I'm
Weary of
Spontaneity
Fuck serendipity, too
I need to know what I'm looking forward to
How else do I know when to start enjoying myself
Perhaps my ex-girlfriends were right to end the boring relationship
But they never knew where they were going anyway
And I knew exactly where they were going
From the moment I met them
Expensive dinner
A few drinks
Bed
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Commandments, 2 iPads
Ten
Commandments
Could you imagine
Charlton Heston descending
Mt. Sinai holding
Two iPads
Smash
Commandments
Could you imagine
Charlton Heston descending
Mt. Sinai holding
Two iPads
Smash
Deadly Silence, Or Do You Just
Thunder
Deadly Silence
Who do you blame when lightning strikes
Do you retract our magnet privileges?
Mandate rubber safety attire
Or do you just
Thank God
Deadly Silence
Who do you blame when lightning strikes
Do you retract our magnet privileges?
Mandate rubber safety attire
Or do you just
Thank God
Monday, January 10, 2011
The Return of Captain Call-Out
So I spoke to an advisor at the University last week. I walked in, sat down
and said that I'm unhappy with my current career and I'd like to be an English
professor. I asked for suggestions, and here is what he said in response:
"Before you arrived, we took the liberty to pull up some records. We cross-referenced your email address and our IT department compiled some click-stream data from the University's website. It is all easily acquired information these days, took us about 10 minutes. In the past 18 months you have searched programs and even initiated cursory communication with advisers in fields ranging from psychology and social work to creative writing to culinary arts, at each instance citing how unhappy you are with your current career path and that you want to make a change. Well Mr. Murdock, I am here to tell you that you are not alone in this feeling. In fact, you fit a certain profile of remotely intelligent people with comfortable jobs that require no specific talent or training. See... jobs like these are meant for people like you. Indecisive, weak-willed, maybe good enough to do something better with yourself but will never work to your potential. Sure you may take a little initiative to seek alternatives, but like a stone rolling up a hill, your lack of focus drains all of your momentum before you reach the top, so you give up and try to roll back down that hill and use that momentum to ascend a different hill, but you always end up right back where you started. Specifically, you decide to start researching colleges, but you look at the requirements and decide that an academic environment is too constricting, so you'll just write more and get published, but you slowly realize that you don't have the chops and the background to really differentiate your natural talent from everybody else, so you start looking at schools again, almost oblivious to the cycle you're in but every now and then you snap out of it and realize how doomed your ambitions are, like a retard who is just smart enough to know he's retarded but not smart enough to do anything about it. Somewhere in the middle of all this you complacently read your favorite authors for vague inspiration or look for local workshops for a low-commitment way to hone your skills or you read at local open mics as you socialize and drink afterward, often surrounded by more focused, driven and successful individuals who make you feel like a loser. While you're out with them you get depressed, insecure, withdrawn and defensive and you drink too much and stumble home and you wake up late so you have to stay at work late to make up for it and accomplish next to nothing that day, ad infinitum. These are all symptoms of a disorder I like to call Luke Skywalker Syndrome. You need to feel like you are the chosen one, like you are fulfilling your destiny at whatever you decide to do, just by deciding to do it. However, Luke Skywalker never needed to fill out endless paperwork, build up his resume from the bottom levitating cinder blocks at Rebel construction sites, or spend 12 years of his life studying ethics and quantum physics. I know it sounds harmless and silly because it is Starwars, but rest assured, it is the poisoned wound from which you will be perpetually recovering until you die. Also, you missed the registration deadline for classes because you were too busy dicking around with some improve troupe. See you in 6 months."
"Before you arrived, we took the liberty to pull up some records. We cross-referenced your email address and our IT department compiled some click-stream data from the University's website. It is all easily acquired information these days, took us about 10 minutes. In the past 18 months you have searched programs and even initiated cursory communication with advisers in fields ranging from psychology and social work to creative writing to culinary arts, at each instance citing how unhappy you are with your current career path and that you want to make a change. Well Mr. Murdock, I am here to tell you that you are not alone in this feeling. In fact, you fit a certain profile of remotely intelligent people with comfortable jobs that require no specific talent or training. See... jobs like these are meant for people like you. Indecisive, weak-willed, maybe good enough to do something better with yourself but will never work to your potential. Sure you may take a little initiative to seek alternatives, but like a stone rolling up a hill, your lack of focus drains all of your momentum before you reach the top, so you give up and try to roll back down that hill and use that momentum to ascend a different hill, but you always end up right back where you started. Specifically, you decide to start researching colleges, but you look at the requirements and decide that an academic environment is too constricting, so you'll just write more and get published, but you slowly realize that you don't have the chops and the background to really differentiate your natural talent from everybody else, so you start looking at schools again, almost oblivious to the cycle you're in but every now and then you snap out of it and realize how doomed your ambitions are, like a retard who is just smart enough to know he's retarded but not smart enough to do anything about it. Somewhere in the middle of all this you complacently read your favorite authors for vague inspiration or look for local workshops for a low-commitment way to hone your skills or you read at local open mics as you socialize and drink afterward, often surrounded by more focused, driven and successful individuals who make you feel like a loser. While you're out with them you get depressed, insecure, withdrawn and defensive and you drink too much and stumble home and you wake up late so you have to stay at work late to make up for it and accomplish next to nothing that day, ad infinitum. These are all symptoms of a disorder I like to call Luke Skywalker Syndrome. You need to feel like you are the chosen one, like you are fulfilling your destiny at whatever you decide to do, just by deciding to do it. However, Luke Skywalker never needed to fill out endless paperwork, build up his resume from the bottom levitating cinder blocks at Rebel construction sites, or spend 12 years of his life studying ethics and quantum physics. I know it sounds harmless and silly because it is Starwars, but rest assured, it is the poisoned wound from which you will be perpetually recovering until you die. Also, you missed the registration deadline for classes because you were too busy dicking around with some improve troupe. See you in 6 months."
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Why am I Here, And So am I
More math poetry: divisible by two, not by three
OK
Why am I here?
Enduring boring philistines
When I speak my mind some look at me strange
As they tap their fingernails to Bruce Hornsby & the Range
While solvent scent and untuned guitars are my normal cafe fare
They admire $3000 portraits of candles hung on freshly painted walls
How likely am I to find likeminded kinfolk or new friends here
Though why restrict myself by what I think folks like me do
I could find a kindred spirit today
Because I am at this cafe
And so am I
I'll stay
OK
Why am I here?
Enduring boring philistines
When I speak my mind some look at me strange
As they tap their fingernails to Bruce Hornsby & the Range
While solvent scent and untuned guitars are my normal cafe fare
They admire $3000 portraits of candles hung on freshly painted walls
How likely am I to find likeminded kinfolk or new friends here
Though why restrict myself by what I think folks like me do
I could find a kindred spirit today
Because I am at this cafe
And so am I
I'll stay
Saturday, January 8, 2011
She Worked Hard, Anne Has Scored
Math poem: Odd prime numbers up to 23 syllables and back.
Anne
She worked hard
Strong reputation
And considerable debt
She grew weary of seeing lousy art work
Prominently displayed in cafes, bistros, and bars
With printed bios and price tags an oil exec could appreciate
So she sold out and became a local commodity to be reckoned with
At her peak popularity, she releases some pieces to select venues with menus
Hideous frail free standing mixed media with high center of gravity
Inevitably knocked over by baristas and bartenders
Shops paid for them at her arbitrarily set price
Anne's marketable soul that shatters like ice
Aside from being debt free
In the game of life
Anne has scored
One
Anne
She worked hard
Strong reputation
And considerable debt
She grew weary of seeing lousy art work
Prominently displayed in cafes, bistros, and bars
With printed bios and price tags an oil exec could appreciate
So she sold out and became a local commodity to be reckoned with
At her peak popularity, she releases some pieces to select venues with menus
Hideous frail free standing mixed media with high center of gravity
Inevitably knocked over by baristas and bartenders
Shops paid for them at her arbitrarily set price
Anne's marketable soul that shatters like ice
Aside from being debt free
In the game of life
Anne has scored
One
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
How the Flu Can Save Christmas
Christmas season was laying into everybody as they tried to trudge through an honest days work, which has been made all the more intolerable by the people who think they're the first to recognize that stores are putting up their decorations and playing the music earlier every year. If there's anything more annoying and tiresome than seeing windows sprayed with fake snow the day after Halloween, it's having to endure people complaining about it. To make matters worse, there is a particularly nasty flu going around. Nobody had really witnessed or experienced the particular nastiness of it, but anybody referring to it was specifically using the words "particularly" and "nasty" to describe it. So at the first sign of infection, everybody was going to their doctor to get their prescription for Z-Pak antibiotics for a quick recovery time so they can get back to not enjoying themselves. As could be predicted, however, cases of an antibiotic-resistant strain of the flu started to breach 10 OClock news special reports across the country. Scientists kept up with the evolving flu for a while, but eventually the flu became self-aware and started sprouting limbs until it looked vaguely humanoid. Like everything that is man-made and loathed, the flu monsters bare a few indelible traits of its creator. When they aren't devouring people alive, the flu monsters enjoy watching reality TV and buying consumer electronics online. There were also a few isolated incidences where groups of flu monsters were turned away from Chili's and the Cheesecake Factory.
In the meantime, panic has taken over as people search frantically for a way to continue their normal lives without worrying about these walking flu monsters. It is quickly discovered that the flu monsters won't harm anybody who either has or already had the flu. Soon after this revelation, the original flu becomes a hot item. People begin to exaggerate their flu symptoms or even fabricate them altogether as a status symbol. Women in BMWs will roll down the window and launch a dark yellow phlegm ball towards the crosswalk while stopped at a traffic light. Men in chic clubs will go through several tissues amplifying every acutely angled nose cleanse while making eye contact with an attractive woman. It is especially popular to use this tactic on dates as incentive to seize the opportunity to obtain the flu as a result of spending the night together.
Amidst all the excitement, nobody cares to be annoyed at repetitive Christmas music, and nobody can be bothered with Christmas shopping or anything else other than their own safety. Parents are trying to make sure their kids catch a proper flu, and then taking care of them once they have it. Soon, everybody has the flu, and all the single people in the world are now in the bountifully snot-caked arms of a new romance. Come Christmas eve, everybody was anticipating a sound sleep without having purchased a single Christmas gift, fully satisfied in their Nyquil haze. Except for all the coughing. And then the nagging thoughts of preparing an explaination to their family and friends that being safe from the flu monsters is sufficient as a gift... not to mention concocting a plausible, G-rated reason that Santa Clause could not defeat the Flu Monsters (having left that to last minute), and that he plans to make up for it next year. News coverage has been mostly focused on the war on flu monsters, and very few have noticed the lack of reporting about economic concerns during this crucial time of the year, which given the lack of activity people assumed must be dismal.
The entire country was trying to conquer their restlessness as they allowed bumping, creeking, and other abnormal sounds pass by during the unwholesome hours of the night when even the Christmas movies have extended ads during commercial breaks that bad stand-up comedians poke fun at. Eventually, people give in and get up as the morning glow hits the last of the 5 grieving phases. Parents are preparing their surprised disappointment voices, and couples are winding up for their sheepish apologetic tone as they approach their Christmas tree/living room focal area/marijuana bush/wherever the exchange of gifts takes place when the nation is in for a shock. An unquantifiable mound decadently wrapped presents are piled up with great feng shui and grace. Actually, some people still begin giving their apologies and excuses as planned because they are too fucking jaded to notice something this amazing at first glance. Once the elation subsided enough to ask questions, people discovered that the presents were from the Flu Monsters, who had compuslively purchased trendy gadgets and indulgent food items and, unable to find a use for it themselves, gave it to those who had earned their brotherhood by overcoming the unevolved flu.
To make things even better, family gatherings were significantly less painful than normal! Not one conversation was reduced to "I read on Yahoo news that a survey found that iTunes gift cards are easier to use than amazon.com gift cards." or "You know what dad? Life isn't about things that can be said during job interviews and placed on resumes. I'm gonna live my own life!" Nor were there any outbursts of, "You don't have to whisper, I know that I got fat this year. Maybe it wouldn't seem so sudden if somebody would visit me every now and then!" People were just content to see eachother, and where there may have usually been awkward silence to be filled with passive aggressive comments or bland filler was replaced by tales of surviving the flu monsters. After Christmas, the flu monsters were nowhere to be found. But there was news that Apple, Verizon Wireless, and Williams-Sonoma had all purchased large shares of Pfizer, manufacturer of Z-Pak antibiotics.
In the meantime, panic has taken over as people search frantically for a way to continue their normal lives without worrying about these walking flu monsters. It is quickly discovered that the flu monsters won't harm anybody who either has or already had the flu. Soon after this revelation, the original flu becomes a hot item. People begin to exaggerate their flu symptoms or even fabricate them altogether as a status symbol. Women in BMWs will roll down the window and launch a dark yellow phlegm ball towards the crosswalk while stopped at a traffic light. Men in chic clubs will go through several tissues amplifying every acutely angled nose cleanse while making eye contact with an attractive woman. It is especially popular to use this tactic on dates as incentive to seize the opportunity to obtain the flu as a result of spending the night together.
Amidst all the excitement, nobody cares to be annoyed at repetitive Christmas music, and nobody can be bothered with Christmas shopping or anything else other than their own safety. Parents are trying to make sure their kids catch a proper flu, and then taking care of them once they have it. Soon, everybody has the flu, and all the single people in the world are now in the bountifully snot-caked arms of a new romance. Come Christmas eve, everybody was anticipating a sound sleep without having purchased a single Christmas gift, fully satisfied in their Nyquil haze. Except for all the coughing. And then the nagging thoughts of preparing an explaination to their family and friends that being safe from the flu monsters is sufficient as a gift... not to mention concocting a plausible, G-rated reason that Santa Clause could not defeat the Flu Monsters (having left that to last minute), and that he plans to make up for it next year. News coverage has been mostly focused on the war on flu monsters, and very few have noticed the lack of reporting about economic concerns during this crucial time of the year, which given the lack of activity people assumed must be dismal.
The entire country was trying to conquer their restlessness as they allowed bumping, creeking, and other abnormal sounds pass by during the unwholesome hours of the night when even the Christmas movies have extended ads during commercial breaks that bad stand-up comedians poke fun at. Eventually, people give in and get up as the morning glow hits the last of the 5 grieving phases. Parents are preparing their surprised disappointment voices, and couples are winding up for their sheepish apologetic tone as they approach their Christmas tree/living room focal area/marijuana bush/wherever the exchange of gifts takes place when the nation is in for a shock. An unquantifiable mound decadently wrapped presents are piled up with great feng shui and grace. Actually, some people still begin giving their apologies and excuses as planned because they are too fucking jaded to notice something this amazing at first glance. Once the elation subsided enough to ask questions, people discovered that the presents were from the Flu Monsters, who had compuslively purchased trendy gadgets and indulgent food items and, unable to find a use for it themselves, gave it to those who had earned their brotherhood by overcoming the unevolved flu.
To make things even better, family gatherings were significantly less painful than normal! Not one conversation was reduced to "I read on Yahoo news that a survey found that iTunes gift cards are easier to use than amazon.com gift cards." or "You know what dad? Life isn't about things that can be said during job interviews and placed on resumes. I'm gonna live my own life!" Nor were there any outbursts of, "You don't have to whisper, I know that I got fat this year. Maybe it wouldn't seem so sudden if somebody would visit me every now and then!" People were just content to see eachother, and where there may have usually been awkward silence to be filled with passive aggressive comments or bland filler was replaced by tales of surviving the flu monsters. After Christmas, the flu monsters were nowhere to be found. But there was news that Apple, Verizon Wireless, and Williams-Sonoma had all purchased large shares of Pfizer, manufacturer of Z-Pak antibiotics.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
