wednesday lament

music: coldplay - high speed


poetry strewn across the bed
i am now beyond expectation
i am hindsight 20/20 vision
a stereo without treble

--

fingers do not gain confidence
while aging, yet eyes do
having seen and felt, tied
to the brain's third dimension
somehow understanding
what's been seen, what's been felt

--

poetry strewn across the bed
poetry,
thrown across the bed

i will not apologize that i know
the end of my story, unwritten
the hidden path, the unopened doors

and that today i did not live
i only watched from my window,
envious, lethargic,

within a daydream.

thoughts.

music: death cab for cutie- transatlanticism


looking back on all the time i wasted thinking of the future here in this room alone with expectation i find it hard sometimes to leave it. blown here and there with the wilted leaves of yesterday's phosphorescent foliage, a life losing its neon. i am needed so i'm told but what do i need? this question follows me through the urban jungle as i go to drown myself in afterthoughts.

i quit my job.

After seven months of working with the kids, I've found that it is time to move on. No, I haven't locked up anything yet so this is me stepping out on a limb. The last day felt invigorating yet horrible at the same time. There were many people at my job that I loved and others I do not care to see ever again. The director and assistant director of the center didnt say goodbye or good luck or anything. They just gave me papers to sign, my last check and that was it. Seven months of toiling hours on end with kids and not even a pat on the back. Val thinks it's because I only gave a couple of days notice, but it's not like I was full time (2-3 1/2 hours a day) so I don't think 2 weeks was warranted (not to mention that my hours would have been cut? further next week!). I think their response to my resignation was a direct reflection of their character. Simply, they lack class when it comes to how they treat their employers, and for that reason, I'm no longer there.

guilty until proven innocent

I was accused of stealing cranberry juice from a 7-Eleven. I went into the store to get some chaser for Grey Goose Val had at her crib when I realized the store didnt have a large bottle; they only had the individual ones. So, I walked out of the store and asked Val if she wanted to get those. She did. I proceeded to walk back into the store and buy two of the juices when a pregnant Hispanic woman began to yell at me. She told me I put the juice in my pocket and to give it back. But why would I steal juice from the store and come right back? Dumbfounded by this rather logical question, she said, "Well, I thought you put something in your pocket", and reminded me that there were cameras watching me. Apparently cameras aren't needed. She has the eyes of a hawk. *scratches head*

dad and sons

trip to san francisco

streetcar named powell and mason



union square



golden gate bridge



libation



airport

me and me girlfriend

me and val 


aww, ain't that precious.

wake me up when life is over #1

is what I said to alana
who was not there when I
said it once again
while intrigued by the silence
of copper light against back-alley
foliage; how it ignites
the head-fire of my hangover

in the thick of the night
stars appear above the urban
landscape to admire
the slur of my tongue
trying to wrap itself around
some new declaration
of love for clouds and jazz
but the world has too few words

and so do i