------------------------------------
The hands that grasp me are sleeping,
Clamped around my neck
In absence of intentions.
Why are you here?
I am sorry,
Unwilling servant of my enemy.
I will not resist.
Agency works two ways
But only one can see.
Captive of myself
And you.
I drew my own lines;
If I cross,
To whom do I answer?
Slave of agency,
I will let myself lose.
-------------------------------------------------
As if I was not enough,
I tear at the links on either side
Striving for a different chain.
Is it my place
To take hope in a hopelessness
That cannot recover?
When will I learn
To end?
It is the irrevocable
That I hate the most.
-------------------------------------------------
Easier than fighting
Is surrender.
I'll wait as long as I need to,
Because I have nothing else to do.
You'll find me if you look.
Maybe I'll stay.
I have nothing better to do.
What are needs
When we have ourselves?
I'll keep mine.
-------------------------------------------------
It is a strange riddle,
To let go
And be held on to
Without being grasped
And not releasing.
And I have a choice in half the matter,
Only half,
Entirely half.
Where is, and
What is my work?
Who can I trust
In their duty?
I fear them
Because I fear that they are like me.
-------------------------------------------------
I have seen eternities
Interact and detach.
Neverending, it seems.
I know the cycle
Of the realities,
Endless change.
And yet where all these intersect
In now,
I lose all dimension.
I am blind.
Take the present, and cast it aside.
We have all futures.
Where are we?
Threads dancing in
Asynchronous rhythm,
Touch, release,
All things fly in their course.
Where we are becomes where we were,
As infinite as time.
All we are tangent,
Intertwining and releasing
Across eternities.
-------------------------------------------------
All this is a display
For your benefit and mine,
But mine more particularly.
We are all pawns in this game I'm playing,
Me most of all.
Impressions are lies mixed with truth.
Interaction is truth presented in a lie.
I am masked deeper than even I know.
Take this
As a first and last warning:
You have never met me,
And probably never will.
-------------------------------------------------
What is so illuminating
About this darkness?
I see in depth
And clearly, in twisted sight.
In the cider press,
I crush away a bitter juice
Instead of sweet.
I embrace the blackness
To write bad poetry.
Sad.
-------------------------------------------------
I think I am fighting here
Against reality.
And so I do not need to win,
Only endure
Until reality changes.
After all,
This enemy is irrevocable.
And yet,
I have faced worse
And endured.
Tomorrow will be,
In two.
I reminisce into a memory hole,
Networking alone.
What is the past, if not
Whole? Unified?
Beaten into one yesterday
Out of many todays
And soon today.
It is a failing fight
To reach in, grasp a string
Amid the ruthless rigid form.
It chooses for me.
It, my grown child,
Friend and enemy.
-------------------------------------------------
The hands that grasp me are sleeping,
Clamped around my neck
In absence of intentions.
Why are you here?
I am sorry,
Unwilling servant of my enemy.
I will not resist.
Agency works two ways
But only one can see.
Captive of myself
And you.
I drew my own lines;
If I cross,
To whom do I answer?
Slave of agency,
I will let myself lose.
-------------------------------------------------
As if I was not enough,
I tear at the links on either side
Striving for a different chain.
Is it my place
To take hope in a hopelessness
That cannot recover?
When will I learn
To end?
It is the irrevocable
That I hate the most.
-------------------------------------------------
Easier than fighting
Is surrender.
I'll wait as long as I need to,
Because I have nothing else to do.
You'll find me if you look.
Maybe I'll stay.
I have nothing better to do.
What are needs
When we have ourselves?
I'll keep mine.
-------------------------------------------------
It is a strange riddle,
To let go
And be held on to
Without being grasped
And not releasing.
And I have a choice in half the matter,
Only half,
Entirely half.
Where is, and
What is my work?
Who can I trust
In their duty?
I fear them
Because I fear that they are like me.
-------------------------------------------------
I have seen eternities
Interact and detach.
Neverending, it seems.
I know the cycle
Of the realities,
Endless change.
And yet where all these intersect
In now,
I lose all dimension.
I am blind.
Take the present, and cast it aside.
We have all futures.
Where are we?
Threads dancing in
Asynchronous rhythm,
Touch, release,
All things fly in their course.
Where we are becomes where we were,
As infinite as time.
All we are tangent,
Intertwining and releasing
Across eternities.
-------------------------------------------------
All this is a display
For your benefit and mine,
But mine more particularly.
We are all pawns in this game I'm playing,
Me most of all.
Impressions are lies mixed with truth.
Interaction is truth presented in a lie.
I am masked deeper than even I know.
Take this
As a first and last warning:
You have never met me,
And probably never will.
-------------------------------------------------
What is so illuminating
About this darkness?
I see in depth
And clearly, in twisted sight.
In the cider press,
I crush away a bitter juice
Instead of sweet.
I embrace the blackness
To write bad poetry.
Sad.
-------------------------------------------------
I think I am fighting here
Against reality.
And so I do not need to win,
Only endure
Until reality changes.
After all,
This enemy is irrevocable.
And yet,
I have faced worse
And endured.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
but like all good ideas
A test--
Will I turn to the right or left--
I say, as if
It is not my decision.
There is a part of me
Deeper than agency.
I tell myself, anyway.
And I manipulate and dance about
And yet I never touch
Me,
As if I were another.
Self.
Where is self
And singularity?
Isolation is a hunger.
And a fast?
A fast to purify
All the cobwebs that may not exist?
To starve into submission
What is not a sin?
And amid all this,
What if the years deflate, and I am touched
By a curse I failed to cast away,
Despite my belief?
It is all the same, eventually,
And the memory is the fear.
----------------------------------------------------
I have bought into a cruel economics
In the name of reality.
The cheapest item, when lost,
May become precious as gold
Or as dust.
A dealer in second chances thrives
On the misery of the man
Who gave the first.
And I am all,
A god in these dealings--
I say, as I fall.
My suffocation
Will be my own.
Never yours.
----------------------------------------------------
In the poetry of the damned,
I take a verse and read.
It is my reflection staring back,
Sunken, gaunt,
A potential beyond my imagination.
His verse is familiar,
His voice,
My own.
Where we meet
Is where fear vanishes.
Disgust in division,
Desire in unity.
I am repulsed and drawn.
And when the spell is broken,
I see in his face
Desolation
And the spark of myself.
----------------------------------------------------
In this height,
I despise all heights.
The awakened sea beats;
I feel it, welcoming.
Deep it swallows, deep I stand,
Hard and cold.
Am I immune to erosion?
Weathered and tall,
Lofty and strong,
I shiver unmoving.
I will break before I bend,
I fear.
----------------------------------------------------
All this is mine,
This frail illusion.
Let me, at least, keep it.
Will I turn to the right or left--
I say, as if
It is not my decision.
There is a part of me
Deeper than agency.
I tell myself, anyway.
And I manipulate and dance about
And yet I never touch
Me,
As if I were another.
Self.
Where is self
And singularity?
Isolation is a hunger.
And a fast?
A fast to purify
All the cobwebs that may not exist?
To starve into submission
What is not a sin?
And amid all this,
What if the years deflate, and I am touched
By a curse I failed to cast away,
Despite my belief?
It is all the same, eventually,
And the memory is the fear.
----------------------------------------------------
I have bought into a cruel economics
In the name of reality.
The cheapest item, when lost,
May become precious as gold
Or as dust.
A dealer in second chances thrives
On the misery of the man
Who gave the first.
And I am all,
A god in these dealings--
I say, as I fall.
My suffocation
Will be my own.
Never yours.
----------------------------------------------------
In the poetry of the damned,
I take a verse and read.
It is my reflection staring back,
Sunken, gaunt,
A potential beyond my imagination.
His verse is familiar,
His voice,
My own.
Where we meet
Is where fear vanishes.
Disgust in division,
Desire in unity.
I am repulsed and drawn.
And when the spell is broken,
I see in his face
Desolation
And the spark of myself.
----------------------------------------------------
In this height,
I despise all heights.
The awakened sea beats;
I feel it, welcoming.
Deep it swallows, deep I stand,
Hard and cold.
Am I immune to erosion?
Weathered and tall,
Lofty and strong,
I shiver unmoving.
I will break before I bend,
I fear.
----------------------------------------------------
All this is mine,
This frail illusion.
Let me, at least, keep it.
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