things either come alive...

...or they fall flat.

oh my love in vain

...

i felt very little tonight for the ones who were not by my side. i felt very little for the friend whose sole aim is to critisize. i felt very little for the enemy who lurks within familiar surroundings. i felt very little for old flames who never returned love to its fullness. i felt very little for academia, for thelove of knowledge, for the desire to change the world. i felt very little for the poet, and the poem. i felt very little for the stranded midnight, hurrying down the square under pouring rain, not knowing where i stand or whom i stand with.

i felt very little for everything, except for that loyal dylan song in my ear.

let's stick together

ah drained from critisizing milton friedman--one should be careful though sometimes when you get too lost in critisizing you fail to produce anything new that is of worth. i have no life for now, too much crap to get done, including the thesis proposal. i am seriously f****d up though- i go from 'i can't take it i'm gonna crumble and die' to singing randomly to cheap pop songs staring outside the bus window, fully exposing my randomness to the passing vehicles, mostly joyful. i also noticed something very dangerous about myself, i forget my miseries when accompanied by others--now you may say where's the danger in that?--but it is not as lovely as it sounds, for you fail to struggle with the dark dark emotions and forget and smile and laugh and wear yourself out and then in a dark hour just as those feelings themselves when you're about the close your eyes or when you're in your room in a blank moment--they come prowling and you are alone and defenseless. listened to some old dylans today--dylan and zepp-the two seasonless gods--blasted all my upbeat zepps on my way to school as well--i fear that one day i may grow so old that i won't like music this much anymore--this life of force--what a waste that would be.

...

"you've taught me everything you are... I need a new amigo."

W.S.B.

forget things i did when i was cruel, cruel, cruel

a wise man once growled: you can never hold back spring. you can never really hold back anything that's bound to happen anyhow, but spring is now here and i'm thinking for good this time, and i have as always shit load of crap to deal with, mostly school-initiated. this year's been the toughest for some reason, i have an avarage of 2 papers and 1 page latin translation per week which takes more time than you think.

so as you would guess my streams of creativity have been forced to dry out leaving their lively shimmer to bleak grey obligations. i'm trying to muddle through anyhow in the meantime infecting my most certain friends with a dangerous dose of uncertainty--not to take any credit but perhaps i would say it's better to doubt now that to doubt 5 years from now--we think life is long and endless but it's endlessly in danger if you ask me--why waste time with anything that does not fully capture your heart? others would say time flows and if you can't decide on anything now than time won't stick around and wait for you to do so. which is true in itself. perhaps truer than my way of seeing things. dylan was 20 when he hitchiked to new york city. ezra pound knew what he wanted to do when he was 15. perhaps those who can not decide (such as myself) are those who are not incredible. who are not extraordinary. that's always a thought.

the burning pink hyacinth mother bought is now dead and gone, i'm keeping the last paragraph of my naked lunch to a precious coffee session tonight. had an insane day yesterday starting from a morning coincidence like no other: seeing a friend in the most unlikeliest place in the whole town and i realized surroundings come alive through those that are in them--we walk through streets and sidewalks and alleyways without really perceiving them unless someone faimiliar enters in and then all comes to life. anywho it was an incredibly long day though--with many unfortunate events--had to change vehicles about 12 times until the moment i walked home, possible spent over 6 hours on the road in a single day, that is. so am tired and beat and a little aching, but latin calls, and i should end it here before it gets cheesy--

and i think this song has enough spring and enough aching and just enough undecisiveness in it-so enjoy. cheers.

moonshiner

i think sometimes something bad happens somewhere. this sudden and desprate despair falls on one's shoulder. you can't name the source you can't find the remedy. it just squeezes your chest and pulls down the bottom of your stomach. then bitterly you curse yourself, your mistakes, your spoiled behavior. you see youself under not so bright lights. it flees hopefully as it settles but man, this iron block in my chest--right this very second.

i have hundreds of pages to organize, a paper to write which i haven't yet started, but those are such minor troubles that they can not explain this sudden restlessness. a symphony of hells as rimbaud would say. he's oddly appropriate for tonight.

shake off shake off. new day tomorrow, this week--and any week these days--never ends--they're longer, tougher, and i'm tired, i ran out of ideas to impress people by.

the rest

who would have thought me of all would slowly grow quiet? funny business but turns out it takes time to pick up these things again. but i have missed it, that is the honest to god truth but man a part of me mustta been relieved with the liberation of having slipped from that role of a mediator--a role of a wicked messenger(yeah i bet bobby would have loved that one). the less you write the less it feels like you need to write--except for this momentary pain that strikes in the middle of your chest--truth is you see little difference it makes, whether you do or do not, and the less you appoint meanings to actions the less you seem to be fascinated by their existence. stop writing and you realize you actually can stop writing--stop writing and you realize nothing changes and the world moves on and you move on as well and sadly you see it is no air you breathe. you do survive.

you do become mediocre though. you suddenly lose a vital chord that you used to be tied to the high and the mighty--the pounds the joyces the blakes the dylans even--the mightiness and the beauty stops flowing in. you feel excluded.

the last day or two have been a little confusing--things have been going rather i wouldn't say terrible but unluckily would be i guess a proper word. besides that strange strange happenings have been taking place--the whole year book graduation crap has been coming down. been questioned quite frequently for the last 3 days on what i'll be doing later on in my life--i think at some point people just grow bitter and resentful of having been forced to decide and decide all their life so they can not happily admit the youngster w/ honey in her mouth and figeting fingers. they look at the undecided spirit and curse having been decided themselves.

why not undecide? i've undecided a whole lotta things in my life. i've undecided loyalites i've undecided friendships i've undecided ideoligies. i've undecided love. i sure as hell can undecide pretty much anything after that.

plus there this funny belief in some kind of a higher notion--not a god or a prophet but a magical stream of balance in the world--i do not mean that in fairness, for world is anything but fair--but in extraordinary events--like a passion or a soul mate or the perfect job/decision/adventure--i happen to believe that those come unplanned and unprepared. the perfect ones find you not the other way around.

but then again all that could be the blabbering of a kid. i realized the other day that i can just sit for half an hour and think and not get bored. not think of high political strategies or anything but just think. i'm not sure if that makes me terribly boring, or just ridicilously entertaining.

anyways i really wasn't planning to post today but this came out, and that friendly mellow feeling has returned of just rambling endlessly. ezra's getting impatient and quite frustrated with my abilities to form a proper thesis argument and i try to tell him that i'm not that bright anyways, and him of all people should know that.

be well people.

make your move make amends

friends. friends. spinning storylines at this point. never been too lucky with that--i can be unbearable and insincere. as we all can be. but i believe at least at the at the end of the day we all deserve a proper goodbye. it's a scary thought to for a second consider that you are eternal in someone's life. it's even scarier to think that you aren't. we all grow apart. we all grow estranged. i've been through this enough times to know.

...

will come back with a list of what you've missed over the ban. till then i have some reading to do with my beautiful burning pink hyacinth on my table and ihlamur coming up real soon. a little stuffy up on the bridge of my nose. crazy week up ahead--lotsa deals have to be strike--but we'll see. i have to study now. cheers.

go on go on

so we're officially back, no worries there, but i got rusty over time i take it. the will to write had been put off i guess with the delay in the process. we tend to believe that things chain us to themselves from within but something's happen through habitation. a process of producing and reproducing the concept, to use fancier words.

few days of summer and heat passed on, i have no clue what's up with the weather but now it's dark and dreary and even a tiny bit stormy. i don't mind it that much, turns out it's wonderful the cure weather, so i'm getting my slightly teenager, slightly angsty side out and chilling out with my cinnamon plum tea. i have so much to do this weekend and have no idea how to get it all done, but i've been sitting on my ass for 3 hours now listening to music and watching stuff and all and am not complaining one bit. looks like i lost the will (never found it actually) to study as well.

have this new unexpected job oppurtunity around the corner. it's not a sure thing, and i'm not quite clear if it'll work out with the school schedule. still have to form an argument around ezra pound--i'm thinking a political analysis of his nature might work. so i've been all over lately, skipping classes way to often and almost existing on a different reality than anyone else.

tiny unpleasant things do happen but i really don't feel up to talking about them for them. had a lovely st patrick's day though--with actual irish guests--and had a blast with a handful (or a few handfuls, let's say) people who joined me for the best night on earth--lovely diverse group--people i see (not every day) but often, people i hadn't had the chance to see, people i missed drinking and fooling around with, even people that i hadn't seen in years popped up on the way up to the square in the middle of the night--still suffering physically though, my bones are hurting a little. all was well though, wonderful actually, i had a blast all together. thank you again all those who chose to show up. i do hope we can keep up this tradition even after the whole school deal's over.

i think i wanna wrap this up a bit for now. let's not overdo ourselves, like drinking way too much water after hours of thirst--i don't want it all to explode in my stomach. you know me, this is my life. i'll come back to it. today, maybe, even. who knows.

until then you enjoy this as much as i did:



cheers. or the irish word for it, which i truly can't remember now.

march 12th

i had refused to write on here until the brainless ban was lifted--but on this very occasion--i will break my rule. today is the birthday of a very special being, one that i have spoken about frequently on here, so i'll skip everything else and say-- sadly, silently, but sincerely and lovingly--happy birthday jack.

my dear sweet jack.

i found you when i was 'wishing for a personal god in all this impersonal matter'--that lonesomeness and weariness--it's not a literary force i'm talking about, it's one that comes from a different source of life and alters one in the most unproper way--for 'proper' is limiting and rigid and cruel.

happy birthday. 'a new life' for you, after all.

...

trial run.

clear skies

skipped school and made a cake for pap's birthday instead. realized once more that i was not made for kitchen--though i do enjoy screwing around in the kitchen, i suck at the result products. it is freezing cold outside, my cinnamon-plum tea is ready, there's a responde paper that i should really get out of the way. my schedule's finally set. i guess it's time to unleash the kraken that is the final semester.

there's a slow-motion feel to this day. who knows why.