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    dotsJournal: (Return)dots
    Mood: somber

    i built a shell of leaves
    and slept in its heart,
    as faint scissored light
    scraped at the dark.

    ...Created 2008-03-21 03:30:32

    dotsJournal: Ha.dots

    I like wiping out my posts so I can get back at everyone else for making my favorites list obsolete.

    ...Created 2006-05-21 18:26:47

    dotsJournal: RHCPdots
    Mood: The Usual

    I can't rest in war
    Will you be my friend
    Dark Ages never change
    I can't comprehend

    Kiss me we self destruct
    Can you hear me Lord
    Yes I think we're fucked
    But I can't rest in war

    The righteous and the wicked
    War and peace
    The killing fist
    Of the human beast
    Prodigies Of Peace
    Hear me when I'm calling you
    From my knees
    I am playing for a better day

    Holy mother earth
    Crying into space
    Tears on her pretty face
    For she has been raped

    Killing your future blood
    Fill her with disease
    Global abortion please
    That is what she needs


    Are we fire flies
    Flashing in the night
    Big thunder rumble fish
    Did you get it right

    Headstrong battle song
    Exploding souls be gone
    Marvin Gaye my love
    Where did we go wrong


    ...Created 2006-05-11 00:23:12

    dotsJournal: cha-i-neddots
    Mood: Depressed

    Been spending the last couple of hours or so frantically crying and devouring chocolate ice cream. It's not as good as the chocolate ice cream I had last time, but it's alright. I can't believe how tired I am all the time. It comes from not eating, but I keep thinking of anemia, consumption, cancer... it doesn't help that I had another of my wonderful early death premonitions today. It's stupid of me to feel like I'm going to die young because I can't imagine me in the future more than 2 years from now, but there you go. (It's not that I can't imagine it, it's more like my imagination doesn't quite fire off correctly. Or something.)

    My parents told me I lost weight this morning. I'm guessing it's because I haven't been eating. Honestly, I can't remember the last real meal I had. It's like I'm anorexic out of pickiness. I can't stand the food my mother makes, and I don't want fast food either, so I just end up not eating. And the less I eat, the less I feel I need to eat. ...Weird, though, my face feels much fatter than usual. (I think I should probably make an effort to eat. APs are coming up and I can't study without energy... I've also been sleeping a lot more, and getting sick easily.) (Mmm, chocolate ice cream.)

    On a happier note, I have been playing "Hey" by the Pixies on repeat for half an hour now. I must learn it on guitar. Man, the Pixies are so crazy. Everything about them is so simplistic, but it gets so crazy deep. I was looking up lyrics the other day on, and the lyrics of "Here Comes Your Man" ( weirdly correspond to the bombing of Nagasaki. Er, yes. This was the happier note. But anyways.

    The song "Hey" is amazing. I'm annoyed that the opening guitar riff is much more complicated than I thought it would be, and I can't coordinate it correctly, but that's probably just my own ineptitude.

    been trying to meet you--
    hey. must be a devil between us
    or whores in my head, whores at door, whore in bed
    but hey.
    have you

    if you go, i will surely die.

    we're chained.

    said the man to the lady.
    said the lady to the man she adored
    and the whores, like a choir--
    uh-uh-- all night
    and mary, ain't you tired of
    this--- uh----
    that the mother makes when her baby breaks

    we're chained

    ...Created 2006-04-14 21:45:55

    dotsJournal: Spy Gamesdots
    Mood: The Usual

    I won’t say I’m an artist.
    Twenty years since I left the army,
    and I’m still a brute.
    A quiet, trilingual, slippery brute
    nondescript in faded gray.

    Don’t believe this tripe
    about butchers’ hands and
    poets’ souls;

    those epics sung, of gents with guns
    in leather shoes and silken suits—
    chess games played under Tuscan suns—

    or these doe-eyed myths of humane regret.

    Blood and ashes are never cleansed with tears
    (but bribery does the trick—
    or else, ammonia, in a pinch.)

    I’ve trodden Russians underfoot,
    buried them in congealing snow

    —never looked back.

    It’s just a job by numbers, and I’m a clown,
    with a name of numbers,
    juggling with pulse and breath.

    ...Created 2006-04-11 23:53:06

    dotsJournal: lookshorttitledots
    Mood: Tired

    I took out a loan so I could stay with you;
    to make sure the merger will go through.
    You know I can't hold on for much long--
    Not without you. You know that's true.

    They say the bargain goes
    to those with lesser need.
    Makes sense, although
    I wish it wasn't true.
    Because that would be you
    and I know what you'd do,
    if you knew, too-- that you're the one
    who calls the tune.

    And maybe you do know.

    I'm still waiting for that spark to dawn,
    for our contract to be withdrawn:
    a conclusion foregone, for the time
    when you refuse to be a pawn
    in a game that still goes on

    Despite the fact you've already won.

    Cost and benefits; profit and exchange:
    a parabola's arching domain and range--
    (the interest rate stirs the winds of change)
    along the differential side of a bold cosine,
    marked up and down with blue pencil lines.

    You, checking the stocks
    While I do crosswords with a pen.

    and coffee congeals in
    wayward pools...

    bankrupt for love


    ...Created 2006-04-05 01:54:22

    dotsJournal: Alone in Kyotodots
    Mood: Relaxing

    blossoms and rain.
    the storms tease us
    this spring--

    tease me, that is--

    listening to the
    water patter against
    the roof you repaired
    last autumn,

    frogs spawn
    and prepare for

    I sing their song, too.

    partnerless, my voice
    rises thin and weak

    against the quickening weather.

    ...Created 2006-04-04 17:26:26

    dotsJournal: update:dots
    Mood: The Usual

    Well, I guess it's been something like months since I've last visited... a rush of stuff has basically had me pinned down.

    Firstly, I was accepted to UC Berkeley, so that's where I'll be going in the fall.

    Secondly, prom SUCKS. I am not going, but that is somewhat of a story, and perhaps I'll journal about it later. Don't worry, no one gets spurned except the guys that asked me. Ego boost. Upsurge. Can you bitch like I do?

    Thirdly, I woke up this morning and I stared the complete works of T.S. Eliot in the spine. And it made me wonder... why did I ever forgive him for the Practical Book of Cats? What a douchey thing to do the world.

    ...Created 2006-04-03 22:33:49

    dotsJournal: MY critique?dots
    Mood: Rant

    Somewhat of a response to:

    I like driving down to Eaton Canyon,
    and permanently dusting myself and my
    blue jeans, wetting my socks through
    permeable sneakers, in the springtime

    when the creek flows faster.

    But most of the time, I cage myself in my room,
    Click, refresh; curse my internet--
    then reconnect. I don't know why
    I always stay online.

    Maybe it's some secret promise that
    still evades me, when I fumble against
    cheap paper, or the X P OS--
    always taking metrical considerations
    to always break a rule or two.

    Synonym and antonym,
    metonymy and conceit.
    Most importantly the littlest tricks of the trade:
    contractions and prepositions:
    colons; semicolons.

    I don't know.

    I always say I do what I do
    because it's what I do
    but that's not the right answer,
    and I know you know that, too.

    If I told you I swung my legs against
    the canyon cliff, and if
    I told you that the desert brush
    begged me meet it at the bottom,

    and if I could say all these things
    (strangled in metaphor & simile),
    and you truly understood...

    would it be worth it, to hammer my love
    and pain and grace and vice
    into these mice-like words, these scurrying
    worthless things, that evade every
    premise and clause?


    Sharpen your harpies' claws,
    and tell me how to better my lies.

    If I wanted to tell you the truth
    I'd tell it you in a solid, English sentence
    Je ne sais quoi. Deus ex Machina
    shorn of device.

    ...Created 2006-04-03 20:39:25

    dotsJournal: men, they risedots
    Mood: Tired

    men, they rise
    in seas and deserts—
    armies of dust
    and rain.

    though they swell
    like ocean tides

    they blur and fade
    under unrelenting rain.

    futile like
    empires and butterflies.

    ...Created 2006-02-13 02:39:54

    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.




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