tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-149980952011-05-10T03:00:40.088-04:00~limbs of a dismembered poetn8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.comBlogger1381100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-49053463093070799532009-01-28T11:02:00.004-05:002009-01-28T11:12:34.136-05:00

This is meaningless. There must be something more, something better.In an attempt to prevent myself from using any melodramatic, emo metaphors, I'll cut to the quick. This... isn't worth it to me anymore.Maybe one day I'll return. But it won't be here.Adieu.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-25528564313490166842009-01-26T16:31:00.003-05:002009-03-28T13:29:08.501-04:00

Finally, I get around to posting this.I'd put this with more ado, but there's not a whole lot to say. Just realize that it's not indicative of depression so much as progression.In the same vein as this one, this piece is "only" fifteen lines long.---i'm not much of a painter i blend the colors wrong i lay it on too thick i rarely please a canvas so i try for a thousand words instead i can

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-32365818722948280502009-01-23T11:31:00.000-05:002009-01-23T11:32:39.262-05:00

"...what do you get?"(this)

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-28209818749882613962009-01-19T11:14:00.006-05:002009-01-19T21:15:58.430-05:00

So. I guess I should talk about "For Her Forgiveness."As of early October, my dorm wall displayed "Why I haven't told you," the then-untitled "Expectation," and "For Her Forgiveness." Even after "Lady Liberty" joined the ranks (which was apparently a success), my favorite of the four was without a doubt "For Her Forgiveness." Was. I definitely vandalized "Why I haven't told you" with a lot of

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-72719159459594984822009-01-18T23:32:00.004-05:002009-01-19T20:12:28.613-05:00

This post makes a liar of me.Not because I'm about to tell you something that's blatantly untrue, but because I promised you a LOLcat in the last post... and I realized I can't deliver! I have no LOLcat for you! Here's why!The piece I intended to show you today was a response to recent developments in my life... but I came to discover that I hadn't yet posted the poem that the newer piece

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-58742038401015495662009-01-16T23:15:00.002-05:002009-01-16T23:30:48.089-05:00

I'm back from NY. Here's what you ought to know:It was awesome. If I was feeling motivated tonight, I'd write about it. Lots of good stuff.I brought my laptop to NY, and although I didn't have access to the internet, I did have access to a word processor. As a result, I managed to write something. Not a poem. Some heavy prose.Somewhat related to #2, I read Her by Lawrence Ferlinghetti over

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-65947514586501775832009-01-05T00:09:00.002-05:002009-01-05T00:13:16.939-05:00

...as if news of another hiatus should surprise anyone.I'm going to NY for two weeks. I won't likely update, thus, for at least the next two weeks. This trip is going to be awesome.In truth, I'm only telling you this so that my last post doesn't leave any of you under the impression that I'm not posting because I'm in some uber-depression or something. It's actually not that bad. I probably

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-34481886316046300022009-01-03T01:40:00.004-05:002009-01-03T02:08:33.701-05:00

Sadness to me is watching the breath of my heart become words on the screen, then watching the cursor wipe out the letters one by one, then seeing the blank screen where once echoed desperation now cry out silence, each emotion gone, each thought put down, each breath silenced.Sadness is silence to me--silence borne out of the inability to speak anything worthwhile.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-90906716698622374792008-12-31T12:44:00.002-05:002008-12-31T12:53:41.616-05:00

mm... here's the thing. My soul is, what you might call, asleep.After suffering a terrible blow to my psyche, I really lost all interest in meaningful things. Among these things, writing. Among these things also, my friends. Among these things furthermore, my Father. The air around here has been very stale. I am asleep, perhaps in my own self-interest. I sleep lest my soul die in the cold

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-64998718227343450442008-11-20T14:53:00.002-05:002008-11-20T15:29:58.046-05:00

As my more astute readers will notice, I've been quiet of late. Here's why.Busy with show-related stuff. I'm in The Diary of Anne Frank and have been tired.Busy with other class-related trash. My vocal ensembles have had far more concerts of late than I've wanted to participate in, and they've been chewing up my weekends.Lack of time midday. Too many classes/work back-to-back.Lack of food.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-22054527463771776682008-10-20T23:17:00.003-04:002008-10-20T23:21:00.271-04:00

"This is a revolution, damn it! We're going to have to offend somebody!"- John Adams, 1776

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-46352170023846306462008-10-07T01:31:00.009-04:002008-10-07T14:17:30.191-04:00

Wrote this tonight. I drew a lot of the style (as well as some of the terminology) from Ginsberg.This might be something I feel strongly about.And make no mistake about it--this poem is twelve lines long.-----"Lady Liberty"Men with canes told her she had it all she was good enough she couldn't handle more she was happy anyway they told her while they went off to smoke and sex and politics and

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-26703847426886427512008-10-04T17:12:00.003-04:002008-10-06T16:42:57.127-04:00

Thank K-Rex for this one. Actually, I would recommend reading "Confusion of the Senses" first--gives you a good feel for the style I was trying to imitate. This is a piece I'll be turning in for credit in my independent study. I loves it.Take a breath.-----"Expectation"I've left my better judgmentBetween dreams of pulling you closer.Our tranquil bodies leave no roomFor questions, for doubts.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-67831862824927846962008-10-01T18:36:00.003-04:002008-10-01T19:08:35.816-04:00

Seriously. It wakes you out of whatever you thought you were doing and demands that you turn the faucet and open it up, let it pour out into your medium and expand itself into your mind, onto your page, into your world.Then, of course, everything starts flooding and you can't place why; you know merely that it does--and that it's not worth staying dry when it pours like this.Anyway, I was

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-37858011676414042422008-09-26T16:08:00.003-04:002008-09-26T16:25:14.266-04:00

"I don't know when I noticed life was life at my expenseThe words of my heart lined up like prisoners on a fenceThe dreams came in like needy children tugging at my sleeveI said I have no way of feeding you, so leave."Indigo Girls, "Prince of Darkness"[I heard this song for the first time today and was particularly struck by this wad of lyrics, largely due to the fact that it almost perfectly

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-41941604436588774672008-09-24T21:25:00.002-04:002008-10-04T01:46:05.549-04:00

"Do you hear? We are breathing. We are alive."-Kenneth Rexroth, "Confusion of the Senses"

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-7393011580619508082008-09-22T16:10:00.001-04:002008-09-22T16:13:14.645-04:00

"A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds." - Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-29060632524105722252008-09-21T23:26:00.004-04:002008-09-21T23:29:48.857-04:00

"Oh Abigail, Abigail, I have such a desire to knock heads together!"- John Adams, 1776

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-76385783540460444652008-09-18T19:09:00.001-04:002008-09-24T15:54:30.018-04:00

[9/24/08: This poem is an example of unredeemed art. What I mean by that is that when I wrote it, I had basically shrugged off all the goodness of God's grace, all the power of his Spirit, and all the promises of his Word. It's something a man might write if he doesn't know God and has never felt his redeeming touch. As such, it is an indication of the fallen and broken world we live in. This

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-20710199731657926222008-09-18T02:22:00.002-04:002008-09-18T02:23:26.228-04:00

Gosh, I have an uncanny knack for being depressing; tomorrow/today you get another prime example.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-56629157200279405482008-09-16T23:57:00.010-04:002008-09-17T00:47:39.302-04:00

Comprehensive Listing ofMy Thought Processesrev. 9.17.08Section 4: "I hate..."4.56:Writing PoetryWhen I find inspiration from another's sadnessbecause it's taking advantage of their ill fortuneand it almost fuels a desire for it to continue so I canwhich makes me feel like a drug addict going through withdrawals (On The Road, 3)and I hate seeing her sadWhen certain factors don't allow me to

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-605829650449861642008-09-12T00:39:00.001-04:002008-10-03T09:26:36.162-04:00

Sad.If I had to categorize my chief underlying emotion right now, I'd describe it as a "profound sadness." And I hesitate to mention this, due largely in part to the fact that I don't wish to draw any additional attention to myself and to my emotional state. I don't want your sympathies. I don't want people to read this and say "Aww, poor guy. I love you and I hope you feel better soon." I'm

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-56540862972514737882008-09-08T18:58:00.004-04:002008-09-08T19:21:05.703-04:00

I've felt very muddled all day. The sky was gray, it was rainy, I slept through most of my classes... I felt overcast. I'm still not entirely with it right now. I was feeling Soundgarden for a good half-hour today, and then I tried System for the next half-hour... and for some reason I settled at Edwin McCain for the next hour.And now the point. In one of the songs I heard today, a woman says

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-60102499361715708232008-09-02T19:43:00.002-04:002008-09-02T23:07:33.728-04:00

I've recently discovered the benefits to carrying around a small notebook. One of the greatest things about it, I find, is that I can write things anytime I want. I decided to exercise this ability today during Chorale, and let me tell you--it was a good time. For those of you who've never been in a choir before, there can be a lot of sitting around. A perfect student would be reading ahead

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-24464070180498435772008-08-24T23:03:00.003-04:002008-08-24T23:08:42.287-04:00

This is brief.I traded my old laptop in today for a new one. My new one is basically the same as the old one, but with more space and probably better other specs.Oh yeah, and a fingerprint scanner.That's right, now I'm a friggin' secret agent. I log into my computer through the biometric power of my fingerprints. It won't be long until the computer gets retinal scan equipment and I log in

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-80579202030663849982008-08-23T11:38:00.004-04:002008-08-23T12:04:22.985-04:00

A good friend asked me for my thoughts on using mind-altering drugs for "creative purposes." I wrote out my answer for her, then realized it was worth sharing with the general public.I've got a very divided opinion as far as using mind-altering drugs to stimulate creativity goes. Here's why.1. Apparently cool stuff has been done with mind-altering drugs.As I mentioned in this post, getting

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-20523200635241423492008-07-26T21:13:00.004-04:002008-07-26T23:19:53.946-04:00

Over 8,300 characters. 8,300 characters of certain controversy. I can't share, sad to say, because it's not... how to put it... suggestive enough.Which is actually a contradiction in terms. See, it never comes out and says anything directly, so in that way it's very suggestive; but at the same time, it's so clear in its suggestions that it almost says exactly what it means to say without

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-83918051311076996812008-06-26T03:55:00.003-04:002008-06-26T04:15:01.422-04:00

...because sometimes, the opinions people spew really anger me. I won't even waste the time crafting a metaphor to describe my frustration, because it's not worth it.(And I must warn those of you with sensitive ears and minds, the post will contain links that feature profanity. I will also post the entirety of a comedy routine that contains a good share of undesirable language. Keep an open

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-49938389921400959062008-05-21T11:35:00.000-04:002008-05-21T11:32:53.908-04:00

This is case-in-point of a few things.Images from one poem, from one idea can open the gates for more to spring forth. I'm pretty sure that this is why people read poetry, see movies, read books, etc. We fill our heads with miraculous or stirring images and we are driven by them to produce more.The image in question is from the musical 1776. John Adams is sitting alone in Congress the night

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-56850935646383329992008-05-21T09:13:00.002-04:002008-05-21T09:30:33.392-04:00

So, I've been away from school for a little bit. Let me tell you, it is delightful. I piddle my time away not with assignments, but with leisure; I eat not false chicken dishes, but real meals; and I do not force myself to read books, but I take time away from Magic and from Final Fantasy 12 and I read them.I'm currently reading Wild At Heart by John Eldridge, and it's been phenomenal for me.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-58790274775614360402008-05-06T18:19:00.002-04:002008-05-06T18:25:09.539-04:00

Thought this was a good way to follow up my last post.I proofread all four of my papers and completed my assignment for voice lessons. That went fine. Turned in everything, submitted my play to a small company in New York... that's all done and fine. My last assignment for the year is to take a Philosophy test tomorrow. It's a total crapshoot for me, as I missed at least 1/3 of the class and

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-875986227638297212008-05-04T23:40:00.003-04:002008-05-05T00:03:09.912-04:00

Several Weeks Ago: I needed to get a play written in time for class on Thursday of that week. Began writing on that Wednesday. Churned out sixteen pages of writing. I was writing off and on for the entire day, though, and I did finish on that Thursday. So I guess I wrote the sixteen pages in a day and a half.A Few Weeks Ago: Sat down and plugged away, discussing Acting as a sacred art, not

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-68793587612452263592008-05-02T12:52:00.002-04:002008-05-02T12:54:52.418-04:00

In reference to the Little Women script:"This scene has not one, not two, but three kisses! And all of them mean something different! All of them have a different nuance. I'm telling you, kissing is an art of nuances."

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-18677413540801982422008-05-02T00:24:00.000-04:002008-05-02T00:25:01.897-04:00

(A progression on themes found here and here. It doesn't really matter who it's about.)---Damn it when you're near I cry out, my soul reaches out to tap you on the shoulder notice me see me please make eye contact but it never works because you're always walking away. I've grown accustomed to the back of your head but your eyes aren't bad either, all I'd ask is a kind word or a glance or a

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-40519036036184306812008-05-01T18:14:00.004-04:002008-05-01T19:19:14.591-04:00

This discussion on the usage of farther and further actually interests me.I had to confirm the correct way to capitalize Mom and my dad.Any issue of Dinosaur Comics about grammar, literary techniques, or crazy words captures my immediate attention. (I'm not kidding here, seriously)This also goes for xkcd, Toothpaste For Dinner, and Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal.On my desktop is a text

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-22718593152244157352008-04-24T01:46:00.002-04:002008-04-24T17:42:46.986-04:00

Facebook. We've all been there. Some of us are there multiple times a day. Some of us are there right now. It's not something I need to preface or explain any further. So let me ask this question:What does it really mean to be someone's friend on Facebook?Being my friend on Facebook allows you to view my profile, which includes my pictures and videos, and to leave notes on my wall. So if

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-23474506287554623062008-04-23T00:48:00.002-04:002008-04-23T00:52:55.273-04:00

I ran. It was a new country, a new land of vegetation, habitation, fascination. Delight. The grass was green and lush, the landscape magnificent, the air exotic and defiant. Fresh. Vivid. I wanted suddenly and only to explore. And it was so close.I ran, ran moving forsaking inhibition trying giving in to possibility and hope want make it a need make it a purpose just go for it believe that

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-52839116608375227562008-04-21T11:12:00.002-04:002008-04-21T11:25:46.540-04:00

Coming to this class is a waste of time. Skipping this class is a waste of money. If time truly is money I bear the same loss either way--but by coming to class I hinder my ability to complete the assignments. The teacher's barely here half the time. We should learn from his example.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-21030883626070977272008-04-21T09:58:00.001-04:002008-04-21T09:59:29.056-04:00

Coming to this class is a waste of time. Skipping this class is a waste of money. If time truly is money I bear the same loss either way--but at least by coming to class I'll do better on the tests.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-12127488705177076002008-04-21T01:38:00.009-04:002008-05-02T01:56:17.805-04:00

I can't tell any of you this, because most of you will take it the wrong way. Yet if I do not write this, the words will burn out from me and sear their forms on my forehead, on my chest and shoulders, all along my body, they will make themselves known by my tongue or by the pen, somehow they will be known. Might as well write it out, God forgive me. If you can't keep an open mind, best close

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-77448705401830775802008-04-15T15:39:00.007-04:002009-03-18T17:29:27.519-04:00

Sometimes it only takes a sentence.I'm considering revising it, actually. Kerouac stresses leaving spontaneous prose unedited, but sources have suggested that he himself edited many of his pieces. Even if he did, I won't fault him for it. I still like his guidelines. But as for this piece:I started with a necessity: "I must write a poem for class."I also started with a compulsion: "I must

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-82567807689754069892008-04-11T16:19:00.005-04:002008-04-11T17:59:08.184-04:00

Since the following essay contains spoilers for the plot of Little Women... For those of you who don't know what happens and want to be surprised when the show rolls around, here's the core idea of this post:Acting requires you to explore yourself, something that real life does not always require you to do.---Let's backtrack. I was feeling particularly eloquent today. I'm currently working on a

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-9946247622238530152008-04-02T09:56:00.005-04:002008-04-03T00:59:22.653-04:00

This is pitiful: I was getting myself ready for my Philosophy class, getting myself situated and setting up my laptop. I pulled it from my backpack, turned it on, and looked at my desktop. Hm, 7 new messages in my inbox. Why did I come to Philosophy today? I looked at one of my desktop notes- Jack Kerouac's List of Essentials for Belief & Technique of Modern Prose*. Number 30:

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-13015912795463482992008-03-28T01:41:00.004-04:002008-03-28T02:35:06.526-04:00

I can't say whether this is what I feel or even whether this is what I believe; I know only that this is what I wrote. I post it here because it belongs to a genre that, according to Kerouac, is not intended for editing or revising (as it is intended to be a slice of my stream of consciousness). As such, it can get no better.This is my fourth attempt at spontaneous prose. The first one is

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-15097317123646445302008-03-27T13:06:00.004-04:002008-03-27T14:13:33.918-04:00

This is brief:I woke up this morning to the alarm on my cell phone, as usual. To deactivate the alarm, I have to flip open my phone and press a button. When I open the phone, I see the following:Alarm!10:30 AM!However, given that I had just woken up, it looked more likeAaaah!10:30 AM!Which then inadvertently became my inner monologue. I woke in a panic.Of course, once I figured out what

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-5149849534438406802008-03-24T21:09:00.003-04:002008-03-24T21:36:25.431-04:00

So you all know, I'm in the process of writing a poem. It's for a class, but I like it. Normally I don't like writing for class. But I think I realized it has to be more like... I'm writing a poem, and I just so happen to be using it for class. That's happened once. Except in this case the occasion that I've stopped to write is because the class has demanded it. But really...And all of a

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-22462035868554097942008-03-18T13:14:00.002-04:002008-03-18T13:22:38.722-04:00

I keep hearing talk of Student Loans. Student Loans this, take out Student Loans, you can pay back Student loans later, everyone's taking out Student Loans, Student Loans are a good idea, etc.I laugh a little bit. I'm no expert on college, but even I know that paying back Student Loans is a tremendous pain for graduates. Most of us aren't going to have crazy high-paying jobs after graduation.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-21463188628372560022008-03-06T01:39:00.002-05:002008-03-06T01:58:49.436-05:00

I found my debit card today. I somehow left it at the last dining establishment I ate at. All is well.But this is the craziest part:Recently (I think it was last night), I had a dream that I had found my debit card. I dreamt that I pulled out my wallet and opened it, and stuck inside was the card. I was mystified. How did it get there? I already looked there! Why wouldn't I have noticed it

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-81330936132944247952008-03-04T11:27:00.003-05:002008-03-04T21:05:33.356-05:00

I can't find my debit card. Kind of a big thing to lose, actually. I'm almost sure that it's in either my car or my room, but I've scoured both regions to no avail. So I was freaking out a little bit when I realized that my car just reached "empty" and I had no simple access to my bank account.Then I remembered about my checkbook. All is good. I'm vigilantly watching my bank account just in

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-36536217419286358852008-03-03T23:03:00.004-05:002008-03-03T23:26:07.537-05:00

My status: Nate feels unusually sexy.---I said the following in an AIM conversation:i don't knowi just felt unusually sexy todayi shook my hipsi was going to do a sexy dancejust for myself, in a mirrorjust so i could show myself how sexy i was fully clothedand limberi just looked in the mirror and was satisfied with what I sawand i felt groovy, like dancingAnd for no particular reason.In closing,

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-15191315302395165452008-02-28T15:16:00.006-05:002008-10-01T18:48:00.567-04:00

Seriously, I really think mind-altering drugs are the way to go on this one.I've been reading here and there about the Beat Movement. I read Michael McClure's "Peyote Poem" and was instantly inspired to try writing in that style. I read Lawrence Ferlinghetti's "Constantly Risking Absurdity" and I was inspired to continue being a poet. I read Allan Ginsberg's "Howl" (long though it was) and

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-21474888984207437572008-02-26T02:09:00.004-05:002008-02-26T03:01:01.866-05:00

I'm half-cheating in a number of ways, actually. For now, suffice it to say that I'm posting this because I wrote it for class and it would make an appropriate blog entry. I suggested to someone that my next blog post would be a rant about the uselessness of my MWF morning classes, and that still holds good. The next time I sit down and say, "hey, why don't I post something on my blog?" it'll

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-9286650589979255372008-02-26T00:06:00.001-05:002008-02-26T03:24:06.360-05:00

Rational: Self-defense.Laudatory: Non-violent self-defense.Kind of mean: Self-defense at the expense of another.Irrational: Physical assault.Christian: Turning the other cheek (i.e. not fighting back, not trying to "beat them at their own game").Ironic: Being physically assaulted for a non-violent, verbal self-defense whose content was not intended to antagonize the attacker.I'm not looking for

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-18868240833151281632008-02-07T00:38:00.000-05:002008-02-07T00:55:55.643-05:00

Feb. 3, Status: Nate is preparing for the advent of his new Angel.Feb 5, Status: Nate has found a new Angel, and cannot decide on a name for her.Feb 6, Status: Nate is celebrating the arrival of Carmen Ex Machina.-----I got a new iPod. Her name is Carmen. She is beautiful.For my 16th birthday, I received a 20GB iPod. It went by two names; for a while I called it iNtravenous, but after a while

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-87136734602143508092008-01-22T21:35:00.000-05:002008-01-23T12:50:04.164-05:00

So... a threequel? What? You can't mean it!As with "Ghost," I'm only somewhat serious about this poem being a threequel. As I was trying to choose the last poem for this J-Term project of mine, I kept coming back to this one; as I reread it, I saw so much similarity between this poem, "Immersed in Silver," and "Ghost" that I feel the compulsion to call this a natural extension of the other

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-28469490367113084672008-01-21T23:50:00.000-05:002008-01-22T22:36:06.242-05:00

Contrary to what my writings might suggest, I really like chivalry.Stories pervade my life right now. Not only have I kind of been on a story binge of late with this poetry review, but I go to Cornerstone University; ever-popular buzzwords here include "Worldview," "Discernment," "Journey," "Leadership," and "Story." So, why not make Saturday's entry another story?Ironically, there is no story

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-37653362133490144972008-01-21T00:32:00.001-05:002009-01-19T11:19:52.328-05:00

I must post this one before I change my mind.I used to participate in The Starlite Cafe's "Teen Challenge" program; essentially, someone would give criteria for a poem, interested parties would write, that someone would pick the winner, the winner would establish criteria for the next poem, so on and so forth. I won a few times. I stopped participating in it mostly because there was such a lack

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-26827952875087976432008-01-20T22:15:00.000-05:002008-01-22T22:35:50.178-05:00

I'm not one to go back on a deal, so when I said you'd get a poem for every day of J-Term, I meant it. I took Saturday off, and Friday was booked beyond measure. Have no fear, I intend to compensate for the days I left off.But I've spent enough time watching films and sending e-mails. It's high time I comment on Ghost.What I often find with sequels is that they're dissatisfying. In one hand,

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-54922387962182737882008-01-18T00:53:00.000-05:002008-01-22T22:36:06.243-05:00

There are two reasons why I'm posting this poem.1. It's kind of a sequel to "Immersed in Silver." While it wasn't written with the intention of being considered a sequel, it was written using the same characters and themes from its predecessor. I seem to recall the night when I wrote the first draft of this piece; I thought to myself, "Why can I not write something like that other poem I wrote

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-81149198894850997752008-01-17T16:11:00.000-05:002008-01-22T22:36:06.243-05:00

I literally just got back into my room after my required outing today... I just wanted you all to know that I wasted no time in getting this piece to you. I'm as excited to post it back/write about it as some of you are to read it.Every time I read this poem, I fall more and more in love with it. I've got the first stanza completely memorized from frequent, obsessive exposure to it, and the

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-33882667382415189022008-01-17T00:26:00.000-05:002008-01-22T22:35:50.178-05:00

Ah, this poem has been begging to be reposted for years now.I said it of another poem this week, but there was a time that I considered the following poem to be my best work. This time, however, it was not simply because of the way it was received; it was because I actually recognized it as a good poem.Trying to revise this today was a challenge, mostly due to the fact that I've read it close to

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-337275143860342632008-01-17T00:02:00.001-05:002009-01-19T11:17:38.469-05:00

Not every poem has to be, like, an hour long to read. Even I can appreciate that sometimes.-----"She is my joy"She is my joy; I have to grinupon her very mentionshe is my light, my life rebornupon her interventionshe is my pain, the stabbing pulsethat stirs me into wakingshe is the rod that beats my souland watches my heart breakingand yet, I'll never let her gomy heart to her I've givenshe

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-43051876566532633952008-01-16T23:27:00.001-05:002009-01-19T11:19:18.281-05:00

Since I didn't post a poem yesterday (I blame Final Fantasy Tactics), I feel the urge to post two smaller poems to whet your appetites.Something about me: I have this awful tendency in my poetry to make everything heavy, thick, meaty... I'm big on fat sentences, but I also like to write long poetry, long lines... I want my poetry to quench the appetites of its readers; not to provide a light

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-87571845742505507392008-01-15T01:11:00.000-05:002008-01-22T22:36:06.244-05:00

This one hurts me to think about. It's also, by and large, one of my favorites. Slow your world down for a moment and prepare to receive it.There is nothing I can say to preface this piece.-----"The Hostage And The Gentleman"he stands with ready eagerness upon the moonlit vessel, surethat daylight's end will give him all the marvels he has soughtthe hours pass with anxious glee, the man

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-60615728425727426382008-01-13T15:02:00.000-05:002008-01-22T22:36:06.244-05:00

I just don't feel like spending much time editing this one, because it's good enough for right now.This piece begins to illustrate the conflict I was involved in during my later years of high school. Most of you have a passing familiarity with it... but rather than linking you back to the dark ages of this blog, I'll give you my summary: girl and I were involved off and on since we were high

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-72217470634316094642008-01-13T13:55:00.000-05:002008-01-22T22:36:06.244-05:00

So I neglected to write an entry yesterday... no worries; today I plan to do two.The following poem I wrote for my Mythology class in 12th grade. That might have been one of the more useful classes in I took in high school, as an understanding of such works gives me a great outlet for literary allusions.Anyhow, we were given an assignment to do something creative with one of the stories we read.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-20331454477062817422008-01-11T22:26:00.000-05:002008-01-22T22:36:06.244-05:00

At first glance it might appear that I overhyped the following poem. I did, after all, say that I once considered it my best work. This is completely true: there was a time where I looked at this poem as the pinnacle of my abilities in artistic romantic expression. Consider, now, that this poem was written either in '03 or '04... I daresay I wrote it the summer between my freshman and

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-82048040008957582402008-01-10T16:53:00.001-05:002009-01-20T12:00:18.168-05:00

"Non curo. Si metrum non habet, non est poema."- I don't care. If it doesn't rhyme, it isn't a poem.There was a time in my earlier writings as a poet that I believed that poems absolutely needed to rhyme. Seriously. I think a lot of that had to do with having read several bad non-rhyming pieces. I looked at what people called poetry and I failed to see what was poetic about it. I totally

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-53501168753071589572008-01-09T10:48:00.000-05:002008-01-22T22:36:06.245-05:00

Given that I keep calling myself a poet and have surprisingly little work on this site to show for it, I have a bizarre drive to post poems from my old Starlite account that I might actually claim as my own. I'm willing to face that a large amount of high-schooler poetry is drivel; nonetheless, I occasionally pounded out something worth mentioning. Here's a good one to start with, as it's the

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-5566961898479229702008-01-08T21:35:00.000-05:002008-01-22T22:38:23.315-05:00

The previous post notwithstanding, I'd like to declare this to be the newest post under my new blog template! I was definitely long overdue for a facelift.New look, new name, new year.Oh. Yes.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-69238868449421325142008-01-08T21:07:00.000-05:002008-01-09T10:32:45.541-05:00

I reexamine my past and consider that maybe, just maybe, pessimism truly is the best way to go.After all, it seems that I've only been hurt lately when I've been optimistic, when I've opened myself to unrealistic things and dared to venture into a world of uncertainties, maybes, what-ifs, could bes... the usual suspects.Seems like every time I've gotten my hopes up I've found them dashed to

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-73734596234107119732008-01-08T19:13:00.001-05:002008-01-08T19:13:36.862-05:00

Forgive the mess. This is under construction.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-27847013392188145592007-12-18T22:52:00.000-05:002007-12-18T23:07:53.316-05:00

So I saw this on my cousin's LJ, thought it was worth trying... and ultimately worth sharing somewhere.Brent says...Here's how this works:Go to Wikipedia, and click on "random article" a total of 12 times. The first one is your Rock Band Name, the second your Album Name, and the next ten are your song titles.So... here's what I got:-----Band Name: Ricky PlantAlbum Title: Swimming at the 1992

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-75436634810404936492007-11-09T16:27:00.000-05:002007-11-09T16:29:01.858-05:00

This comic makes me want to be an English major. I'm not kidding.http://www.qwantz.com/archive/001104.html

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-73957178104574964162007-10-23T13:14:00.000-04:002007-10-23T23:12:24.782-04:00

Get this:Pure craving is pain. Few people starving for food would describe the feeling as enjoyable. Loneliness is rarely referred to as being fun. Feeling poor, restricted or lacking are all forms of pain. Hope that tomorrow might be a bit better is only a small relief for the pain of craving. The Buddha is right, desire is suffering.Just finished reading this article, thought it had an

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-3498530004687680812007-10-22T00:41:00.000-04:002007-10-22T00:45:52.413-04:00

(Note: this is as of now unrevised. I'm getting sleepy and would like very much to go to bed. Hopefully I get my point across well enough for today! Editing is tedious sometimes, but it's absolutely necessary. I'll revise this another time, I bet.)So here's a brief anecdote: I was working on set construction for our upcoming play last night. I was using a drill with a screwdriver bit to

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-86939436265790800562007-10-20T01:24:00.000-04:002007-10-21T17:07:56.761-04:00

Of late I've felt an overwhelming energy within that I've had to fight to keep tame. It shook my body when it first came upon me, affecting all aspects of my being: my body felt lighter, my senses were heightened... even the sky seemed more vivid. When I noted the power of this unbridled emotion, I was inspired. Rather than keep it to myself, I felt it best to put it to good use. A few days

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-61573470660962517782007-10-19T00:29:00.001-04:002007-11-07T12:21:37.927-05:00

Here comes the part where I vomit.Feel free to visit the below links, compare/contrast, do whatever. I'm too lazy to do another post like Chivalry, especially since I discussed superstitions once before!1) http://lecatr.people.wm.edu/theatrical_superstitions_and_saints.html2) http://www.kclibrary.org/guides/arts/index.cfm?article=read&articleID=5183) http://www.ncic.org.uk/

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-1888880147303981792007-10-17T12:22:00.000-04:002007-10-18T00:28:39.475-04:00

can i call it all a waste? what's the purpose? why should we dream?i can't help but feel as if God spits in my face right now. am i paying for my transgressions? i know You're not a spiteful God, but what is this really about? a lesser man might blame it on karma, or on ill fate... but i'm certain--paranoid, absurd, but certain--that this is entirely Your doing. i hate You sometimes, You know

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-11773983590047375602007-10-16T23:22:00.000-04:002008-01-22T22:36:06.245-05:00

I'm impatient. Here's the project.---"I would be the air you breathe"1:00 AM 10.14.077:30 PM 10.14.07-----i would be the air you breathethat in passing you might draw me closeand take me in to revive your whole personthat a deep breath of me would calm youand with a soft breeze i could caress youthat you would pant for me when you are wearyand call on me to soothe you, ease your tensionsthat, in

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-75444879621727458462007-10-14T00:17:00.000-04:002007-10-14T00:19:24.061-04:00

In case I don't finish this project tonight, let it be said:You are so beautiful.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-17475049526967618502007-10-09T21:54:00.000-04:002007-10-09T22:04:55.078-04:00

My heart quickens and refuses to stop; I can hardly concentrate on this accursed paper I'm tasked to write. Would that I could convince this heart of mine to save its folly for another night! Is this the call of inspiration, or another ethereal distraction? Please, I beg you to leave my head for the night and let me continue with my work!And yet, the thought of abandon within this haze---oh,

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-43661505248601139132007-09-22T14:28:00.000-04:002007-09-22T14:36:53.760-04:00

"Ladies first."What does that truly mean? Is that an outward expression of a man's desire to put a woman before himself? Is it a social more that men have gradually come to accept? Or is it merely an expectation on the part of women that they are to go before a man?Some appeal to the idea of chivalry. Chivalry, friends, referred originally to a code and a standard of conduct practiced by

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-65422039691668495402007-09-22T14:22:00.000-04:002007-09-22T14:22:52.550-04:00

A friend: "ok so I need a creative partner who wants to join in writing my new play...you are the perfect candidate."Me: "uh... what makes me the perfect candidate? I've only been considered perfect for one thing and that went up in flames."

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-82527489507168310732007-07-30T23:53:00.000-04:002007-07-30T23:54:03.885-04:00

Nate is burning in the anguish of his temporal suspension and hopelessly devoid of the means by which he can extricate himself from the numbing tangleweb of his fate. The remedy will come with the next morning light, but the funeral pyre yet blazes deep into the midnight haze.---I tried to post all of that into my "current status" thingy, but it turned out to be information overload. Managing

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-49274282167243044232007-07-22T22:37:00.001-04:002007-07-22T22:42:51.771-04:00

One day at the movie theater, a little boy looked inquisitively at a board full of paper stars.Little Boy: "What are all those stars for?"Nate: "Those stars are from our Stars of Hope program. Each one represents someone who donated a dollar to help cure cancer."Little Boy: "Oh."(Pause)"What's cancer?"Nate: "It's a disease that kills people."Little Boy: "Oh, cool!"At which point the boy walked

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-8891229953222561512007-07-19T00:26:00.000-04:002007-07-19T00:41:42.617-04:00

My Status: Nate is understandably disappointed at another awakening.---My Status, Later: Nate is reaching through the mists of eternity, sifting through an ethereal haze, searching for her face within the jubilant winds."---Friend: "Are the winds jubilant because you look like a fool reaching through the mists of eternity, or because you are eagerly desperate to find her?"Me: "Who can say why the

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-42967071730493883192007-05-29T13:15:00.001-04:002007-05-29T13:20:45.967-04:00

For those of you who have never beheld Dinosaur Comics... Ah, I lament for you.You must read this. No questions asked.That is all.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-76317458780043631072007-05-25T14:30:00.000-04:002007-05-25T14:36:19.832-04:00

So yeah, sorry about not finishing the Notes at all. Sometimes I feel as if I'm writing for nobody but myself, and that's not a highly motivating force to finish. After all, why should I explain to myself something I wrote, the person who knows that something more clearly and intimately than anyone?But, just so you don't feel like I've totally abandoned you, check out this short article. The

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-50203157802316325022007-05-11T01:24:00.000-04:002007-05-11T01:41:40.942-04:00

I guess this is one way to look at it."Shopping for shoes has emerged as a powerful means by which women assert their autonomy," Klein said. "Owning and wearing dozens of pairs of shoes is a compelling way for a woman to announce that she is strong and independent, and can shoe herself without the help of a man. She's saying, 'Look out, male-dominated world, here comes me and my shoes.'"(taken

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-71010537426092694142007-04-27T00:50:00.000-04:002007-04-27T01:19:04.439-04:00

Having opened the Notes with an over-arching discussion of the poem's themes, I will now continue them with a discussion of each individual section. I concede that, like a bad father, there are certain sections I prefer to other ones. I'm not going to be super-professional and/or smooth about parts of my writing; seeing as this and most of my pieces are as of yet works-in-progress, I will

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-53135383437909277342007-04-24T21:21:00.000-04:002007-04-24T21:27:59.750-04:00

I want this string of random site posts to end as much as you do. You can blame this interlude of not-continuing the Notes on the two papers, the one acting scene, and the three songs I essentially have to complete/prepare by Thursday. and friday. and next tuesday.But anyway, this is proof positive that you should keep a close eye on what your children are doing.Speaking of close eyes, are you

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-42617434338801985042007-04-24T00:58:00.000-04:002007-04-24T00:59:51.165-04:00

...but nobody ever buy this for me. Please.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-11177522738321277102007-04-21T13:35:00.001-04:002007-04-21T13:35:41.380-04:00

I have no words.

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-1161064146738706992007-04-18T01:45:00.000-04:002007-04-18T01:43:18.813-04:00

(This is a continuation of this post; both the original content of this post and the earlier one were written on October 16, 2006. You should probably read through the other post to appreciate this one. About dang time, I say.)Okay, so the second movement has just contained images of lightning, shadows, suffering, sadness... it ends in a somewhat repetitive invitation for death.(Here's where my

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-46104694215399492682007-04-18T00:36:00.000-04:002007-04-18T00:40:01.496-04:00

Suffice to say that this poem is exceedingly long, and that to write about everything I want to would take an exceedingly long time. Nonetheless, I see little point to writing Poet's Notes for things if I'm not going to take the time to express or discuss everything that merits discussion. That said, I've been wondering how I'd go about discussing in a single post this poem, this piece of

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-53404300435887975522007-04-16T19:28:00.000-04:002008-01-22T22:36:06.245-05:00

It's only a rough draft, but I don't imagine it'll see any serious revisions in the next couple of days.And... I doubt you'd appreciate it as much as you should without the necessary backstory. There have been numerous entries in this blog about it, and I've even made a brief "videography" on the subject. Interested persons in the Cornerstone University area can apply at my e-mail address to

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-29194736806422762042007-04-16T01:04:00.000-04:002007-09-22T23:33:23.239-04:00

Fifteen sections.In size 12 Times New Roman font, copied and pasted, with all spaces and section headers removed, it breaks into a sixteenth page.Yes, I said it. A sixteenth page.It's so much longer than anything I've ever written. for reference, Perish, Love is 146 lines long. Microsoft word has just said that this one contains 693 lines.But what is a line? A line in this poem is every time

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-760565765019898692007-04-12T13:35:00.000-04:002007-04-12T13:39:21.223-04:00

I Never Talk On The First Date.onion_embed {background: rgb(256, 256, 256) !important;border: 4px solid rgb(65, 160, 65);border-width: 4px 0 1px 0;margin: 10px 30px !important;padding: 5px;overflow: hidden !important;zoom: 1;}.onion_embed img {border: 0 !important;}.onion_embed a {display: inline;}.onion_embed a.img {float: left !important;margin: 0 5px 0 0 !important;width: 66px;display: block;

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14998095.post-14173208191621578752007-02-04T23:55:00.000-05:002007-02-05T00:06:52.076-05:00

The color scheme here is supposed to give the blog a more Izzet feel to it. In short, Izzet is a guild in the Magic: The Gathering world that is driven primarily by passion and intellect. They have a thirst for knowledge and innovation, but they often seek to learn things through reckless and dangerous experimentation. They're dangerous, but they're friggin' brilliant.Oh, and here's a random

n8http://www.blogger.com/profile/03435149405250644537noreply@blogger.com0