Isolation
Stone buildings echo nothing
Everyone has their own world
Boundaried by white plastic plugs
Stoppering sounds within
Defeaning silence without
Death is the lightest weight
Hardly noticed
Except when walking
Without headphones
Aross lonely openness
It bouys us
Gives us the option
To risk it all
For king and country
Because to hell with it
Life's short anyway
Poem:
My dad mentioned that someone he knows was in China recently and noticed that everyone there was "plugged in." They all had headphones, tablets, smartphones, etc, and I thought it fit in well with my last poem about how I distract myself using my phone. It's the same way on college campuses. People can't even make it from one class to another without turning on their music. Not that I'm an exception, of course. It's just odd how things change. I have walked through campus in the summer without distraction, and it's a really nice place. The campus is spacious, and a good combination of nature and function. But I'm pretty sure nobody notices it anymore as they go by bobbing their heads to the beat.
Observation:
Apparently disc golf is hazardous to my health. Last year I slipped on some stairs and ripped off the tip of my toe, which hurt a lot. Yesterday something even sillier happened. I have a bit of trouble with tendinitis in my right shoulder, so I have been playing left handed for the most part to avoid injury and just as a fun diversion. And it turns out I'm sometimes not terrible, but I haven't taken disc golf seriously in years, and don't really plan on playing the multiple rounds a day I used to. Anyway, I have been having a terrible time throwing forehands with my left hand since I've been trying to do it for ultimate, and it doesn't translate very well to disc golf. It's just a different angle you have to release the disc at, and I can't seem to get it down after learning the other way. But on this particular occasion I decided to give it everything I had and see what happened. Well, what happened was that I tried so hard that I fell off the tee. My shoes were muddy from the previus holes (and not blessed with good traction to begin with), and I flung myself into the motion with such vigor that my left foot slipped completely out from under me and I quite suddenly found myself sliding off the pad and into the mud in front. So I was covered in dirt, and my shin took the brunt of my fall, resulting in scrapes and bruising. And the funny thing? My disc flew further and straighter than it ever has. It went so well it flew past the hole and was lost to a water hazard. Just my luck. As my dad and I were walking down the fairway, I remarked that despite it going better than it ever has before, I probably wouldn't be repeating my methods anytime soon.
Exercise:
Use the first line of a nursery rhyme (take your pick) to start a story.
"Hey, Diddle Diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon."
Diddle Diddle looked up and grinned, while the cat just kept licking itself.
"It's been a while since that happened. That cow has been feeling a bit less springy since summer rolled around. It must be the heat got to her. But it's a cool night, so that could explain it. How much did she clear it by?"
The fiddle didn't say anything. It had no idea why it was included in the conversation to begin with.
Clarence looked up and tried to judge. "Oh, I'd say a couple of stars. See those two bright ones? I reckon she passed right between them."
Diddle Diddle cocked an eyebrow. "Not too shabby."
When the cow was in prime form, it wasn't uncommon for her to go a bit higher, but the worst was when she thought she was up for it and plowed right into the lunar surface. Oh sure, the craters looked cool and all (a bit like a face, really), but it wrecked havoc on the cowshoes. Clarence had started keeping a couple of extra sets around, especially in summer, but they just weren't as lucky as the horse variety.
Me:
I rode hills in the morning on Monday, then motorpaced in the afternoon. I didn't feel as bad as I anticipated, but was in for a rude awakening the next day when I tried to do, well, just about anything. My legs didn't hurt; they just refused to move. So I slogged out on my ride in the morning and lumbered around the handball court at night. But today I felt good again, and the group ride was fun. We didn't go very far because there are a few races coming right up that we want to do well at (as our team is putting them on). But it's fun to go out, have a good time, and feel a bit of the burn. And I won a couple of sprints, which is a nice confidence boost. I don't have much else to say about me currently. My shin is a bit tender, but I feel stupid complaining about it because I FELL OVER ALL BY MYSELF ON A COMPLETELY LEVEL SURFACE DOING SOMETHING I'VE DONE HUNDREDS OF TIMES. So that's a bit silly.
I really enjoyed the exercise I selected for today. I felt creative/funny, and when I'm in that mood I generally like what comes out of my brain. Of course, it would be cool if it were funny to other people too (the bit about spring leaving in summer, naming my character Diddle Diddle to have a shot at the rhyme making any sort of sense, and cowshoes, to name a few things I'm sure are a bit of a stretch), but hey, if I'm the only one laughing, I'll still consider it a success. And with that, I'll say good night. Thanks for reading, as always.
June 15, 2011
June 13, 2011
Sad muscular men ride kittens to undistracted victory
Undistracted
The stillness vibrates
Soundless air too empty
To remain still.
The thunder of eyelashes
Colliding in blackness
Echoes in my empty mind
As dim lights gleam
Off metal scraps
And mentality alternates
Between throbbing foreground
And backgrounded thoughts.
My heart announces itself
In my eardrums
Steadily increasing its pace
As reality shrinks in,
Glinting metal melding into
White walls, replacing pictures
With shadowed shapes
Unbearable
Headphones convey life's soundtrack
Drowning out my mortal heart
With unsteady beats of bass
Intangibility replaces
Real walls and shining splinters
Sheltering my mind
From the void of closed eyes.
Poem:
It has been obvious to almost anyone that I'm constantly on my phone. The reason for this is that if I don't constantly distract myself with something, my mind wanders to odd things that I hardly ever feel like thinking about. So rather than take the chance, I give it no choice but to focus on something inane. I think if I want to write well, though, I'm going to have to start weaning myself from my technology. I can write a bit with music playing, but it's never my best work. And I never have interesting thoughts until I unplug myself. I'm so unused to just sitting and thinking that I'm sure it will feel strange, and I might even get scolded for being lazy, but I'm pretty sure it's necessary. The real trick will be not falling asleep. I'm pretty sure that's my Pavlovian response at this point to turning off my phone. The only time it happens is right before bed. When it's off, it means I'm tired enough to sleep, and I'm not sure I will be able to have it off without napping. We'll see.
Observation:
I looked at my phone recently and realized I've taken hundreds of pictures with it. So because I don't really have a plan for what to write about, I thought I'd include a few to talk about.
The photos for today are of my mom's cat Fuso. I don't feel as thought they accurately portray the animal at all, but they're pretty funny.
Let me clarify. It's not that they portray it in too unintelligent a light. It's more that they don't show the side of the animal that is constantly hissing at me and baring its teeth. This cat seems to only be dormant about five percent of the time. That time rarely coincides with times I want it to happen. He is capable of yowling nearly constantly for hours at a time if he thinks there is even a chance it might affect his situation. This has resulted in him being relocated to the basement at night, since he is incredibly annoying early in the morning, and if you don't provide at least a floor of separation he will sit outside any closed door and be just as annoying as if he were licking your face. But this picture shows him in a different light, where he somehow decided that he was the right size for that box. I had to snap the photo.
Every once in a while, I am able to manipulate a cat into doing something I want. This time, Fuso was playing with the sandals (why he would do that, I have no idea), and my dad and I scratched at the floor on either side until he tried to paw our hands by reaching through. Then we kept him distracted until the picture could be taken. Adorableness ensued.
Exercise:
From any book or magazine, take 2 lines and 10 other words, all randomly chosen. Using this as your raw material, rearranging in any way, what can you write in 5 minutes?
Four others had fled the scene and have since remained anonymous.
Why he was crying he couldn't fathom.
Finally, Affirming, Pursed, Truth, Slightest, Green, Thick, Rich, Pass, Threadbare
Josh pursed his lips, the slightest green tinge crawling down his face and passing into his thick neck. His muscular shoulders heaved, the threadbare shirt doing a poor job of either covering or soaking up his sorrow. Why he was crying he couldn't fathom. He was just passing by. These rich folks didn't care about him, and any other man in his situation would be glad they finally got what was coming to them. When the police asked their questions he nodded, affirming what they suspected. One gang member lay on the street, unconscious or worse he couldn't tell, but others had gotten away. He heard a man on the tv say later, "four others had fled the scene, and have since remained anonymous."
Me:
I won a race this weekend. It has been a while since that happened, and I certainly wasn't expecting it to happen on a course with no hills or anything, but I guess it all started with a haircut. That's what my mom said anyway. I had quite a bit of confidence from that fast ride I did on Friday, and I knew the course for the criterium Saturday was flat, so I just gave it everything pretty much from the beginning, knowing I could go twenty-five or more the entire time. In fact, as we were all on the line waiting for the race to start, my teammate Gavin asked if I was going to go right from the whistle. I said only if I could get my foot into the pedal, since that was a severely limiting factor over the Memorial Day race weekend. Well, I did, and I sprinted for a while to start the race. I got caught quickly, but went hard again as we came across the line for the first time. I got another gap, and this one stuck for a bit more than a lap before the field made up the ground. Gavin took over soon after that, making sure the pace didn't fall too much. It might have been better if he had attacked hard enough to get a decent gap, but it set me up well to go again soon after that. I was joined by Mark Beatty off the front, but I wasn't quite willing to kill myself to stay away at that point. It seemed like I could get a break when I wanted, and it wasn't worth risking giving it everything in case we were caught later. So once again, I rejoined the pack. This time I sat in for a couple of laps, but when the pace slowed, I kept attacking. This happened two or three more times. At one point I was just pulling through to the front because it was slow (but not attacking) and a guy said "watch out, he's going to attack." Flattering as it was, I didn't oblige. I kept up the shenanigans until four laps to go, and then started waiting for a good time to make an all-out move for the finish. Gavin attacked with three laps to go, and when he was caught, I was set up perfectly for my move. I went with two to go, and nobody responded. I gave it just about everything, I had, looked back, and still had a gap with three corners left. I looked back before the second to last corner to see Mark (from earier) charging strong off the front. Before the last corner he had gotten about halfway from the field to me, and I gave the sprint everything I had left. I guess it didn't wind up being that close, but it was a bit intimidating trying to win from so far out.
I kinda collapsed after the race briefly, but my legs felt okay the rest of the night. That carried over to this morning, where I played some of the best handball I've played in a long time. So based on the way things have been going, it certainly seems like the haircut was the key. My mom's theory seems to hold water for now. Of course, if things keep going well, I'll have to start cutting my hair every other day or so...
Speaking of my mom, she raced and got money too. It helped that not enough women showed up to fill the prize list, but she certainly wasn't slower than the other ladies in the race. She never really caught on to the group, though, and chased the whole race. But she didn't lose much time on them, and looked good from what I could see. My dad was in my race, and I looked back a couple of times to see him on my wheel, which was cool. One time I was moving up the pack, and some guy said "here's a lead-out," which I thought was pretty amusing. We still had nine laps to go! That would have been some lead out. But talking to my dad after the race, he said he was doing a good job of keeping people off my wheel, and was able to get to the front to disorganize any effort to chase me when I went with two to go. It's great to have teammates, even cooler that some of them are my family!
The stillness vibrates
Soundless air too empty
To remain still.
The thunder of eyelashes
Colliding in blackness
Echoes in my empty mind
As dim lights gleam
Off metal scraps
And mentality alternates
Between throbbing foreground
And backgrounded thoughts.
My heart announces itself
In my eardrums
Steadily increasing its pace
As reality shrinks in,
Glinting metal melding into
White walls, replacing pictures
With shadowed shapes
Unbearable
Headphones convey life's soundtrack
Drowning out my mortal heart
With unsteady beats of bass
Intangibility replaces
Real walls and shining splinters
Sheltering my mind
From the void of closed eyes.
Poem:
It has been obvious to almost anyone that I'm constantly on my phone. The reason for this is that if I don't constantly distract myself with something, my mind wanders to odd things that I hardly ever feel like thinking about. So rather than take the chance, I give it no choice but to focus on something inane. I think if I want to write well, though, I'm going to have to start weaning myself from my technology. I can write a bit with music playing, but it's never my best work. And I never have interesting thoughts until I unplug myself. I'm so unused to just sitting and thinking that I'm sure it will feel strange, and I might even get scolded for being lazy, but I'm pretty sure it's necessary. The real trick will be not falling asleep. I'm pretty sure that's my Pavlovian response at this point to turning off my phone. The only time it happens is right before bed. When it's off, it means I'm tired enough to sleep, and I'm not sure I will be able to have it off without napping. We'll see.
Observation:
I looked at my phone recently and realized I've taken hundreds of pictures with it. So because I don't really have a plan for what to write about, I thought I'd include a few to talk about.
The photos for today are of my mom's cat Fuso. I don't feel as thought they accurately portray the animal at all, but they're pretty funny.
Exercise:
From any book or magazine, take 2 lines and 10 other words, all randomly chosen. Using this as your raw material, rearranging in any way, what can you write in 5 minutes?
Four others had fled the scene and have since remained anonymous.
Why he was crying he couldn't fathom.
Finally, Affirming, Pursed, Truth, Slightest, Green, Thick, Rich, Pass, Threadbare
Josh pursed his lips, the slightest green tinge crawling down his face and passing into his thick neck. His muscular shoulders heaved, the threadbare shirt doing a poor job of either covering or soaking up his sorrow. Why he was crying he couldn't fathom. He was just passing by. These rich folks didn't care about him, and any other man in his situation would be glad they finally got what was coming to them. When the police asked their questions he nodded, affirming what they suspected. One gang member lay on the street, unconscious or worse he couldn't tell, but others had gotten away. He heard a man on the tv say later, "four others had fled the scene, and have since remained anonymous."
Me:
I won a race this weekend. It has been a while since that happened, and I certainly wasn't expecting it to happen on a course with no hills or anything, but I guess it all started with a haircut. That's what my mom said anyway. I had quite a bit of confidence from that fast ride I did on Friday, and I knew the course for the criterium Saturday was flat, so I just gave it everything pretty much from the beginning, knowing I could go twenty-five or more the entire time. In fact, as we were all on the line waiting for the race to start, my teammate Gavin asked if I was going to go right from the whistle. I said only if I could get my foot into the pedal, since that was a severely limiting factor over the Memorial Day race weekend. Well, I did, and I sprinted for a while to start the race. I got caught quickly, but went hard again as we came across the line for the first time. I got another gap, and this one stuck for a bit more than a lap before the field made up the ground. Gavin took over soon after that, making sure the pace didn't fall too much. It might have been better if he had attacked hard enough to get a decent gap, but it set me up well to go again soon after that. I was joined by Mark Beatty off the front, but I wasn't quite willing to kill myself to stay away at that point. It seemed like I could get a break when I wanted, and it wasn't worth risking giving it everything in case we were caught later. So once again, I rejoined the pack. This time I sat in for a couple of laps, but when the pace slowed, I kept attacking. This happened two or three more times. At one point I was just pulling through to the front because it was slow (but not attacking) and a guy said "watch out, he's going to attack." Flattering as it was, I didn't oblige. I kept up the shenanigans until four laps to go, and then started waiting for a good time to make an all-out move for the finish. Gavin attacked with three laps to go, and when he was caught, I was set up perfectly for my move. I went with two to go, and nobody responded. I gave it just about everything, I had, looked back, and still had a gap with three corners left. I looked back before the second to last corner to see Mark (from earier) charging strong off the front. Before the last corner he had gotten about halfway from the field to me, and I gave the sprint everything I had left. I guess it didn't wind up being that close, but it was a bit intimidating trying to win from so far out.
I kinda collapsed after the race briefly, but my legs felt okay the rest of the night. That carried over to this morning, where I played some of the best handball I've played in a long time. So based on the way things have been going, it certainly seems like the haircut was the key. My mom's theory seems to hold water for now. Of course, if things keep going well, I'll have to start cutting my hair every other day or so...
Speaking of my mom, she raced and got money too. It helped that not enough women showed up to fill the prize list, but she certainly wasn't slower than the other ladies in the race. She never really caught on to the group, though, and chased the whole race. But she didn't lose much time on them, and looked good from what I could see. My dad was in my race, and I looked back a couple of times to see him on my wheel, which was cool. One time I was moving up the pack, and some guy said "here's a lead-out," which I thought was pretty amusing. We still had nine laps to go! That would have been some lead out. But talking to my dad after the race, he said he was doing a good job of keeping people off my wheel, and was able to get to the front to disorganize any effort to chase me when I went with two to go. It's great to have teammates, even cooler that some of them are my family!
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