The January wind cracked
Spreading the crystallized air through
Bare
Deciduous trees and empty playgrounds
High above
Condensed vapors cling
Before they fall
Like a thousand angels
Fighting
An expired war
Far below
Shuddering branches whisper
To a tattooed
Playground tube
Here comes our blanket
Arbitrary Fame is based on my personal concept of definition. Definition is innate. It is a silhouette on the horizon. Definition comes in many different ways. Some are personal and only we, ourselves, understand them. Other forms of definition are dependant on our interactions and relationships with the people around us. I am a brother, a son, a friend, and a writer. These are my writings. This is me.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Painted Seagulls for William Slater
A twinkle in my eye
passed from the past
when dreams were ideal and a meal was peeled.
This interwoven thread called my past is not yet past.
The twinkle remains and
so do I.
passed from the past
when dreams were ideal and a meal was peeled.
This interwoven thread called my past is not yet past.
The twinkle remains and
so do I.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
All The Right Signs
Movie night.
Approximately 2ft. 1inch of couch separate her from me. To compliment and add to the space, two distinct and unique blankets, made by her grandmother, individually cover her and me. Her legs are crossed; The right over the left, facing away from me. My legs are also crossed, mirroring her cross. Her hands fold nicely, one upon the other, resting in her lap. A fold so nice and comfortable looking it seems to say, no room for another. So I keep my hands in my own lap. She turns to say something. I turn to meet her gaze. As I turn I lean........back 8 inches, increasing the distance to 2ft. 9 inches. Back to the movie; Back to 2ft. 1 inch.
The movie ends.
She stands and walks to a book shelf. I stand as well. We talk about books. We sit down again. This time 4ft. and a coffee table separate us. Polite conversation resumes. That was a great movie. I love Indian food. I should take you home. Okay.
The car pulls into the driveway. Thank you. You're welcome. No hug tonight. Last time there was a hug. I open the door and step out. Good night. Good night. I close the door. She drives away.
I can't help but think I missed a sign.
Approximately 2ft. 1inch of couch separate her from me. To compliment and add to the space, two distinct and unique blankets, made by her grandmother, individually cover her and me. Her legs are crossed; The right over the left, facing away from me. My legs are also crossed, mirroring her cross. Her hands fold nicely, one upon the other, resting in her lap. A fold so nice and comfortable looking it seems to say, no room for another. So I keep my hands in my own lap. She turns to say something. I turn to meet her gaze. As I turn I lean........back 8 inches, increasing the distance to 2ft. 9 inches. Back to the movie; Back to 2ft. 1 inch.
The movie ends.
She stands and walks to a book shelf. I stand as well. We talk about books. We sit down again. This time 4ft. and a coffee table separate us. Polite conversation resumes. That was a great movie. I love Indian food. I should take you home. Okay.
The car pulls into the driveway. Thank you. You're welcome. No hug tonight. Last time there was a hug. I open the door and step out. Good night. Good night. I close the door. She drives away.
I can't help but think I missed a sign.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
A Look In Your Eyes
Looking into your eyes melts my resolve like,
a glistening piece of Spam.
Spam the reject of all...... Hero of none.
Those pieces of cow-
pig, dog, horse, maybe even rat.
smashed, bashed, thrice diced, liquefied, and congealed.
That pinkish, chunky cube, and the way it resists leaving the can.
You can't say no to Spam.
The slurping of victory as Gravity prevails- and the Spam slips from that tiny, tin can. Gravity always prevails.
Fried Spam, Boiled Spam, Oven Roasted Spam, Honey-Glazed Spam, Curried Spam, Pickled Spam, and just plain old Spam from the can.
Yes, Spam...
Hero of none, rejected by more than some.
Nothing like a nice, big, juicy piece of Spam
a glistening piece of Spam.
Spam the reject of all...... Hero of none.
Those pieces of cow-
pig, dog, horse, maybe even rat.
smashed, bashed, thrice diced, liquefied, and congealed.
That pinkish, chunky cube, and the way it resists leaving the can.
You can't say no to Spam.
The slurping of victory as Gravity prevails- and the Spam slips from that tiny, tin can. Gravity always prevails.
Fried Spam, Boiled Spam, Oven Roasted Spam, Honey-Glazed Spam, Curried Spam, Pickled Spam, and just plain old Spam from the can.
Yes, Spam...
Hero of none, rejected by more than some.
Nothing like a nice, big, juicy piece of Spam
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Light The Way
I close my eyes. Close your eyes too.
I can see it again.
Someone this close is not supposed to be like that.
Trust? How?
Tau lotu, you can pray too. It might help.
Light my sky, like mana fetu'u. Light it like it should be.
Maybe this is why. Every damn time.
I close my eyes, hoping to see a way.
fie'ilo. fie'ilo. fie'ilo.
Close your eyes, help me find the way.
I can see it again.
Someone this close is not supposed to be like that.
Trust? How?
Tau lotu, you can pray too. It might help.
Light my sky, like mana fetu'u. Light it like it should be.
Maybe this is why. Every damn time.
I close my eyes, hoping to see a way.
fie'ilo. fie'ilo. fie'ilo.
Close your eyes, help me find the way.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Knocking With The Wind
The way they connect, leaves me breathless. Together they form a thought, or an idea. This idea flickers across my conscious: whispering to my blood. To take a step, just one step, would set me on a path. Towards what? Oblivion is obviously staying here. So that step that started with a whisper, created from a thought, leads somewhere I must go. The cliche would be to say, "I must find myself". In a sense this is false; I know who I am. Why does this whisper speak to my desire? I need this to satisfy my curiosity. I might bend, maybe even break. Maybe, hopefully I will stand tall with a spark of spirit in my eye. I need this, not to find myself: to define myself. All of this started with one simple thought; instigated by intertwining, smoothly justifying, obnoxiously satisfying: words.
Breathless, but to No Avail
A few months ago I had a night that left me breathless. It started out like most Friday nights: met Taylor, went to campus to find girls, failed, went to a free concert. So there we are just the two of us at a free concert. At that moment I had no idea what type of a night it would become. I had no idea that by the end of the night I would have 4 exciting moments. Moments that stole my breath, and left my feet dangling somewhere above my head.
Moment 1:
She was on stage. Like usual I joked about talking to her and getting a number. Eventually she finished singing and stepped down to mingle with the crowd. This was my chance, she was walking right by me. As she passed within a foot of my personage I stood like a stone sculpture. Missed my chance. My gut was tied into a square knot. Sometimes I wish I would just forget all the other guys around and make a move. But I was chicken. So I stood around waiting for the next band. Meanwhile my self confidence was slowing molding. Looking to my left I saw her about fifty feet away. I couldn't take it. "I"m doing it" I told Taylor. I walked over and introduced myself.
"Hi you were great tonight" I said awkwardly.
"Thanks, what was your name?" she replied.
"My name is Zac. Do you think I could get your number" I asked. Making an awkward situation more awkward.
"Ya, do you have a pen?" she asked.
"No, but...."
"Here's my bands business card, There's a number on there".
"Thanks" I said, and walked away.
Yep thats story 1. Awkward, and hardly successful. At least I wasn't completely shut down.
Moment 2:
We were still at the concert. I was experiencing that exultation that follows putting yourself on the line. Its kind of a giddy exultation. The current band announced that the next song would be a great song to hold someones hand during. Taylor stuck his hand out to a girl, but she rudely ignored it. I rudely laughed. Then I saw a good looking brunette just a few feet away. Letting my giddiness get the better of me I said, "Watch this". I shouldered my way through this girls friends and got her attention. I stuck out my hand and said, "The band said we should hold hands". Surprisingly she consented. For a whole song I held this girls hand.
Moment 3:
Isn't much of a story. I thought I saw Rachel. You know the Rachel that danced with fire in her eyes (see earlier post). But she disappeared before I could make sure, or get her number.
Moment 4:
So the night was waning. The concert ended, we went looking for a party, didn't find one. Went to visit a friend, she wasn't home. Eventually we settled on getting drinks at Spark (a restaurant lounge). It didn't take long before we noticed the singing Rachel was there with her friends. I weighed the options. Before I had made a fool of myself. I'd been ultra awkward. But this was my chance to make up for it. I could send her a drink, but that was cliche. I could take her a pen, but then I risked repeating my earlier mistakes. With advice from Taylor I made a decision. I borrowed a pen from our waiter, and wrote the on the back of her bands business card, Rachel # ?. Then I had the waiter take it over to her. As he pointed me out to her I waved. She sent her number over with a friend. Apparently she was too embarrassed to face me. In retrospect I should've know that as a bad sign. She never answered when I called.
Moment 1:
She was on stage. Like usual I joked about talking to her and getting a number. Eventually she finished singing and stepped down to mingle with the crowd. This was my chance, she was walking right by me. As she passed within a foot of my personage I stood like a stone sculpture. Missed my chance. My gut was tied into a square knot. Sometimes I wish I would just forget all the other guys around and make a move. But I was chicken. So I stood around waiting for the next band. Meanwhile my self confidence was slowing molding. Looking to my left I saw her about fifty feet away. I couldn't take it. "I"m doing it" I told Taylor. I walked over and introduced myself.
"Hi you were great tonight" I said awkwardly.
"Thanks, what was your name?" she replied.
"My name is Zac. Do you think I could get your number" I asked. Making an awkward situation more awkward.
"Ya, do you have a pen?" she asked.
"No, but...."
"Here's my bands business card, There's a number on there".
"Thanks" I said, and walked away.
Yep thats story 1. Awkward, and hardly successful. At least I wasn't completely shut down.
Moment 2:
We were still at the concert. I was experiencing that exultation that follows putting yourself on the line. Its kind of a giddy exultation. The current band announced that the next song would be a great song to hold someones hand during. Taylor stuck his hand out to a girl, but she rudely ignored it. I rudely laughed. Then I saw a good looking brunette just a few feet away. Letting my giddiness get the better of me I said, "Watch this". I shouldered my way through this girls friends and got her attention. I stuck out my hand and said, "The band said we should hold hands". Surprisingly she consented. For a whole song I held this girls hand.
Moment 3:
Isn't much of a story. I thought I saw Rachel. You know the Rachel that danced with fire in her eyes (see earlier post). But she disappeared before I could make sure, or get her number.
Moment 4:
So the night was waning. The concert ended, we went looking for a party, didn't find one. Went to visit a friend, she wasn't home. Eventually we settled on getting drinks at Spark (a restaurant lounge). It didn't take long before we noticed the singing Rachel was there with her friends. I weighed the options. Before I had made a fool of myself. I'd been ultra awkward. But this was my chance to make up for it. I could send her a drink, but that was cliche. I could take her a pen, but then I risked repeating my earlier mistakes. With advice from Taylor I made a decision. I borrowed a pen from our waiter, and wrote the on the back of her bands business card, Rachel # ?. Then I had the waiter take it over to her. As he pointed me out to her I waved. She sent her number over with a friend. Apparently she was too embarrassed to face me. In retrospect I should've know that as a bad sign. She never answered when I called.
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