Pre------->Post

Well here we go again.

I find it quite interesting whenever I come back and post something on this barely breathing, barely touched blog that it appears that any time I ever post something here is when I shouldn't be posting. I mean, I guess I use this as a last resort, last possible distraction to prolong the procrastination that is my college career.

Oh well, at least someone (most emphasis is on the one) has something to read.

Anywhos......


I find it interesting that unlike my fellow peers, I find myself aged beyond my years.

In my current state I find it peculiar that my bedtimes are always earlier on the weekends than they are on the weekdays (ahem school nights), That probably shows what the proportions of my life right now have amounted to.

I apologize for being so secluded. I don't mean to be but yet I do try.

Buckley You Sly Sly Dog

Inspirations Lacking

In search of foundation.

We'll see.

Aids In Finance. Work-Study

Ummm......so yeah bureaucracy sucks.

I've been working so so hard to get this job in order so I don't have to worry about the all the paperwork anymore. I mean, it's weird to say that all I want to do is work.

Is that so hard to do?

Research should be the hardest thing about this job but why does it seem like easiest.

KSADS SIPS BASC WISC SCQ MRIRUN ERPRUN STROOP

I've never been so excited for a cubicle before in my life.

Hopefully, just hopefully, this all works out.

Perhaps I see research in the Future? Whatever happened to clinical?

Friday Night Laundry. 2 Loads and One for Morning

Such Young Nice Boys Such Nice Young Boys

Such young nice boys become the fury

To whom, however, predisposed, these are

Those young nice boys, grow in surpass of their brothers

Though sisters, we sisters, are kept to quite the dainty hands

Of the unbridled strength of the Being, Naïve

Not to be heard but not them to be unknown

There is mission to be clever

Smart is, as only as it does at some point

Towards that sly, that mischief, of words hidden in birth

Are we what separates the tongues of the falsetto remembrance?

A break in pitch, in frequency, to whom laughter results

Is all that remains of the degradation of freckles with wrinkles too

Come soft wrinkles, come hard lines that fissure

We have cut the cables of this imagination

That phantasmal panorama of the bygones of yester

Apparition and opposition seem to engulf that lover

Of wants and begs to womb

I am no mother to these young nice boys

I am no father to these nice young men

Forever I’ll be

Forever To you

Even though I am to you,

That young nice boy who craves the transition of that young nice man

It Was Once Today . Saw There The Past

Here's a line out of John Hollander's poem By Heart that has seemed to stick out to me just now.

"We play by ear, but learn the words by heart;"

Just let it sit for awhile. I know I'm sitting.

Time To Myself. Myself Abandoned.

I stare and I observe. It is just I do not know what I am viewing.

Detached am I.
Detached is I.

I need some fulfillment. It's been awhile since I've been myself. I do everything I can to just fill this gap that I'm missing. Sometimes too much and mostly too little. In all fairness, there's no reason to complain or anything. From an observer's point of view, and myself even, I have it pretty good right now on paper. I'm not faced by any adversity.

I just don't know what it is.

Unstable is I. I need stability in all aspects.

Mind.
Body.
Heart.

Fresh in the mind of Men

Which of that is Not Supposed to Be Around Saint.

How quick were you?

Slow to realize but be forever negligible

Just one glimpse, an intention of

A haunting thought if you were one to know

He was there situated on the right though his hands grasp left amongst all

Paced and conditioned by sinister perspective

That which was dexter

It was from the bearer’s point of view

I thought I saw you on the tracks

Trying to catch your second wind

But never mind, the case was not one to be expected

I should know now by that statement but I still hope for reason

Key in on the still

Whether it be on the moment of or the status that remains of I

I have grown to be of this still

Integrating the area

Summing up the infinite wonder

Excitement only begins with a reasonable goal

I guess that was too much to ask for

That was just too much

Way too much

I cannot believe

Though out of the unconventional sense

Imprinting was key

Such critical experiences have stuck without reinforcement

I lie but lets just let those definitions be for the sake of the current tell

I have learned these lessons in the same room but logic has only come out of essence now

Irreversible is I and caught is I to two standpoints

Time being; sit to be awoken for tomorrow’s morning is never too early

Stand in the corner with heads turned out to the summation of that vector

Look upon whatever is was there

Be the teller of the now then happenings

Portrayal of the remiss is marked upon my condition

Whosoever asks is deemed into the arbitrary

Values of proof

Of one who still is figuring.

Voices of the Dainty Sort

When You Give Your Heart

I recently discovered Laura Veirs. She is good. Very soothing and almost like Fleet Foxes.

Also, She & Him



I Thought I saw Your Face Today

Big Blocks and Pushed Together Thoughts

Banter Memes: I Like That.

My eyes see in only one way. For myself, I am away without bother. I cannot relate to those who seem all so familiar but that is what it takes, I know. Unsure of the possibilities, I wait to be patient to forgo the time spent. The minutes’ three, the weeks are atrophied. To the climax, I say, long is it really? Which are? Such clinal steps are beginning to run twice in length and then on to three. Happenings occur for periods undetermined such is a rolling highlight I feel is quite the predicament I’m in. I abstain from my worry and delight because both seem to balance my thoughts. This potential, I feel, lifts me up from shoulders and all, though I feel tethered. Don’t get me wrong; I am positive which is weird because poles point north. Content with all that is around, opportunity fills me. I turn around but I sense bitterness on my tongue. No fault to anyone really, just a grudge with myself. Playful tough love, what a joker this guy is. Oh my, there is an abundance and there are so many I find. Which to select? Nope, not that. Smile at the situation and be blessed that I am apparently aware. I may be undeserving but my reasons are selfish. Like my father, I am stubborn and confused but I manage to overdue my generosity. However so appealing, I expect not of this passage. I say to everyone welcome. I have not addressed the perspective yet, the outliers’, of course. I don’t care about them but I continue to say welcome. I am of three sides though this room has four corners. This image shows no scene or placement so stop the thought right there. I’ll worry about myself first before I get onto the others. There is care there but I’d be a fool to let it get in my way. Sharing the fun is never a bore to me. It’s the desire to be shared with is what I found the least fun. Isolated by thought, dreams circle round and round. Away they go until they became of the utmost clarity. Then I wake up. What was it again? Fuck. Anyways, I move on but where to? Attached by this groove, I oscillate my mood to beat. Internal clocks, I believed, are moved by internal reflection. Total internal that is. Those that I know will only take interest in investment of time. And I expect myself the same onto them but earlier lines should not get in the way. I apologize to ramble but only the few will get through as with my life. I’m in line to get by. To just get by is all that I ask but my standards are higher then to just settle. I want to settle but feel at ease. Perhaps it will be here or wherever. So for now, the familiar, I trust, will be believed as familiar and my distance from the familiar is just an odd obscurity. I’m getting there. For the edge is in sight. A sight to rest for now but the rest will be just a break. Conveyance should become destination. The might is more powerful than the perhaps. I say I might do this or I might do that but when has anyone ever believed me? I’m not sure of this statement but only the good can get better, only the sad become sadder. I am that extra push to the relative more. I have become the before and after. Which only leads to the mean. That is, what most call the now. To a certain extent, I have said this too many times. Does change in me constitute a change in behavior and grace? I do not suppose so. Priorities are hard to find especially when I find them most obvious. What I need to do is refuse a select few of my hopes. I have too many in mind but the amount seems fair. To further my expanse, I must. Reluctant am I to not. A careful distinguisher you are for making it this far.

I Applaud and I Jeer.

Just let go of thoughts and wants. Obviously, free will is a gift but the outcome may not be what you asked Mom and Dad for.

********************************************

Okay, this quarter I'm taking a poetry class. It's different. I like it. It creates anxiety. But good Anxiety.

Open Wide Here Comes a Fist Punch to the Temple

I think I'm developing a new method. (poetry that is)

What I'm going to do is just whenever I'm on my computer, each week I will leave an open word document. By the end of each week there should be something.

Good Idea? Perhaps.

(you): heh?

Wants and Refusals

Let's return to this shall we.

A wayfarer by Christmas. A hermit by New Year.