ok, so i admit i'm not qualified...no background in law, political theory or otherwise but damn this must be the most frustrating time of my life...well, save sophomore year of college but eh, that is the past, and after this post, so be this disappointment.
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
the joke is on me.
The ideal candidate will be a recent graduate with a B.A. or B.S. in the social sciences (excluding psychology), political science, or related fields. A background in law, political theory, international relations, or American history is preferred. Minimum GPA of 3.3 is required. Must have strong, demonstrated writing skills. Previous experience in conducting research for a professor and writing/editing experience are desirable. Must be able to work independently on multiple projects. Candidates with an M.A. are encouraged to apply as well.
i think i shall apply anyway,
and today happens to be the last day for applications.
writing/research/editing position for a community outreach program.
why excluding psychology?
i think i shall apply anyway,
and today happens to be the last day for applications.
writing/research/editing position for a community outreach program.
why excluding psychology?
Saturday, December 25, 2004
burn the christmas tree
there will be no mistletoe
sponsored by mastercard,
no diamond forever or
secret santa stuffing stockings
by fireplace burning the cold
of outside to ash while drinking coca-cola
with polar bears.
--
the doors of the mall are closed,
last day of liquidation of the entire
market was yesterday, while the
world was sleeping on serta sofas
watching a plasma tv hanging from a chandelier,
ears plugged, dreaming to ipod staccato--
the latest punk riff rip-off from the late great jimi.
--
there will be no hi-definition instant replay
concussion, no bud light game-time decision,
thrown chairs and sucker punches have left
the building along with the fat lady,
the bars are closed, no ten-cent wings,
no table-top dancing drunk off cosmopolitans,
high on ego.
--
burn the christmas tree.
leave the angel.
ask forgiveness.
listen to family.
remember the year.
pray for progress.
search for reason, never take handouts.
there's more behind the blinking lights.
be merry.
sponsored by mastercard,
no diamond forever or
secret santa stuffing stockings
by fireplace burning the cold
of outside to ash while drinking coca-cola
with polar bears.
--
the doors of the mall are closed,
last day of liquidation of the entire
market was yesterday, while the
world was sleeping on serta sofas
watching a plasma tv hanging from a chandelier,
ears plugged, dreaming to ipod staccato--
the latest punk riff rip-off from the late great jimi.
--
there will be no hi-definition instant replay
concussion, no bud light game-time decision,
thrown chairs and sucker punches have left
the building along with the fat lady,
the bars are closed, no ten-cent wings,
no table-top dancing drunk off cosmopolitans,
high on ego.
--
burn the christmas tree.
leave the angel.
ask forgiveness.
listen to family.
remember the year.
pray for progress.
search for reason, never take handouts.
there's more behind the blinking lights.
be merry.
Monday, December 20, 2004
the golden room...
is filled with family. we've been here before, thanking the Creator for not only the happy moments but for the painful ones that reminded us of how important family truly is. there were opinions, tears, and gifts, and laughter, and hugs and kisses exchanged through testimony, dialogue, argument. the golden room is where the heart is never large enough, where the mere presence of family can lift one's spirit, can restore hope, in even the most dismal times. i am thankful for my family on this day, on the presence of my brother Brandon, who i went up to philly to get from haverford on friday. i'm thankful for the support of my parents in my transitional period (from boy to man...no, i'm not there yet). I love my little brother Richard and must work toward helping to instill a love for knowledge in him--to embrace challenges. the golden room is open-air, all are welcome to walk through the doors, there is a lot of love to be given, to be shared.
--
drama has a way of creating itself right before your eyes. i need to walk away from it.
--
--
drama has a way of creating itself right before your eyes. i need to walk away from it.
--
Thursday, December 16, 2004
waking up before the sun...
seems almost unreal, not quite all there the world is new totally, the day wide-open to possibility.
and then, as the light rises priority replaces pondering, possibility is replaced by responsibility. the day owns you and to know it, well knowing it is what makes it difficult to leave the bed.
that's what i felt today.
it's what i feel anytime i beat the sun to my computer.
it's all the excitement a post-grad drifter can
hope for.
and then, as the light rises priority replaces pondering, possibility is replaced by responsibility. the day owns you and to know it, well knowing it is what makes it difficult to leave the bed.
that's what i felt today.
it's what i feel anytime i beat the sun to my computer.
it's all the excitement a post-grad drifter can
hope for.
Wednesday, December 15, 2004
a day in the life
...of someone else would be nice. i wonder if they would do drugs. what if they died the one day i occupied there body. would i die too? so yeah i'm pondering words as usual, thinking about the significance of taking this job opportunity before me (Nielsen Media Research). I feel the need to cry a lot lately. I feel emotional investment in every passer-by. Is this the soul of an artist. I need to purge, so purge, i will.
I spoke to my first love about a week ago. She told me she was mad at me. See, she's getting married next year, but not to me. Apparently, the "idea" of us is still fresh in her mind and for this reason I doubt I will be able to go to the wedding, although I want to. I mean she was the one for a long time. Granted we were young, but the feelings were real. I still care about her deeply, even though I hadn't spoken to her in more than a year. Her call was unexpected but needed. She is ok and that makes me feel good.
I've felt for a long time now that 24 hours is just not enough time. nope. not enough at all.
maybe the person's body i would inhabit would have a job. i could make money and smuggle it back to my hands in my own body, then i would have money. yeah, that could work. i think.?
I spoke to my first love about a week ago. She told me she was mad at me. See, she's getting married next year, but not to me. Apparently, the "idea" of us is still fresh in her mind and for this reason I doubt I will be able to go to the wedding, although I want to. I mean she was the one for a long time. Granted we were young, but the feelings were real. I still care about her deeply, even though I hadn't spoken to her in more than a year. Her call was unexpected but needed. She is ok and that makes me feel good.
I've felt for a long time now that 24 hours is just not enough time. nope. not enough at all.
maybe the person's body i would inhabit would have a job. i could make money and smuggle it back to my hands in my own body, then i would have money. yeah, that could work. i think.?
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
two poems
Cyclic Karma
Audience:
The y-shaped entry
To paradise allows
For a man’s ego
To be attached to panty
lines,
For desire to grow
Out of another man’s misfortune
(i.e. she leaves him for me)
(i am a shepherd of karmic retribution)
Victim:
You are
Nothing more than
A reminder of my shadow,
How I come and go
With the sun—
Not even laying my head
Down to rest upon your
Open heart.
This is why I am here—
To leave you.
--
After Everclear
The party was a blue-cup shenanigan
and my dance was one of spectacle,
of leaning back and waving my arms
from side to side, where laughter was
not my friend.
intoxication allows for one to fall
In love with the moment a woman
Speaks (no matter who ‘she’ is),
with cold fingers
Caressing the inner-arm of expectation—
That the night never ends,
the high never come crashing down
On your head, a hangover
of sorts, where you are asleep
and awake, all at once.
He told me not to fuck with it,
I told me not to fuck with it
And now it fucks with me
Aided by rum, weed and nas’s
Illmatic—dictating whether
I remember anything or everything
And all in-between.
Pissing in front of a mirror,
I know not myself other than
My shaft, erect, flaccid, erect again.
She won’t remember me;
I take the number anyway.
We come to the car to find
A Cracked windshield and I can’t
Stand up, no room between
Me and the floor for anger—
I am not responsible,
The devil made me do it.
Audience:
The y-shaped entry
To paradise allows
For a man’s ego
To be attached to panty
lines,
For desire to grow
Out of another man’s misfortune
(i.e. she leaves him for me)
(i am a shepherd of karmic retribution)
Victim:
You are
Nothing more than
A reminder of my shadow,
How I come and go
With the sun—
Not even laying my head
Down to rest upon your
Open heart.
This is why I am here—
To leave you.
--
After Everclear
The party was a blue-cup shenanigan
and my dance was one of spectacle,
of leaning back and waving my arms
from side to side, where laughter was
not my friend.
intoxication allows for one to fall
In love with the moment a woman
Speaks (no matter who ‘she’ is),
with cold fingers
Caressing the inner-arm of expectation—
That the night never ends,
the high never come crashing down
On your head, a hangover
of sorts, where you are asleep
and awake, all at once.
He told me not to fuck with it,
I told me not to fuck with it
And now it fucks with me
Aided by rum, weed and nas’s
Illmatic—dictating whether
I remember anything or everything
And all in-between.
Pissing in front of a mirror,
I know not myself other than
My shaft, erect, flaccid, erect again.
She won’t remember me;
I take the number anyway.
We come to the car to find
A Cracked windshield and I can’t
Stand up, no room between
Me and the floor for anger—
I am not responsible,
The devil made me do it.
conversation, perspective
Jai and I discussed making a more concerted effort to control our perspective on how we view our lives, actively defining one’s outlook is one of the basic steps to not only changing our general disposition toward occurrences, but also shaping that which is real around us. Honestly, this was one of the most fulfilling conversations I’ve had in a while, sparked by Jai’s interest in the scientific basis of existence, sort of an amalgamation of science, religion and theology. I share Jai’s pessimistic view of the state of things, concerning my life as it stands today. There are many endeavors I want to pursue, many goals I’ve set before myself, however, I find it difficult to move forward. The employment process has turned out to be a very frustrating one, and in hindsight, a journey I should have begun months before I graduated from school. In postponing my graduate school aspirations, it becomes even more critical that I maintain focus on where I want to go (where do I want to go?). My dad always says, “Idle minds are the devil’s workshop” and after a long hiatus from pursuing anything worthwhile, I find it increasingly imperative that I remain active, taking advantage of all the connections I garner through letting people know that I am serious about everything, be it poetry, employment, mentorship, etc.
In other news:
I have three poems in mind and I am brainclouding now:
Paid for silence: my perspective of a 14 year old girl being gunned down after requesting to be paid to keep quiet about a murder she witnessed.
The funeral: my feelings about the death of 19 year old Deloren Young, who was killed during Thanksgiving break, apparently over a “beef” a friend of his, had with some men.
Distraction: part fiction attempt to gain a better understanding of my own exploits in the realm of relationships.
…more than enough on my plate. Apparently, the bucknell seminar for younger poets application is due at the end of the month…my cave canem manuscript should be done by mid-january.
What I’m reading:
Hip: A history by John Leland
A thorough historical view of hip’s contents, from minstrel show of the early and mid- 1800s to the beat generation to the lost generation, to gansta rap. Interesting so far, especially the parallels of what is hip and it’s contradictory personality, being mainstream and non-conforming at the same time. I love Leland’s covering of the jazz age, touching on the importance of bebop, the blues and black and white influences on the music, the relational effect of the changing sounds on the musicians (and how they viewed music) and overall society throughout the history of hip.
The Listening: Poems by Kyle Dargan
This third-year graudate student’s first published collection of work. My favorite poem from this collection at the moment is Surrender IV: Muse. More to say about homeboy in the near future.
Wish list:
Pleasure Dome (New and Selected Poems) by Yusef Komunyakaa
Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
How to Be Alone (Essays) by Jonathan Franzen
In other news:
I have three poems in mind and I am brainclouding now:
Paid for silence: my perspective of a 14 year old girl being gunned down after requesting to be paid to keep quiet about a murder she witnessed.
The funeral: my feelings about the death of 19 year old Deloren Young, who was killed during Thanksgiving break, apparently over a “beef” a friend of his, had with some men.
Distraction: part fiction attempt to gain a better understanding of my own exploits in the realm of relationships.
…more than enough on my plate. Apparently, the bucknell seminar for younger poets application is due at the end of the month…my cave canem manuscript should be done by mid-january.
What I’m reading:
Hip: A history by John Leland
A thorough historical view of hip’s contents, from minstrel show of the early and mid- 1800s to the beat generation to the lost generation, to gansta rap. Interesting so far, especially the parallels of what is hip and it’s contradictory personality, being mainstream and non-conforming at the same time. I love Leland’s covering of the jazz age, touching on the importance of bebop, the blues and black and white influences on the music, the relational effect of the changing sounds on the musicians (and how they viewed music) and overall society throughout the history of hip.
The Listening: Poems by Kyle Dargan
This third-year graudate student’s first published collection of work. My favorite poem from this collection at the moment is Surrender IV: Muse. More to say about homeboy in the near future.
Wish list:
Pleasure Dome (New and Selected Poems) by Yusef Komunyakaa
Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
How to Be Alone (Essays) by Jonathan Franzen
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)