Sunday, November 22, 2009
The West
What does the west represent to you? Freedom. Opportunity. Anti-conformity. Clean slate. But when we look really close at the ideal west for many immigrants, we see the west is none of this, because with freedom comes boundaries, laws, fights, and bondage. With opportunity comes failure. With anti-conformity comes conformity to new social norms created by the new westerners. Clean slate is accompanied by dirty pasts and hidden truths; new lives waiting to be dirtied. The west is just an ideal, but the west is no different than the east. The east is the west’s future, the west is the east’s past. When the east was first discovered, it too was the frontier. The west is now the last frontier only because we have not finished civilizing the area; we will not finish either because of federal laws protecting the lands. Therefore, the ideal west no longer exists, does it? It no longer is the true west because the true west is undiscovered and truly free. This west is bound and shackled by law to be free.
She Wanted to Escape
In writing this piece, I would suggest listening to Antony with Bryce Dessner's song "I Was Young When I Left Home" from Dark Was the Night, as I was inspired by this song.
She sat there, part of the circle, next to the boy she liked but would only ever be friends with, next to a stranger, across from a past friend sitting next to a new friend. She sat there, talking but not engaging. Her mind wandered to the past, the future, a parallel reality. She just wanted to escape. Just wanted to relax and let her mind wander from responsibility and pain; from suffering and grief. She took one hit and passed it, coughing, feeling the rush of the drug rush into her brain, a slight pleasurable dizziness surrounding her. She smiled and watched each of the other four take a hit, cough, smile, and continue conversation. She took another, bigger hit. Held it. She let her lips part and watched the smoke just drift out of her mouth, like a lazy cloud floating on a summer day. She blew some smoke rings, pretending she was a train. She started to laugh at the idea of being a train and she told the others and they laughed. They all laughed until some cried. She sat back and closed her eyes. One boy went to get his guitar and suddenly there was soft music strumming from the fingers of her past friend. The music seemed to fill her head and her whole body tingled. Soft hums followed the guitar and a song was sung. A mix of an old childhood tune and some new phrases of current love. She opened her eyes and saw this boy looking at his girlfriend, both in their own little reality, full of love and emotion. She looked at the unattainable boy and he was playing with his hands, twisting them in and out of each other. She suddenly hated this boy and loved him with all of her will. She was tapped on the shoulder by the stranger and she inhaled like she never had before. She coughed uncontrollably, her head lifting off of her body, soaring up, somewhere far away. She could look down and around her at the same time, at those around her, unaware and yet so awake and alert. She watched herself stand up, those looking at her smiled confusedly, and she swayed to the music from the guitar. She laughed as her body tickled and she closed her eyes, tilting her head back. She let her arms swing side to side, left to right. She put them out and slowly spun in a circle. She opened her eyes and looked at those other eyes and she asked them to join her. The unattainable boy, the stranger, and the girlfriend stood up, moving to the music. She let her head roll lazily around her neck, right, back, left, forward, right again. She looked around at those around her, all smiling and moving their souls to the music, their minds separate from their bodies. The boy playing the guitar played a little faster and they all laughed and danced a little faster. They stopped swaying and started bobbing their bodies, swinging their hips and moving their arms, doing crazy footfalls and leg bends. The guitar player laughed and played louder. She could hear the pick striking each string, each twang, each singing note. She and the others sat back down, laughing and giggling together about the same and a part about the different. She laid her head on his lap and he rested his hand upon her forehead, at the start of her dark, curly hair. He looked at her, she looked at him. Each smiled. She knew what each smile meant and he understood. He let his hand glide through her hair, each finger being caressed by each curl leaping up and entwining, then letting go and settling back into their bed. The music slowed and soon the singing stopped. The music died out and everyone slowly faded away. Her heart beat slowly and her pupils dilated then grew small. Her breathing slowed and the tingling moved to numbness. His hand was all she felt. His eyes were all she saw, his lips were all she knew. His lap was what she laid upon, spent her last moments upon, and drew her last few breaths upon. She felt her body start to fall, free-fall. She could see everyone around her, the boy’s hand suddenly stop and his other hand cup her chin and turn her face toward his. She watched the stranger get out his cell phone and begin to dial; the girlfriend start to get teary eyed and watch from a far; the guitar player stand up and fall upon his knees next to her and push the boy’s hands out of the way. She watched and she felt herself still falling, slow and fast all at once. She felt the wind as it rushed through her hair, kissing her skin, lifting the fingers, caressing her chest and shoulders, breathing upon her neck, whispering into her ears. She listened to the quiet sounds of the girlfriend’s sobs, the quiet whispers of the past friend and the stranger, and she listened to the broken whisper of the unattainable boy. She watched as tears fell upon her face. His tears. She looked around at her moment of escape. Her moment of forgetting. She tilted her head back and felt the sorrow of those around her, the grief and anger starting to form. She tried to grasp something, anything. She tried to hold on. She jumped and watched her body jump back into reality, into life. She watched the bodies around hers become rigid and stiff. Taken aback. She watched her eyes move towards his, her hand wrap around his neck, her chest rise in one big breath. She heard her breath leave. It sounded like a gust of screaming wind, so loud it echoed and she felt a lightness she had never felt before. She watched the tears escape the eyes of those who didn’t know her and felt the tears of one who might have loved her.
She sat there, part of the circle, next to the boy she liked but would only ever be friends with, next to a stranger, across from a past friend sitting next to a new friend. She sat there, talking but not engaging. Her mind wandered to the past, the future, a parallel reality. She just wanted to escape. Just wanted to relax and let her mind wander from responsibility and pain; from suffering and grief. She took one hit and passed it, coughing, feeling the rush of the drug rush into her brain, a slight pleasurable dizziness surrounding her. She smiled and watched each of the other four take a hit, cough, smile, and continue conversation. She took another, bigger hit. Held it. She let her lips part and watched the smoke just drift out of her mouth, like a lazy cloud floating on a summer day. She blew some smoke rings, pretending she was a train. She started to laugh at the idea of being a train and she told the others and they laughed. They all laughed until some cried. She sat back and closed her eyes. One boy went to get his guitar and suddenly there was soft music strumming from the fingers of her past friend. The music seemed to fill her head and her whole body tingled. Soft hums followed the guitar and a song was sung. A mix of an old childhood tune and some new phrases of current love. She opened her eyes and saw this boy looking at his girlfriend, both in their own little reality, full of love and emotion. She looked at the unattainable boy and he was playing with his hands, twisting them in and out of each other. She suddenly hated this boy and loved him with all of her will. She was tapped on the shoulder by the stranger and she inhaled like she never had before. She coughed uncontrollably, her head lifting off of her body, soaring up, somewhere far away. She could look down and around her at the same time, at those around her, unaware and yet so awake and alert. She watched herself stand up, those looking at her smiled confusedly, and she swayed to the music from the guitar. She laughed as her body tickled and she closed her eyes, tilting her head back. She let her arms swing side to side, left to right. She put them out and slowly spun in a circle. She opened her eyes and looked at those other eyes and she asked them to join her. The unattainable boy, the stranger, and the girlfriend stood up, moving to the music. She let her head roll lazily around her neck, right, back, left, forward, right again. She looked around at those around her, all smiling and moving their souls to the music, their minds separate from their bodies. The boy playing the guitar played a little faster and they all laughed and danced a little faster. They stopped swaying and started bobbing their bodies, swinging their hips and moving their arms, doing crazy footfalls and leg bends. The guitar player laughed and played louder. She could hear the pick striking each string, each twang, each singing note. She and the others sat back down, laughing and giggling together about the same and a part about the different. She laid her head on his lap and he rested his hand upon her forehead, at the start of her dark, curly hair. He looked at her, she looked at him. Each smiled. She knew what each smile meant and he understood. He let his hand glide through her hair, each finger being caressed by each curl leaping up and entwining, then letting go and settling back into their bed. The music slowed and soon the singing stopped. The music died out and everyone slowly faded away. Her heart beat slowly and her pupils dilated then grew small. Her breathing slowed and the tingling moved to numbness. His hand was all she felt. His eyes were all she saw, his lips were all she knew. His lap was what she laid upon, spent her last moments upon, and drew her last few breaths upon. She felt her body start to fall, free-fall. She could see everyone around her, the boy’s hand suddenly stop and his other hand cup her chin and turn her face toward his. She watched the stranger get out his cell phone and begin to dial; the girlfriend start to get teary eyed and watch from a far; the guitar player stand up and fall upon his knees next to her and push the boy’s hands out of the way. She watched and she felt herself still falling, slow and fast all at once. She felt the wind as it rushed through her hair, kissing her skin, lifting the fingers, caressing her chest and shoulders, breathing upon her neck, whispering into her ears. She listened to the quiet sounds of the girlfriend’s sobs, the quiet whispers of the past friend and the stranger, and she listened to the broken whisper of the unattainable boy. She watched as tears fell upon her face. His tears. She looked around at her moment of escape. Her moment of forgetting. She tilted her head back and felt the sorrow of those around her, the grief and anger starting to form. She tried to grasp something, anything. She tried to hold on. She jumped and watched her body jump back into reality, into life. She watched the bodies around hers become rigid and stiff. Taken aback. She watched her eyes move towards his, her hand wrap around his neck, her chest rise in one big breath. She heard her breath leave. It sounded like a gust of screaming wind, so loud it echoed and she felt a lightness she had never felt before. She watched the tears escape the eyes of those who didn’t know her and felt the tears of one who might have loved her.
Existence
This is a conversation I had once which was very intriguing...
There is no such thing as “existence” until we have made it exist. We are not here, until we have said we had a past and that we had a history. If “reality” is merely a word that mankind created, then what is “reality?” And if “reality” is what we make it, then what if we took “reality” out of our vocabulary? Would it still “exist?”
If reality is what we make it, and it only exists when say it exists; our past only exists when we create a past, then what are we doing? Who are we? Are we even here existing?
Reality is what you make it, but the thing is that it’s still reality, maybe very different from what you’ve been taught reality is, but reality none the less…whether or not we exist as we have always believed is irrelevant. What we are doing is surviving and gathering knowledge.
Survival of the fittest. But even with that knowledge we don’t necessarily know what we are doing or what it means, until someone or ourselves gives it a meaning or definition. Just the same as someone pointing something out and therefore it is, when before whatever “it” was, wasn’t.
It’s within our own surviving that we feel the need to have meaning and question which makes me think that there is something else, namely the singularity.
What do you mean singularity?
You should look it up but very basically it’s when humans merge with technology, essentially becoming a multi-minded organism, evolution through technology.
But doesn’t that worry you? If there is say, a “robot holocaust” our dependence and emergence with technology would have the capacity to destroy mankind. We would have lost our skill sets that generations before us have. Even the agriculture today depends upon technology…if that emergence happens, and then fails…
Yeh that’s possible but I just choose to believe the more positive possibilities. And either way I think merger with technology is inevitable, so it makes no sense worrying about the outcome.
Well yeh. I mean we already have dependence upon technology so much that we can’t go back. I just think we should be aware of it and try to minimize.
There is no such thing as “existence” until we have made it exist. We are not here, until we have said we had a past and that we had a history. If “reality” is merely a word that mankind created, then what is “reality?” And if “reality” is what we make it, then what if we took “reality” out of our vocabulary? Would it still “exist?”
If reality is what we make it, and it only exists when say it exists; our past only exists when we create a past, then what are we doing? Who are we? Are we even here existing?
Reality is what you make it, but the thing is that it’s still reality, maybe very different from what you’ve been taught reality is, but reality none the less…whether or not we exist as we have always believed is irrelevant. What we are doing is surviving and gathering knowledge.
Survival of the fittest. But even with that knowledge we don’t necessarily know what we are doing or what it means, until someone or ourselves gives it a meaning or definition. Just the same as someone pointing something out and therefore it is, when before whatever “it” was, wasn’t.
It’s within our own surviving that we feel the need to have meaning and question which makes me think that there is something else, namely the singularity.
What do you mean singularity?
You should look it up but very basically it’s when humans merge with technology, essentially becoming a multi-minded organism, evolution through technology.
But doesn’t that worry you? If there is say, a “robot holocaust” our dependence and emergence with technology would have the capacity to destroy mankind. We would have lost our skill sets that generations before us have. Even the agriculture today depends upon technology…if that emergence happens, and then fails…
Yeh that’s possible but I just choose to believe the more positive possibilities. And either way I think merger with technology is inevitable, so it makes no sense worrying about the outcome.
Well yeh. I mean we already have dependence upon technology so much that we can’t go back. I just think we should be aware of it and try to minimize.
Five Scents
Lay down
Breathe.
Take in my scent –
my shampoo, my perfume,
my makeup
Take in my scent –
my skin, my breath
Listen.
slow, steady, intake
slow, steady, inhale
quick, hard, exhale
quick, hard, exhaust
Feel.
my life, my rhythm
heart beat –
1-2, 1-2, 1-2
tick-tock, tick-tock
pitter-patter
muscle twitch
skin graze
Watch.
chest rise
fall
eyelash fall
rise
lips part
close
nervous swallow
Taste.
my lips –
hints of lipstick
my skin –
bitterness of perfume
Breathe.
Take in my scent –
my shampoo, my perfume,
my makeup
Take in my scent –
my skin, my breath
Listen.
slow, steady, intake
slow, steady, inhale
quick, hard, exhale
quick, hard, exhaust
Feel.
my life, my rhythm
heart beat –
1-2, 1-2, 1-2
tick-tock, tick-tock
pitter-patter
muscle twitch
skin graze
Watch.
chest rise
fall
eyelash fall
rise
lips part
close
nervous swallow
Taste.
my lips –
hints of lipstick
my skin –
bitterness of perfume
don’t name it
it won’t exist
exist within context
context is created
created realities
realities are false
false understanding
understanding the living
living fake lives
lives that are upside down
down to most is up to some
some is just a few
few only stand from many
many speak
speak and listen
listen to who
who am i
it won’t exist
exist within context
context is created
created realities
realities are false
false understanding
understanding the living
living fake lives
lives that are upside down
down to most is up to some
some is just a few
few only stand from many
many speak
speak and listen
listen to who
who am i
Travis
This is about a boy in most of my classes that I always meet eyes with in an awkward since...
It seems that every time I look
across the room you’re there
staring
at me.
And I don’t know what to think
Do I have something on my face?
Is my hair out of place?
I’m not sure what to think.
Or do
how to act.
It’s oddly flattering
So…thank you?
I think?
It seems that every time I look
across the room you’re there
staring
at me.
And I don’t know what to think
Do I have something on my face?
Is my hair out of place?
I’m not sure what to think.
Or do
how to act.
It’s oddly flattering
So…thank you?
I think?
Hidden
Hidden between peek-a-boo fingers
underneath crinkled eyelids smiling
inside entwined hands intimately embracing
within the whisper of the covers
rubbing against tangled legs
sneaking in between lips brushing
leaping off tongues speaking
dancing freely upon cheeks blushing
diving off eyelashes fluttering
swimming towards quickened side glances
pausing during cautious lip bite thinking
sung out with rustle of morning hair tucking
dawned upon and moon lit
tinkered with and pondered
rationalized and tossed aside
dug up treasure from the dirt
circle back to peek-a-boo fingers
start over with body tingles
underneath crinkled eyelids smiling
inside entwined hands intimately embracing
within the whisper of the covers
rubbing against tangled legs
sneaking in between lips brushing
leaping off tongues speaking
dancing freely upon cheeks blushing
diving off eyelashes fluttering
swimming towards quickened side glances
pausing during cautious lip bite thinking
sung out with rustle of morning hair tucking
dawned upon and moon lit
tinkered with and pondered
rationalized and tossed aside
dug up treasure from the dirt
circle back to peek-a-boo fingers
start over with body tingles
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