Monday, November 30, 2015

Burn

I want to burn your fingernails and stray hair
I want your eye lashes incinerated 
And your smile needs to dissolve into ashe 
Pearly eyes can only be appreciated in soot 
Your abdomen must burn so you can be skinny 
Churning out the conflagration that is your life 
I want to watch it burn 

You tell me that I just want to watch the world burn 
No, just you. So burn for me 

I want you to become her best friend 
And then she'll catch you with me 
She'll finally know what it means 
to be burned
A brand on your left arm 
That sizzles in sync with each tear you let out 
I want to watch it burn 

You tell me that I just want to watch the world burn. 
No, just you. So burn for me 

All this fire was too much 
so I took a backseat to the passion 
But then she bent over and I knew 
The fire that had lit burned me
No respite in sight, I ran after her
Hoping she'd get caught in my inferno 
I want to watch it burn 

You tell me that I just want to watch the world burn 
No, just you. So burn for me 

I don't want to be aware, so I decided to burn 
And with each gram I drifted away 
Waiting for the eventual procession 
No legacy to be left on this earth 
Instead she wanted to burn
I want to watch it burn 

You tell me that I just want to watch the world burn 
No, just you. So burn for me 

You will be California in the summer 
You will be the Bronx in the 1970s 
You will be a false idol outside San Francisco
You will be my fire 
I want to watch it burn 
So burn for me 



Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Antonia (skeleton)

                Antonia hated dating. The thought of putting herself out there frightened her terribly. She'd much rather stay with her painting of insects. Her ant farms and beetle boxes were good company. Still, social conventions she conveniently calls her friends forced her to make an okcupid account.

My Self Summary
            Hi there!(... no, no, no that's too emphatic. )
My Self Summary
             Hello there. (much better)
I love coffee and art. I draw mostly of insects. I guess you could call me a crazy bug lady (might as well air that out). I have my degree in bio-medical engineering. I'm currently teaching instead because I realized I hate doing office work and the thought of being out in the field sounded dreadful.

What I'm doing with my life
Art and teaching. I teach 6th grade science! So think paper machete volcanoes, but not because I do actual science with them.

Favorite Books, movies, shows etc.
(I guess I like Harry Potter) Harry Potter
(Wait I better throw something serious out there, you know a book that informed my life. But I'm not sure if there was any particular book that informed my life. God, this is so much pressure, this is exactly why I didn't want to do this.)  The Alchemist
(Ok now I need a funny tv show to prove I'm not a wet blanket, though I kind of am...)  How I met Your Mother

I Spend Alot of time thinking about
( Hmm, thats a difficult question. I mean I think about so many things. Often silly things. I think about insects all the time. Like the fact that when beekeepers are cleaning out their hives, they need to be careful not to accidentally section the queen bee from her worker bees, otherwise the hive won't make any honey and will eventually abandon the hive. But that's not what they mean with this question. They want something that really consumes my life. An indication that in my brain something more important than insects and how I met your mother references is churning. I guess I think about the future, especially my dating future. I mean we all like to put on a brave face and say we don't worry about being alone. And certainly it doesn't consume my thoughts, but those moments, when I'm alone, rewatching youtube videos, the thought crosses through my mind. I wonder if there is actually someone I'd enjoy rewatching youtube videos with. Hrm, what should I write for this section! I mean life an it's existential question of what are we and what's our purpose. I sometimes think of death. I sometimes think of nothing at all!)
My future, my life, my fate

On a typical Friday Night I am
(SKIP!)

You should message me if
You're a nice honest person!


Gerard was 5 foot 11 with a boxer's jaw. He often had a look of stupidity about him. This perception is heightened by his stocky figure. People often thought of him as the dumb jock, who was destined to live out his glory days in high school  and live a miserable life as he struggled to get into college. But here he was getting his masters in business, still judged as a the dull-witted muscle head.


(Middle portion of story that I don't want to write right now)


Hey, I think insects are pretty neat! ( who says neat anymore, let's rewrite this)
Hey, I think insects are pretty rad! (maybe she'd get the Fallout reference? No that's farfetch'd and stupid)
Hey, I think insects are cool.
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(strike out I suppose)
(checks if she's online a few times)
(rereads her profile for the 4th time)
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(yep, she definitely doesn't like me)

Antonia viewed your profile
(Ok the moment of truth!)


Hmm, Gerard getting his masters in business administration. He likes snow cones. He doesn't look like a jerk. Though he looks like he could be one. He's a bit hulky and I'm so tiny, I don't know if I could be with someone so huge! What if he has anger issues. Ok, that's not fair, I don't even know the guy. I might as well give him a chance.


Hey! That's awesome, what's your favorite insect?
(Fuck, I didn't think she'd ask me what my favorite one is. I can't throw out some generic bug without researching a particular kind. Let's think, hrm, how about ants. They work hard and they're very communal insects. How about red imported ants as my specific favorite insect)
Ants! I think they're so fascinating. I wish I had an ant hill.
Oh I have one at my house, yes they're great, they're my second favorite insect.
Really, which one is your favorite?
Beetles, especially, and this is going to sound nuts, the asian long-horned beetle.
Wow, that is a bit strange, they're given a bit of a bad rap.
I know but they're invasive nature is not their fault! This environment is just without any natural predator of theirs. Otherwise they'd be easy to handle.
Haha, sure. So what brings you to okcupid (fuck I shouldn't ask this, but I might as well)
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(she definitely was put off by that question)
(Hmm what brings you to okcupid, well I don't want to seem too available, but I do want to date)
"Antonia, come clean the dishes" her mother called out
(Darn, I better get on that)
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(I fucked up. I should have known not to be so forward.)

Date 1:
             The first date is always the most difficult to pick. Every person has a litany of motivations and outcomes in mind for their first date. It depends on how interested you are with the person you asked out. Do you just think she's kinda cute and hope to make out by the end of the night? Or do you want a long

(more stuff happens)

            What are you honestly looking for Antonia?
            Hrm? Me? I suppose I'm just looking for someone to hang out with, someone I enjoy spending time with.
            Same here! Except sex wouldn't hurt either (did you actually just say that, you fucking creep)
            Antonia releases a laugh that sounds forced to Gerard, but was completely normal to her.
           Not that I'm only looking for sex, ya know, I'm just. well I'm just going to stop speaking at this point.
           But you know what. I'm looking for more than just someone to hang out with, said Gerard.
           Oh? Then what are you looking for?
           In Virginia there's a landfill that looks gorgeous. It's called mount trashmore and it's a hill made out of trash as the name suggests. There's a park surrounding it and its idyllic, well as idyllic as a mountain of trash can be. Some days I'd sit on it as a kid and just look over the expanse and think wow, this is an amazing view. To think that I could get that sort of view from literally a heap of trash. I kind of think we all have a lot of trash in our lives, but we often try to run away from it. We want to throw it all out, but it's impossible. I want someone to take my trash and rearrange it into a hill.
         Haha, I like that. I've always admired ant hills. They serve as refuges against the outside world. They're constructed with extreme precision with intricate tunneling systems. If we were shrunk to the size of ants and were thrown into an ant hill, it'd be a labyrinth to us. But to them it's all familiar. I kind of want an ant hill in my life, an intricate refuge that keeps me safe, while also confusing those around me.
          Why do you want to confuse those around you?
           So they don't attempt to enter my sacred space.
            I understand that. I understand that a lot.

The kiss is the sort of thing that paralyzes everyone on a date. You typically know when to kiss, but you don't want to be the one to misread a situation. An awkward tension begins to fill the air. Antonia leans forward ever so slightly to indicate that she wants to be kissed. Unfortunately Gerard is too busy being nervous and tentative that he misses the obvious call for affection. Instead he leans his head forward to see if she moves in ever so slightly. Antonia is not the best with tact, so she rushes in for the kiss, catching Gerard completely off guard. They say a first kiss dictates the tone of your relationship with someone. Wet and messy is often a sign of a short lived passionless relationship. Hot and bothered is a short lived tryst of sex and angry text massages. There wasn't much to say about this kiss. It was warm and only lasted 4 seconds.

       
Date 2: (the argument date):
                     Seconds dates are much easier. You can be more low key because you've already established you're not a complete psycho. Of course it's still not acceptable to suggest "netflix and chill", but no need to go through elaborate lengths to woo someone over. Gerard suggested a Peruvian restaurant that's a bit of a hole in the wall. The food is excellent and Antonia never had Peruvian food before. Little did Gerard know Antonia is horrible with eating out. She's incredibly picky and specific, but didn't want to shoot Gerard down when he emphatically suggested this Peruvian restaurant. Antonia likes very particular foods. Shellfish, but no fish. Hot dogs, but no mustard. Sandwiches, no mayo, no tomatoes and a meat to cheese ratio of 1.5/2. But she spent at least an hour looking up the various dishes on Pollo Inka's menu and was comfortable choosing the arroz chaufa de pollo, which just seemed like fried rice and chicken. Maybe she could ask them to leave out the scallions. No, stop it, I don't want to seem uncultured.

(transition paragraph I don't want to write yet)

You sure you don't want to take that home with you.
Antonia was sure the first time Gerard asked, which led her to become a little ticked off with him asking a second time. The rice was too oily and the chicken seasoning had cilantro, otherwise known as a bar of soap thrown into her food.
Yep, I'm sure.
Ok, if that's what you want.

Hey I know a beautiful park by the water only a 5 minute walk from here, do you want to go?
Regardless of the debacle that was dinner, Antonia was still very much interested in spending more time with Gerard.
Of course.
The park rested right on the water, across stream from the airport. They walked for about an hour through the running track that surrounded a conventional children's park and a baseball field. Finally after 30 minutes of walking in a circle, they decided to sit down and watch the planes take off.

Have you traveled," asked Gerard.
Yes, I have, but only a little. I've been the UK and France.
Wow, I've never left the country. I've always wanted to though.
Why didn't you ever go.

Gerard always tries to hide his humble upbringing from his date. Even throughout college at Yale he could hardly afford any of the great study abroad programs made available to him. He was just a country boy from Virginia, trying his luck at Stern. Everyone he knows has grandiose dreams. He has one dream. He wants to buy his mother a house with a weeping willow in front of it. His mother loves weeping willows. And with his mother at the age of 62, he's running out of time to make her dream a reality.

I never had the time.
Oh, well maybe one day we can travel together.
What? We've only just met each other.
I mean you seem pretty cool and I'm talking about in the future.
I don't really look at the future for things like that. I like to live in the immediate moment.
Oh, I mean a little planning isn't too bad.
Sure, until the plans fall apart because you were too focused on the future. What if this date is followed by a horrible one. What if you find out something about me that you don't like. Then you just spent time thinking about a trip to Spain that isn't going to happen. Even if it was just fictional, we often place emotional attachments to fictional dreams.
Ok if that's the case why even put effort into this date? Why take me to this park, which you most certainly did not come up with on the spot. It was calculated.
You're right. I'm sorry my pessimism was bleeding through a little.
Yea, I don't understand why you'd press me on that.
Sorry Antonia, I don't like rushing into things.
I've been let down a lot in my life and when ever someone tries to get me excited, I typically resist.
That makes some sense, I'm sorry if I seemed to be going to fast.
No, you didn't I just overreacted.
Maybe we both messed up a little.
Perhaps we did.

If you could go somewhere, where would it be then, Antonia said in the hopes to change the subject

I want to go to Poland. I know that my family comes from Poland, though we know no one there. I want to regain something about myself that my family lost. I'm not sure if Warsaw is where I'd find it, but it's a good start.

Poland isn't a typical travel destination, but it's definitely an interesting place to visit, you should go.

And for once Gerard broke his own rule, thinking about himself in that brief moment. A trip to poland would cost thousands, money he won't have until years from now. Even after he gets his job on wall street, he needs to buy his mom a house. He needs to pay his debt to Yale. He needs to help his poor family members out. Poland isn't anywhere in his near future. But at least in this brief moment he can pretend that his own happiness can be fit into his life through this conversation with Antonia.
Maybe I will.

Date 3: (the demons date):

Date 4: ( the love date) :


(Skipping more parts because I'm tired of writing it) So imagine they've had 4 excellent dates.

Text (Gerard): Hey Antonia, I have to be honest with you. I have never been as happy as I was with you last night. I'm really happy I've had the chance to meet you and I hope we keep doing this 8/26/2015 4:41 am

Text (Antonia): I feel the same way. When I'm with you I feel as if I can just escape from the anxieties of my life. Social pressure and expectations melt away. It's like we said, you're my hill (weird bug reference brought up on the first date).  8/26/2015 10 am

Text (Antonia): So what are you up to today? 8/26/2015 10:02 am

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Text (Antonia): Hey not sure if you got my text! But I'd love to see you sometime 8/27/2015 11: 05 am
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Text Antonia: I'm sorry if I freaked you out with the last text. I don't want to rush things (insecurity planted by Gerard in second date). If that's what you're worried about don't worry. We can take things slow. 8/29/2015 11:00 am


"I'm sorry mam, the heart attack happened all of a sudden and while it's rare, for a 23 year old to have, a heart attack is unfortunately not the first assumption a primary care physician will have. He was admitted with chest pains at 9:30 am. He passed away 8/26/2015 at 10:05

Text (Antonia): Gerard, I don't know what this is. I really don't. But I thought we had a connection. I thought we were actually going to be refuges for each other. I felt so comfortable with you. I felt secure, so that I didn't have those thoughts in my head anymore. Please.. if you don't want to see me anymore that's fine, but at least tell me. 9/02.2015 3:00 am

"We'd better go on his social media and let everyone know the horrible news. I know his closest friends already know." said Gerard's mother with a cold tone.

Okcupid message: I'm messaging you on this in the hopes that you'll respond, this will be my last message to you. I was foolish to think that I could find something significant online. The anonymity, the ability to completely dissolve in the background of someone's life is too alluring when the prospect of commitment looms. I'm not sure if I hurt you or scared you. But you hurt me. You've hurt me because I was honestly excited to be with someone who made me happy (possible bad exes mention on the third date).

Gerard was a loving individual who only wanted to share that joy with the world. He loved snow cones/ As a kid he would go to mount trashmore, a landfill in Virginia and just look out at the countryside for hours. He'd always tell me, "mom one day I'm going to have my own hill to look out from." (obituary will reference all the things he reveals with Antonia throughout their 4 dates. 

Sunday, July 19, 2015

A singing exercise poem

Basically in my horrible voice I came up with a simple melody and started writing a story to it. This is the result!

I write with so many faces.
I write with so many paces.
I write with so many traces.
Of you

And people constantly tell me
How things are supposed to be
Too bad I just wanna be free
of you

So to this rhyme I do contain
Every instance inside my brain
I know, it seems quite insane
cause you

You're harmony, you're a disease
I want rid of you, I want to sneeze
But then secretly  the one I please
is you

Come on Raymond, burn the fire
We can wait the entire hour
I just want to take a shower
with you

a writing exercise if you please
I held this to a melody
And it came out quite lovely
in spite of you

So remember my trodden tail
of a guy who wanted to bail
just to realize he could prevail
if he needed to be rid of you

Shrewd Scowls

I think we all know better than to wait for the leaves to turn red.
Still, I don't doubt that autumn is going to come. 
And it'll be great, people will jeer at the trees shedding their green hue. 
The trees look at us harrowing as they lose their youth.
Why must I die? They ask. 
We just rake their concerns into piles and jump right into them. 
What fun is biodegradable material! 

I can't remember what winter feels like. 
Though I'm in a Starbucks, blasting the a/c to prove a point
fuck mother nature and Sam Champion 
And I still order the iced latte, though I hate coffee
Isn't that what people drink at these places? 
Next time I'll order a Cap'n Crunch from the "secret menu" 

The roads melt in front of my eyes, 
which are red from perspiration and building sweat. 
C'est La Vie, did I spell that right? Oh well it means life is beautiful anyways 
I could have just said it in Spanish, but unless there's an accent to denote a Barcelona inflection none of you would read as high class anyways
I forgot I was describing a mirage. The premise left me. 
Oh well. 




Thursday, July 9, 2015

Why thing happen for a reason

Yea, I have the fire now and I'm burning
The flame prevents me from speaking
so instead I took a paper and burnt it
afterwards I rearranged the ashes to make this
If you have lost me, find me in my writing.
If I lose myself, I look for myself in my writing.
And you worry over whether I am true because we hardly spoke
And you worry over whether I am to be trusted because we hardly touched.
And you worry over whether I am worth it because we hardly sang.
But our writing spoke for us.
But our fate touched each other.
But our reluctance sang volumes.
I do not forsake my feelings for temptation.
Instead I expunge them onto the page to remove myself from it.
Do not despair. Do not dwindle. Just grow.
I will always be attentive to a blossoming Star Gazer lily.
Your green bulbous eyes are purple to me.
Your warm smile is white specks to me.
I can only confirm your embrace by uprooting you from the ground.
I have chosen to refrain from doing that.
Please do not withdraw your fragrance from me.
Let me wallow in it a tad longer in order to gain clarity over how I feel. 

Friday, July 3, 2015

One touch

                       We all have our faces up to the glass, but we pretend we're content with simply looking. Much to our dismay the glass often distorts us, fogged by our warm breath when we talk. And so eventually we must transcend the momentary physical barrier. Eventually we must touch. There is no eloquence in introductions until after you've remembered them. The moment you decide to shatter that barrier you invite a warmth to your body. Both physically you feel the warm breath, but also one must take into account the pulse. It vibrates true and eventually the conversation dances along the ever going beat. And you are sync, just for a moment. Waiting to be disrupted by an outside occurrence. Or perhaps you need to yawn or hiccup. Regardless, for a few seconds understanding is possible because you are connected. For a few seconds writing is possible because you have felt it. And so I wrote it.  

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Speaking freely

                       I will speak freely just for a moment in the hopes that perhaps a small bit of what makes me amazing may be etched in electronic ink. You are a carnation I never want to pick. A stand out among a sea of flowers. And though others lean towards roses, tulips, even daisies; you stand firm. I wish I could lay in the grass and count your petals. But my eyes are not keen enough. I wish I could gently uproot you from the ground. But my fingers are too brawny and coarse. Maybe one day my eyes will change colors? Perhaps the callous will wash away and only leave smooth dainty hands. I wait knowing that even though I have not pressed you inside my own book, I've at least affirmed you in text. I apologize for my lack of technique. I've been in a rut for some while. But tonight you have temporarily freed me from the bastion of self deprecation I so shoddily stood in. 

Thursday, June 18, 2015

When people lean just a little over you, they're getting ready to tell you bad news.
It's always a misnomer. They pretend that they're hurt as well, but they're height speaks volumes about the power dynamic. And all you can do is hunch your head over your clenched fist and let your face rest. You stare, nodding begrudgingly and I watch singing to myself and secretly to you in the hopes that somehow these vibes find a way of magically comforting you. And so you agree because that's what good people do. They'll always come up with some reason for why it isn't your fault. We'll just call it creative differences and part ways. Everyone has a convenient time constraint. I have class. I need to go to bed early. I ordered dominoes pizza and don't want your ass in my room when I come back with my food. Petty. Still I heard you sing and I know you have such a beautiful voice. Sing a spiritual for me tonight. I won't be there of course, but just as you hopefully heard my voice then perhaps I'll be able to hear your anguish.

Time to take the little green man off the table. This isn't your moment. Tune out, thus tuning you back in to the constant rotation of the escalators. the hum of the vending machines. The red headed latina who has vibrant red lipstick on. And though I see you floundering, gasping for emotional air at each moment, thinking maybe I can explain my way out of this, I realize there's nothing I can do. And even the very act of writing this is just a selfish projection. I see the man lounging over the chair, leg dangling over the armrest. He is in bliss because he cannot hear.

The third act is always one of inner reflection. I'd like to believe I've unraveled something for you to see, but I realize that this was all for me. I chose this portrait and even as you walk away from the fictional excursion, I find myself still imagining an empty feeling over the entire event. I just think you're sad, maybe as I was sad. I just think you're defeated, just as I was defeated. I just think you are exhausted, just as I was panting. The final reflection is simple. I am sad. I am defeated. I am exhausted. At least I did all those things from the solace of hotel furniture. You on the other hand went through those things in my fictional retelling of your evening breakup.  

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Ahh! You can hear it can't you?
The pit patter of the greatness that has been enveloped by despair
Hail!
We whisper whimsically
Ahh that bravado!
It is deep and it echoes.
Vibrations they're crack the screen so that you might reach into the milieu of the internet
And when you finally touch the secret stuff
Scream Hail!
Your scream is deafening.
I can't hear it. But I feel it
Once more now, this time let go of your fears.
Once more now, this time let go of your dreams
Hail!
It is done. Not your song, but the crescendo.
We will go higher one day, but not today.
We will sing louder one day, but not till tomorrow.
Ahh that crescendo!
You can no longer sing me to sleep.
Siren, vixens, succubi and men
Be gone you have no power here.
Instead let the rolling thunder come.
It crashes and crackles.
It lights up the starry sky, which we cannot see.
But now we feel it!
Hail!
It's falling. Everywhere. But the pit patter doesn't bother me. 

Why bother?

Often I think most things have purpose.
Even the purposeless is supposed to be frilly fun. 
And though people tell you to just wait. 
I just think why bother? 
You know they don't want to talk. 
Yet you keep yammering away. 
Wasting air and making ears fall off. 
Why bother? 
Nah, that laugh was fake. 
Can't you tell it was 4 seconds long, the typical duration of a laugh 
is either a short staccato burst or a long voluminous roll
You're still going to remember his name. 
Why bother? 
When they just dwell on the negative.
No one is going to recognize mediocrity. 
But my kid can read a few sentences! 
Why bother?
Your dreams are merely fodder.
For others to scorn and jeer. 
And you know not to shed a tear. 
Instead you just say "why bother" 

Friday, April 10, 2015

Floatsam

Look at what I found!
Resting on the side of the river bank. 
You're smooth with soot embroidering your face. 
My Gaia in the palm of my hand. 
And so I follow your river down to your origin. 
It pours into a bioluminescent lake 
You look like the moonlight. 
I come right up to the divide between water and land. 
I throw you
You skip, once, twice, three times. 
Each skip produces ripples that spread
So I dip my feet into the water in anticipation 
of your embrace finally reaching me. 
It travels from my toes to my head. 
I can feel you calling out. 
Good travels my fair stone!
Now you can begin your final journey. 
Alas I am too old to dive. 
So I tread, imagining what it would be like. 
To be a leaf falling in still air 
When you reach your basin, please remember me. 
The air in my lungs won't expire yet. 
So I lay lifeless looking at the moon. 
I smile imagining you smiling back. 
The soot is cleaned off your surface
And so you receive a new face when you imprint the ground. 
I hope I receive a new face one day. 
But for now I let my skin wrinkle. 
Until my buoyancy subsides. 

Sunday, March 29, 2015

no title Creep by Brose

Honk! Tonk! Bonk! Stomp!
All over the carpet floor.
Micro-fibers are cushions.
Rubber soles are pavement.
Don't drag your feet.
Zap!
When I hear her, my hair stands straight.
She has a vanilla voice.
Hear no evil. But the Devil's eyes are in me.
Aaaaah! Waaaaaah! Fufufufufu!
That's my evil laugh. I'm part of the team.
Don't write me off so soon. I got pending
litigation. It rumbles and tumbles till it locks.
Caught like a fish out of a water in a net.
How redundant.
Postulate for a bit cause I got a bad back.
I need the rocking chair for this one.
Swing me baby. I'll kick once I get to the top.
Swooshing! Pushing! Wooshing!
I can fly...temporarily
Hello Gravity my old friend.
Stop it with the old bullshit Ray.
Fine, might as well tell those pointless stories of yours.
You'll end up dying alone and unhappy anyways.
Weep. Weep. Weep.
I cried.

Monday, March 23, 2015

Even Still

Even still, the tv is playing in black and white.
Sound works perfectly fine, but you need to
jack your headphones into the side to heart it.
Don't sit too close to the tv, you might lose your vision.
You're running on dial up, but still stream
movies in 3 second intervals
Do. You... know what it... means to
.
.
.
This still frame is nice. Plastered on the back of a college brochure.
We're smiling, so we're friends.
Printed in full color, we fall like leaves in autumn.
Especially when we have become
Golden and brown.
And just as autumn leaves do in the white winter,
we fragment.
Strewn across a mess of snow
in order to nurture the ground for a colorful spring.
But you never liked to be outside in the cold.
Sing Bing and be merry. The fire crackles
with a fluid motion.
Download complete.
Cue sound and let there be technicolor.
Don't interrupt during the movie and
please don't ask any questions.
Two hours later, in a matter of minutes,
A black backdrop is placed, the credits roll.
We get up hazy eyed from our bed.
Open a can of soda and our tv plays in the background
Even still. 

Sunday, January 11, 2015

I don't fucking know

I don't know why I'm teaching. I don't have a grandiose purpose. I simply chose to do so. 
I don't why I'm a Corp member. I don't have ulterior motives. I simply chose to do so. 
Yet you keep pestering me. 
Asking me so many questions. 
What do you want to do afterwards? When are you going to get started? How did teaching help you?
Speaking to me as if my life is
on hold. But it's not. 
I have begun living. When I was in college my life was on hold. When I was in high school. When I 
         sleep.
Working is the poor man's life. Working is the rich man's hobby. Working is a life in its own. 
Otium est Negotium, Negotium est Otium. No work, no play. 
I don't need to explain my success to you. I may be unsuccessful. I don't have an explanatory story of 
    self to keep me grounded. 
I have moments that led me to this classroom. I am through with developing my linear auto-biography.
My story is non-linear. It's multi-faceted in untrue. It's deceptive and confusing. I am Raymond Arroyo or Junior. 
I wish I could give you the answers you want. I wish I could make you proud. I cannot, I am sorry. 
I wish I could write pretty prose. Develop images in the text that begin to tread on the pages. 
           I cannot. I am sorry.