It’s been a while. I’m far away. I’ve changed some things. Stay posted.
Archive for the 'Nathan' Category
Where works have multiple authors cited, unless otherwise noted, they are written either as exquisite corpses or per-line. Each author writes one line, then passes the paper around the circle. The poem ends when it ends. There is no revision of the others’ lines.
My feet are not there
and my ankles are lonely,
cut off at the joints, the fine threads
dangling uselessly, flicking
The tops of trees, if there
were trees to flick
birds into the sky
(they do not fly themselves)
They are a lonely shape
in vain. They must be pushed
from the nest to fall on their faces.
But we all have the same face.
It is blue and it is cold. It is
the night face at the window.
And it is the same face inside
and looking out.
I wrote and posted this on a forum thread of uniformly awful original poetry, partly because I wanted to make fun of the people posting their terrible works, but mostly because I wanted to make fun of them. As you can tell, it’s a bloody masterpiece.
This are a poem,
A poem I has writ.
I done gone and wrote it,
And this here is it.
A poem gotta rhyme,
And need to have rhythm.
I run outta time.
A good word is ‘kitten’.
I coulda been worser;
You should be quite thank
-ful that I didn’t
Write verse that be blank.
It’s easy and simple
And not very hard
To keep hittin’ Enter
after
each
word.
But just cuz you space it
With random line breaks
Don’t make it mean nothin’.
That’s common mistakes.
I guess what I’s sayin’
In words fast and slow-etry
You can use forms poetic,
But it don’t make it poetry.
There are seven of us, and we are Very Fierce.
Match your wits to our teeth, if you dare.
-From Elegy v2 for RTS Zheng
I’ve spent years on this fellow, seven at least, and yet the demons still grab me and tell me, “You don’t know what you’re writing about. You can’t imagine life from any other eyes than yours.” And it’s true, it’s true. They say if you don’t understand others, it’s because you don’t understand yourself. This presents a problem. Operation: Find Self is currently underway.
Life within human civilization is an inevitable array of tragedy - the tragedy of human irrationality in the face of tremendous pressure to be civilized, to be logical. And it is the tragedy of rationality against the insurmountable irrationality of the mind. There is nothing less logical than the human brain, that collection of chemicals and electrical impulses. It can be made to seem logical, to follow certain rules, but in what are colloquially known as the heart and the head there are essential impossible differences. It is all very well to believe in humanity, in free love, in honor and virtue and right, and another thing entirely to practice such things. I have never met a person, nor do I wish to, who is entirely capable of living up to their ideals, be they staunchly religious and conservative, entirely anarchistic, or clear-headedly rational. Something always interferes.
I would no more wish to see a man or woman wholly contained, wholly controlled, fully rational, than I would to see one entirely animalistic, wholly instinctual, treading the ragged edge of sanity.
So life is a glorious muddle of irrationality, and we must try to cope however we can. I cannot much fault the religious nor those that adhere to any sort of dogma, any more than I can fault the drinker or the acid-tripper or the ascetic. It is a terrible thing to be human.
A recurring theme in a lot of my dreams is counterfeit money. I’ll come into a large sum of cash and will buy something, but when I attempt to pay, the money I pull out is always in nonexistent denominations (three-, 15-, or four-dollar bills), the wrong color (pink, blue, tie-dyed), the wrong size, or has the wrong portraits. Sometimes it doesn’t look like money at all, sometimes it’s clearly Monopoly money, and sometimes it has obscure political tracts printed on one side.
The obvious interpretation of this is that I am skeptical of gifts, don’t believe that I will ever be rich, or just wouldn’t know what to do with any sort of money. Or maybe, you know, my subconscious is trying to tell me something about the ephemeral nature of the Benjamins.
Been too busy to think about writing lately, other than the 60-some pages I’ve had to write for finals. I’ll be entertaining soon; in the meantime, Naomi, don’t stop posting whatever you want. I didn’t mean to censor yourself. This is your site too; if you have something to write, write it.
Our ‘pedia who art in wiki,
Hallowed be thy search.
Thy pov be neut,
Thy edits bear fruit,
In en. as they do in fr.
Give us this day our featured art,
And protect us from vandals,
At least in our favorite articles,
Though we vandalize others.
For thine is the reference and
The hype for ever and ever.
Amen.
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