Super heroes
The depressed make the best super heroes
Let's send the suicidal out to fight crime
What bad could happen; they die?
Best case scenario: they catch bad guys
And realize there's a reason
To put on their capes in the morning
They will remain humble
Dressed in their spandex color
Contrasting crazily with hidden emotions
Apathy wins the day
Blazing red, bright blue, garish green
Tights hug close to fat juggling thighs
Able to leap tall curbs with a single bound
Poem:
I thought of the first line while going about my normal day to day stuff, and the rest progressed from there. It turns out I do have much more success writing creatively in the morning, so that's good to know. While I do have some rather crazy ideas come into my head under sleep deprived conditions, waiting until the morning rather than forcing something late at night might be a good idea in general.
Observation:
I made a recent observation at work. It occurred in the likeliest of places for epiphanies: the bathroom. Specifically, the handicapped stall. (It's more spacious, and I'm like 99% sure there are no handicapped people in my building.) So I finish the task I went in there to do, and reach for the toilet paper. Now, I have grown accustomed to shoddy toilet paper. You know, the paper-thin stuff you have to reel off by the yard in order to fold over enough times to feel confident you won't wind up with a terrible situation on your hands (haha, joke). But much to my surprise, there were two types of toilet paper available. There was the normal, tracing paper-style stuff, and next to it, practically glowing in all its glory, was a roll of some variety of quilted toilet paper. It was luxurious. Which gave me a great idea. What if, instead of spending money on television advertisements, a major toilet paper company just went around to all the portable toilets, cheap office buildings, and schools and such, and put a roll of toilet paper next to the crappy stuff (the jokes are just writing themselves today). They could put a label over it or something to make people notice not only the superior option they have available, but also the brand which is so far above what they are used to. I know if I had known what kind was in the stall the other day, I at least would have remembered it. And let's be honest: who goes into a stall and doesn't look around for something to distract their attention? Talk about a captive audience! There's no way someone would leave without at least being aware of the product, and the whole point of a commercial is to make sure that the next time the consumer is at the store, a particular brand comes to mind. Mission accomplished.
Exercise:"The Squid, the Lampshade, and the Smell of Burning Tortillas"
Write something that incorporates a squid, a lampshade and the smell of burning tortillas.
The paper lampshades in the tapas bar were losing color. The afternoon sun had bleached them all from their vibrant red to a blushing of pink, and Carlos was sure it wouldn't be long until they joined the rest of the town in fading from attention. It was rare that anyone new showed up. The locals all knew things were on the decline. They extended their siestas into late afternoon, returning to work for an hour before calling it quitting time. And the few regulars to the tapas bar didn't notice when the things they never ordered began to disappear from the menu. If it hadn't been for Pedro, calamari wouldn't even be an option these days. Nobody else liked eating it, and the preparation was a pain. Not to mention the hassle of acquiring (semi) fresh squid. But Pedro was willing to pay for it, and still willing after the price went up with an explanation from Carlos of "supply and demand, brother. You're the only demand, and the supplying it sucks." It got so bad that one of his cooks returned from siesta, only to resume while at the stove. How a man could fall asleep in front of a gas range, Carlos couldn't figure out, but when the smell of burning tortillas meandered its way out the door, it was all to evident that the town was running out of spirit in general.
Me:
I am already starting to feel a bit like I'm in limbo, and school hasn't even ended yet. This doesn't bode well for the next year of my life. I hope I can set a schedule and keep to it, but I'm afraid it just isn't possible to schedule all the things I want to do. I keep telling myself I'll have time to do such and such once school gets out. I'll have time to pick up programming, I'll have time to build computers, I'll have time to ride my bike, time to play handball, time to write, time to submit to law publications, time to study for the LSAT, time to play some frisbee, time to submit fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, time to work a bit, and time for relaxing. Obviously these are not all compatible. The worst part is, to commit to any of these would be a nearly full-time thing. I guess I could probably do the LSAT, law publications, and handball all while working, but biking is supposed to be four hours a day, handball is usually two or three hours, it takes three hours to go from parts to a fully tested computer, and that's only a few of the things I have in mind. What a disaster.
I haven't been feeling very poetic recently. I'm sure it has shown in my poetry, so I'm sorry for that. I listened to Ben Percy give a reading in the library today, and it seems like every time I interact with that guy I am motivated to go out and write. And then as soon as I leave the motivation fades in light of all the other things I have to do. And now I am unable to find it again. He says his goal is to write two pages a day, or 14 a week. I know I could do that. I know I'm good enough at putting words together, bringing stories to life, and keeping things straight. I'm just not good enough at getting it done. I'm beginning to think that's all that separates writers from non-writers. It's not hard to come up with words. The hard part is doing it every day, and to have the passion to go back to it even when your cat dies, your legs hurt, you fail a test, you get rejected, or you realize one of your characters needs to be cut and a re-write is needed. And it's that I'm afraid I'll never acquire. I'm too flighty. Maybe that will change. Maybe I could change it right now if I really wanted to, but I'm too interested in everything. Or not interested enough in one thing. Either way, I'm backing myself into a corner where options start eliminating themselves because I'm too indecisive. Hence, the title of this post.
April 21, 2011
April 19, 2011
Getting Up to Speed
Texas
Nothing useful came from Texas,
all their exports as beneficial
as the tumbleweed blown north
and into the path of the Lincoln Navigator.
Swerving made as much sense
as protesting innocence
to a white jury
who knew a cop had been killed
who knew they had caught someone
who knew enough.
And as the Navigator tumbled
and stood still eventually
still shouting directions
"in 100 feet, turn yourself rightside-up
and a mile after that,
pretend nothing happened at all"
Poem:
I still can't believe the stuff in the movie "A Thin Blue Line" actually happened. The way everyone went about that case was disgraceful. So I wrote a poem that is sort of about that. but is mostly about the fact that it's really late and I want to go to sleep, and that's something easy to write about. Sorry for the cop-out. I'll be back at it again soon.
Observation:
I think I have something to continue talking about. Oh yup. Miranda Rights. You know, those things that are yelled at the bad people as they're being arrested. I don't know what I found most interesting about our discussion. I thought it was interesting that the Miranda case freed Miranda and the other cases currently being considered at the time, but didn't have any effect on cases which had already been decided. This was because it is assumed by the courts that had any previous cases fallen under the same category, they would have been the ones to appear before the supreme court and set precedent. So since Miranda was the first case to consider these rights, it must have been the first case during which they were violated. Obviously that is probably incorrect, but it makes sense as a way of justifying not having to reconsider every previous case ever. After all, if their rights had been violated that badly, they would have brought it to the attention of the court and the Miranda case would have fallen into their category.
Another interesting thing about the Miranda case is that it was stressed that the reading of rights might not be necessary if everyone weren't so ignorant of the law. But it does make sense that people who otherwise might be smart enough not to self-incriminate could panic when placed in a jail cell and told to confess or things would get bad for them real fast. In fact, when presented with the evidence that would be brought against them in court, even an innocent man might think it in his best interest to plead guilty to something to receive a shorter sentence. So it makes sense to tell them they can ask for a lawyer whenever, and to stop questioning them until one is present.
Exercise:
It's spring. Your character is walking out of doors and sees the burgeoning trees and flowers, hears the birdsong. But the character's reaction to all this newness and freshness is not what you would expect...
Stupid birds. Loud, noisy, and stupid. Also, loud. They sounded alright for the first five or ten minutes, sure, but after Franz had spent a half hour on his doctor-recommended walk, he was ready to learn how to shoot a gun. He briefly wondered how much a shotgun cost. He liked the branches better when they were bare. At least then you could see what the tree was really up to. All the leaves turned individual trees with character into a solid green mass, indistinguishable from their brethren, and all just waiting for a couple of months before littering their refuse all over his lawn. He could already imagine himself raking. And the worst part was, he only had one measly tree on his property. But that didn't stop the leaves from showing up in full force. His maple dropped quite a few leaves, certainly, but sometimes he'd rake for minutes and not see a single maple leaf. Ridiculous.
Franz wondered how high a wall would be required to effectively prevent unauthorized leaves from gaining entrance. He guessed it might require a dome.
Me:
Up to speed in fragments: rode the windiest time trial ever, played handball in Des Moines (won bet for people betting on me), built a sweet computer, built a less-than-sweet computer, played handball in Ames, exuded pride for girlfriend's athletic accomplishments (team #1 seed in region), declared independence from my parents (at least as far as taxes are concerned) while preparing to move back home to avoid vagrancy, filled out a million rebates, yelled at the rain while secretly not minding so much, rode bike short and hard, attended nostalgia-prompting meeting about moving out of apartment.
In more detail: The past few days have been full of success stories as far as food is concerned. It all began with my usual stop at Tasty Tacos after playing handball in Des Moines on Sunday. The tacos, needless to say, were tasty. The next morning my mom said she was out of the muffin mix she wanted to make and was considering trying to make bran muffins. I fondly recalled the deliciously-glazed bran muffins of my freshman and sophomore years (oh the days of student meal plans), and looked up a recipe for some glaze. An hour later I was supposed to be playing handball, but was having almost no success due to the fact that I was too full to move around the court. I would sort of waddle my way over to one side and hit, then waddle the other direction and hope for the best. And to top it off, it turned out the bran we used in the muffins was almost as old as I am. Delicious. Later that day I made a pizza (okay, put a pizza together, since nothing was made from scratch). I topped the dough with sauce, a solid layer of pizza-blend cheese, an even more solid layer of pepperoni, and then sprinkled that with black olives, green pepper, onions, and sunflower seeds, all followed by another solid layer of mozzarella cheese. While impossible to pick up and eat, the result was quite tasty. And then today I tried my hand for the first time at cooking burgers. I took a pound of ground beef, an egg, onions, green peppers, and (again) sunflower seeds, combined it all, and hoped for the best. If I weren't so shy of meat I could have done a much better job forming the patties, but it all turned out okay in the end. In case you noticed a trend, if you ever eat food that I've made and wonder if I have a secret ingredient, chances are pretty good it's sunflower seeds. So good. On everything. And tomorrow (Tuesday) I can go on campus and get a free breakfast because I'm graduating. We'll see if I'm awake.
Nothing useful came from Texas,
all their exports as beneficial
as the tumbleweed blown north
and into the path of the Lincoln Navigator.
Swerving made as much sense
as protesting innocence
to a white jury
who knew a cop had been killed
who knew they had caught someone
who knew enough.
And as the Navigator tumbled
and stood still eventually
still shouting directions
"in 100 feet, turn yourself rightside-up
and a mile after that,
pretend nothing happened at all"
Poem:
I still can't believe the stuff in the movie "A Thin Blue Line" actually happened. The way everyone went about that case was disgraceful. So I wrote a poem that is sort of about that. but is mostly about the fact that it's really late and I want to go to sleep, and that's something easy to write about. Sorry for the cop-out. I'll be back at it again soon.
Observation:
I think I have something to continue talking about. Oh yup. Miranda Rights. You know, those things that are yelled at the bad people as they're being arrested. I don't know what I found most interesting about our discussion. I thought it was interesting that the Miranda case freed Miranda and the other cases currently being considered at the time, but didn't have any effect on cases which had already been decided. This was because it is assumed by the courts that had any previous cases fallen under the same category, they would have been the ones to appear before the supreme court and set precedent. So since Miranda was the first case to consider these rights, it must have been the first case during which they were violated. Obviously that is probably incorrect, but it makes sense as a way of justifying not having to reconsider every previous case ever. After all, if their rights had been violated that badly, they would have brought it to the attention of the court and the Miranda case would have fallen into their category.
Another interesting thing about the Miranda case is that it was stressed that the reading of rights might not be necessary if everyone weren't so ignorant of the law. But it does make sense that people who otherwise might be smart enough not to self-incriminate could panic when placed in a jail cell and told to confess or things would get bad for them real fast. In fact, when presented with the evidence that would be brought against them in court, even an innocent man might think it in his best interest to plead guilty to something to receive a shorter sentence. So it makes sense to tell them they can ask for a lawyer whenever, and to stop questioning them until one is present.
Exercise:
It's spring. Your character is walking out of doors and sees the burgeoning trees and flowers, hears the birdsong. But the character's reaction to all this newness and freshness is not what you would expect...
Stupid birds. Loud, noisy, and stupid. Also, loud. They sounded alright for the first five or ten minutes, sure, but after Franz had spent a half hour on his doctor-recommended walk, he was ready to learn how to shoot a gun. He briefly wondered how much a shotgun cost. He liked the branches better when they were bare. At least then you could see what the tree was really up to. All the leaves turned individual trees with character into a solid green mass, indistinguishable from their brethren, and all just waiting for a couple of months before littering their refuse all over his lawn. He could already imagine himself raking. And the worst part was, he only had one measly tree on his property. But that didn't stop the leaves from showing up in full force. His maple dropped quite a few leaves, certainly, but sometimes he'd rake for minutes and not see a single maple leaf. Ridiculous.
Franz wondered how high a wall would be required to effectively prevent unauthorized leaves from gaining entrance. He guessed it might require a dome.
Me:
Up to speed in fragments: rode the windiest time trial ever, played handball in Des Moines (won bet for people betting on me), built a sweet computer, built a less-than-sweet computer, played handball in Ames, exuded pride for girlfriend's athletic accomplishments (team #1 seed in region), declared independence from my parents (at least as far as taxes are concerned) while preparing to move back home to avoid vagrancy, filled out a million rebates, yelled at the rain while secretly not minding so much, rode bike short and hard, attended nostalgia-prompting meeting about moving out of apartment.
In more detail: The past few days have been full of success stories as far as food is concerned. It all began with my usual stop at Tasty Tacos after playing handball in Des Moines on Sunday. The tacos, needless to say, were tasty. The next morning my mom said she was out of the muffin mix she wanted to make and was considering trying to make bran muffins. I fondly recalled the deliciously-glazed bran muffins of my freshman and sophomore years (oh the days of student meal plans), and looked up a recipe for some glaze. An hour later I was supposed to be playing handball, but was having almost no success due to the fact that I was too full to move around the court. I would sort of waddle my way over to one side and hit, then waddle the other direction and hope for the best. And to top it off, it turned out the bran we used in the muffins was almost as old as I am. Delicious. Later that day I made a pizza (okay, put a pizza together, since nothing was made from scratch). I topped the dough with sauce, a solid layer of pizza-blend cheese, an even more solid layer of pepperoni, and then sprinkled that with black olives, green pepper, onions, and sunflower seeds, all followed by another solid layer of mozzarella cheese. While impossible to pick up and eat, the result was quite tasty. And then today I tried my hand for the first time at cooking burgers. I took a pound of ground beef, an egg, onions, green peppers, and (again) sunflower seeds, combined it all, and hoped for the best. If I weren't so shy of meat I could have done a much better job forming the patties, but it all turned out okay in the end. In case you noticed a trend, if you ever eat food that I've made and wonder if I have a secret ingredient, chances are pretty good it's sunflower seeds. So good. On everything. And tomorrow (Tuesday) I can go on campus and get a free breakfast because I'm graduating. We'll see if I'm awake.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)