tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35513979262509031202024-03-21T14:05:36.503-04:00Disaster and Lysander: The Pharcyde of The EmoA Blog about Life, The Universe, and Everything.
Not for the faint of heart, those sensitive to strong language, those sensitive to adult subjects, or those that don't give a fuck what I think.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.comBlogger102125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-23671837086614644562010-12-18T01:48:00.002-05:002010-12-18T02:10:12.968-05:00'Sorrow found me when I was young / Sorrow waited, Sorrow won''m not sure why I'm posting here. I doubt it'll get read.<br />I guess I'm just in a mood.<br /><br />---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />I sometimes feel /<br />Like, like, like /<br />I'm not good /<br />For you /<br />Like, like /<br />Not right /<br />For you /<br />Sometimes, I /<br />Feel like /<br />Like, like /<br />I'm getting to /<br />A point /<br />Where I'm no fun /<br />Anymore /<br />Sometimes, I /<br />Feel like /<br />Like, like /<br />My dreams are /<br />Too broken /<br />For you /<br />Like, like /<br />Only forty /<br />Hours and getting /<br />'Free' are my /<br />Dreams anymore /<br />And you /<br />You're my only /<br />Real /<br />Dream any /<br />More, you /<br />And this stupid /<br />Black, stringed /<br />Beast /<br />A month's rent /<br />Forgotten for /<br />A dream /<br />I used to dream /<br />I could write /<br />Now /<br />Now, all my /<br />Line /<br />Breaks /<br />Seem ran /<br />Dumb /<br />And it all seems so /<br />What? /<br />So what? /<br />So cliche. /<br />So. /<br />So, I'm still /<br />Writing /<br />Still /<br />Fighting /<br />Still dreaming of /<br />You /<br />And if my dreams /<br />Are broken /<br />Well /<br />Your dreams /<br />Are broken /<br />Too /<br />And I can /<br />Not /<br />Fix them without /<br />You /<br />And you /<br />Cannot /<br />Fix them without /<br />Me /<br />So me /<br />And you /<br />I guess we're stuck /<br />Together /<br />As long as /<br />You /<br />Want me /<br />I want you /<br />TooHiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-13004127176646613312010-04-08T15:36:00.002-04:002010-04-08T15:52:11.466-04:00Shitty PoetryThe birth of a new day<br /> New pen on a new page<br />New work with no new wage<br /> A new stage<br />For the same old actors<br /> The same factors<br />Plowing us over like over-grown tractors<br /> Like<br />Poverty, lack-of-plenty<br /> Selling for ten when<br />It's worth twenty<br /> Because you need the ten<br />And you'd take a penny<br /> When there's so many<br />Like you<br /> Broken down<br />Beat down<br /> To the ground<br />Bark like dogs<br /> In a third-rate pound<br />Your in the lost<br /> And found<br />'cause your money was<br /> Lost<br />And never found<br /> So turn around<br />Turn things around<br /> Do your best<br />Don't make a mess<br /> Before you hit the ground<br /><br />0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000<br /><br />Corner to<br />dirty<br />Corner, we<br />mark<br />each spot<br />our<br />own, like<br />loving<br />chess pieces -<br />King,<br />Queen, King,<br />Queen -<br />Check, Checkmate<br />on<br />my heart<br /><br />0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000<br /><br />New England highways fly by<br /> -your hand in mine<br />Your firework eyes<br /> -strike the iron in my mind<br /> -and set off sparks in my heartHiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-4366913351007441912010-01-24T01:18:00.001-05:002010-01-24T01:35:06.884-05:00I Wanted To Write Something HereI wanted to write something here<br />But realized, sorrowful, that I had<br />Nothing to write, nothing to say<br /><br />And no one to read it.<br /><br />I feel so strange tonight.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-56748594375446737532010-01-07T22:37:00.002-05:002010-01-07T22:44:41.266-05:00FrightenedIt's absolutely absurd how frightened I get when I remember you. It scares me how I look for me in the reflections of your writing; I always find shards of what could be myself. I then find the obvious disconnect; the place where the could-have-been-me isn't me. It's horrifying how my heart races when I hear from you, or I see some silly little thing that reminds me of you. It's maddening how angry I get when I pass down Thayer street and remember it's one of your favorite places and wish I could've walked down it with you; hand-in-hand, natch. It's terrifying how I continue to pine for you in spite of obvious flaws; namely, that there's a damn red line of how much I'll ever mean to you. It's chilling how I know I'll never forget kissing you; my first, and the only one that's meant a damn thing to me so far (that shitty little bitch couldn't be as good as you on your worst day).<br /><br />It makes my hairs stand on end when I remember you saying no one writes about you; because I did. And I do.<br /><br />I'm not over you yet, and that scares me. But, in time, I will be.<br />And even when I'm over you, I'll still love you.<br /><br />Azaleas, miss, and best wishes.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-29675291386905019632010-01-07T22:25:00.002-05:002010-01-07T22:31:16.508-05:00CookiesIt's bizarre how cookies have fault-lines; chocolate-chip California and macadamias hidden beneath dough like undersea rifts. You bite into them, but where you bite isn't where they break; and it falls apart, leaving a trail of crumbles like the wake of some great destruction.<br /><br />And that, friends, is how the cookie crumbles.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-33531440154081016582009-12-27T20:02:00.001-05:002009-12-27T20:06:15.803-05:00A song, a poem, a whiny young manCrimson Underground<br /><br /> It's a friday night, so turn down the lights<br /> In the Crimson Underground<br /> Blood-stained London, brutal claws flashing bright<br /> In the Crimson Underground<br /><br /> Little old boxer got mutilated late last night <br /> In the Crimson Underground<br /> Blood-money, money's funny<br /> In the Crimson Underground<br /><br /> Heh, draw some blood, yeah draw blood<br /> In the Crimson Underground<br /> Contender dreams with matted fur<br /> In the, in the,<br /> In the Crimson Underground<br /> In the Crimson Underground<br /><br />This is the kind of supermarket that ghosts live in.<br /><br /> This is the kind of supermarket<br /> Ghosts live in, bathed in early morning gospel-light<br /> Sunday-morning gospel-light<br /> Or born in Monday-morning rush-hour fights<br /> For supremacy on the highway<br /> First to the job<br /> Or the scene of the crime<br /> The plaza's empty as blue and white<br /> Alike rush to their meaniality<br /> As the age-old masses watch<br /> Mindless unmindful descendents<br /> From the kind of supermarket<br /> Ghosts live in<br /><br />In other news, I think I've met a girl I really like and I hope things work out well with her. I'm very much anxious and excited to meet her sometime soon!<br /><br />(I'm sure something terrible will happen and she'll hate me, though.).<br />"They say love is a risk / that you might always get hit out of nowhere / by some wave and end / up on your own."...HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-82864868840085474572009-12-01T22:20:00.002-05:002009-12-01T22:55:52.879-05:00Well, still, pretty good yearI feel... so old. So lonely and terrible and worthless.<br />I feel like one tiny snowflake out in July, somehow. I'm tired of watching all the guys I know meet girls, be happy, and just... be liked. Or loved. Or not alone.<br />I'm tired of being too weird or too ugly or too fat. I'm tired of the screaming and the names every other night. I'm tired of working far too much and still being treated like a good-for-nothing-slacker. I'm tired of not being wanted or appreciated.<br /><br />Another year's gone by and not much is better.<br />Still, pretty good year.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-14407920607213965502009-11-17T08:32:00.003-05:002009-11-17T09:27:59.625-05:00This Digital LifeMy life is defined by staccato black-or-white keyboard noises<br />Character after character punctuated by punctuation or white-space<br />Poems and stories and games and thoughts all wrapped up in tiny black pixels<br />Or speaking some obscure language like: if open paren string first dot trim open-close paren dot length greater than 0... oh. Yeah.<br />Hobbyjoblife wrapped up in electronic one-oh-one-oh-one-one-one-oh words is my life.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-1698897564352714772009-11-17T08:13:00.002-05:002009-11-17T08:19:41.414-05:00"Look, the east is burning red!"I'm tired of "No hope" and I'm tired of "No harm"<br />I'm tired of drawn out, worn out, half-cocked alarms<br />I'm burning like a roman candle, bright and blue in the eastern sky<br />I'm tired of walking this weary road - I'd much rather flyHiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-31227436626504666612009-11-10T08:43:00.002-05:002009-11-10T08:46:11.208-05:00You want to sink, so I'm going to let you...I need to stop falling for strangers<br />I need to stop falling like leaves<br />I need to stop falling in autumn<br />I need to stop falling in love<br />I need to stop writing poems that don't rhyme<br />I need to stop thinking these dreams<br />I need to stop dancing alone<br />I need to stop dreaming these thoughts<br />I need to stop feeling this burning<br />I need to stop falling for hope<br />I need to stop I need to stop<br />To stop<br />To stop<br />To stopHiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-54651002518196475862009-10-26T08:13:00.000-04:002009-10-26T08:14:25.968-04:00Another Finn-ian rant/poem...Yeah, I know I'm not hot, I'm more like lukewarm<br />And when I say I'm Luke-warm, I mean I'm a little dark side, a little light side<br />I'm a little on the fried side, not too much on the bright side<br />A little on the little teapot side, yeah, here is my handle<br />And you can find my spout - spout off some nonsense<br />Make no sense, bad sense of time, bad timing<br />Dead living and bad rhymingHiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-14780019011374858022009-10-13T13:16:00.002-04:002009-10-13T13:31:27.522-04:00HundrethOne-hundred written words<br />One-hundred fucking fears<br />One-hundred pointless posts<br />One-hundred terrible tears<br /><br />One-hundred quivering quartets<br />One-hundred blameless blasts<br />One-hundred silly songs<br />One-hundred painful pasts<br /><br />One-hundred darkened days<br />One-hundred little lights<br />One-hundred pitiful poems<br />One-hundred forgotten fights<br /><br />One-hundred daring dreams<br />One-hundred misty mates<br />One-hundred waking wonders<br />One-hundred brilliant baits<br /><br />One-hundred little loves<br />One-hundred angry acts<br />One-hundred cunning crows<br />One-hundred fiotional facts<br /><br />One-hundred killing kooks<br />One-hundred grand girls<br />One-hundred funny friends<br />One-hundred prose pearls<br /><br />Here's to another hundred!HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-19366808190900980112009-10-13T10:12:00.002-04:002009-10-13T10:37:49.738-04:00GrigorissonIn the time before time, there was God.<br />And God made Heaven, which was the Shining City, which was the place where the angels were. And the angels were the Sons of God and the Songs of God.<br />And God made the Chaos, which is the Wyld, which is the Darkness, which is all that that tempts and lurks at the edge of Creation.<br /><br />And in the City which was Heaven, the angels danced with one another and within one another for they were all the Songs and the Song of God. And their dance became work and their work became play and work once more.<br /><br />And their work made the Foundation, which was the place where all things were perfect in themselves and mighty and pure, and their work made the House, which was the World of men.<br /><br />And in time was the Mystery and Justice and the Angels' Fall, which was Murder. And some Angels fell out, into the Chaos, and became the Demons, and the Demons created the Shadow of the Foundation, which was Hell.<br /><br />And some Angels fell in, into the Foundation and the House, and they were the Grigori. And they were the Watchers of men, who were not of Heaven nor of Hell, and each watched over some thing. And they danced and moved the Spheres, which are the domains of all things, and thus they moved the House.<br /><br />And the Grigori danced and watched the world of men, and it was good in the eyes of God. And they were the Guardians of the boundaries between the House and the Foundation, and they had the stars for their fires, and they were many.<br /><br />And, in time, the Grigori who were the Sons (and also Daughters, for they were neither and both Man and Woman) saw the daughters and sons of Man, whom were mortals, and saw that they were beautiful. And the Grigori went among the mortals and made them their wives and husbands.<br /><br />And the children of the Watchers and the mortals were the Grigori, and they were men but more then men, and they were gifted with the dance of the Spheres and the birthright to walk the Foundation.<br /><br />And that was many ages ago, and that was how it started.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-39662097803272991172009-07-17T01:45:00.002-04:002009-07-17T01:58:02.695-04:00'59 Reasons To Go To Space (Or Hell)Young girls<br />Young girls<br />Ain't supposed to die on a friday morn<br />Aren't supposed to live and love<br />They really shouldn't even be born<br />Accidentally through society's shocks<br />They bring out nails and teeth or flee<br />And bring red blood upon me and you and me<br />I chase, I dream<br />I dream, I chase<br />But no one chases me<br />Or speaks to me with fire or force<br />Or passion or looks at me with might<br />If I make chase, I am the foe<br />And it is only wise to flee me<br />But hold back and they drift away<br />Leaving scars and wounds and pain all the same<br />And the music<br />The music<br />The music keeps me alive<br />While it reminds me of pain<br />And cuts me fresh<br />And wakes me up<br />I've got 59 reasons to<br />Fly away to another world<br />A brilliant alien realm in verdant<br />Greens and reds<br />Or a pale grey moon<br />Or a darkside<br />Of a moon<br />And I've got<br />59 reasons<br />To go to hell<br />For all the devils<br />Are here on earthHiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-904357041966555402009-06-28T15:21:00.002-04:002009-06-28T15:32:01.998-04:00Last NightLast night I dreamt a howling windy painful poem<br />And when I awoke I could not remember it<br />Except to say it had<br />Carl Solomon and Jacob Oliviera and Nelson Algrien<br />And was about<br />Painful screaming poets burning up with life<br />Lions in a cage of passion<br />And talent<br />And lovelorn love<br />Love<br />Love<br />And now I'm writing it's shadow<br />Here<br />Here<br />Three cheers for a morose ghost<br />Of a Poem<br />I'm writing it here<br />Without benefit of format or<br />Formal formations of<br />Words<br />No format<br />Reformat<br />Reformat my mind so I can start anew<br />Brand New mind<br />Brand New<br />Brand New<br />Brand Nubians and Public Enemies<br />And yes I remember the music of the city<br />The streets<br />The crowded bustling urbanities<br />Just as I remember the soul of the mountains<br />Folk music, flutes, guitars, warmth of life<br />Not electricty<br />I remember loud rebellious screaming fire punks<br />And soft autumn warmths of singer-songwriters<br />And I remember that music is a kind of poetry, too<br /><br />So I guess even if I don't remember<br />The Dream<br />The Poem<br />Of passion and fire burning us up<br />A lesson<br />A lesson<br />A lesson<br />Thrice learned is that<br />Music is a kind of poetry, tooHiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-2753199996270371662009-06-15T01:29:00.002-04:002009-06-15T01:34:04.378-04:00DirgeTeardrop rain<br />Flood the basement of my heart like an<br />Abstract hurricane<br />Empty days empty nights and an<br />Empty pain<br />Heres a dirge for the fallen and a dance for the<br />Loveless SlainHiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-60656120302324581112009-06-13T02:15:00.004-04:002009-06-13T02:20:11.060-04:00Three poems at Davol SquareThis is what it<br />is to be<br />alive<br /><br />To wonder if gnarled, twisted<br />trees far below are as well<br />alive<br /><br />Or Byzantian things, men acting<br />as gods and falsifying green<br />while gods walk as men<br />red bricks<br />glass<br />red pipes<br />glass<br /><br />Sunlight, all above<br />Is this what it is<br />to be<br />Alive?<br /><br />---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />What are you, or who,<br /> or once 'gain what<br />That dances, ephemeral,<br /> Just out of my sight?<br /><br />Who are you, so haunting<br />to dance in my dreams, and dare<br />me to speak<br />of ineffable things?<br /><br />As I called you to answer<br />unformable things, unspeakable things, unkowable<br />things - <br />Your feelings now flying<br />or dancing<br />Like birds without<br />Wings<br /><br />---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />Old Water Tower<br />Or something like it<br />Rusted Monolith, surely<br />out of use and<br />patio chairs on<br />a first story<br />roof<br /><br />and glass and brick<br />and plant and life<br />and people<br />walk and talk<br />and<br />hustle and bustle<br /><br />Signs of new life<br />haunting the slumbering bones<br />of a dying age.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-14238956886438215332009-06-13T02:11:00.002-04:002009-06-13T02:14:59.926-04:00Three short poems for three troubled lovesJ<br /><br />When Wind, as Wind is wont to do,<br />Picks up his icy and knife and cuts you through,<br />Stand fast, my friend, stand fast and true.<br /><br />E<br /><br />Blood cries to blood and wine tastes of wine;<br />Dance into the garden and drink of the vine;<br />And in the summer heat would you ever be mine?<br /><br />A<br /><br />I feel in words most honest longing,<br />Happiness, content, forgiveness of wronging,<br />As you walk in the glow of mockingbird's songing.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-62023293572307872112009-06-07T23:38:00.002-04:002009-06-08T00:21:53.880-04:00We were set apart"And when we were made we were set apart, and life is a test and I get bad marks." - Brand New<br /><br />Ours is the exile.<br />Ours is passion, madness, beauty, sorrow.<br />Ours is to be unusual, outside, strange, different.<br />Ours is to be so uniquely amazing and terribly alive that the world shies away from us - we, in turn, feel the world's pain.<br /><br />We are actors, artists, lovers, writers, poets.<br />We are, almost entirely, alone.<br />I hope we can be unalone, together.<br /><br />They've taken love from me. They've taken happiness and safety and peace, too.<br /><br />They took it all so I might suffer as they did, as they do.<br /><br />Now, they've taken even sorrow, and that pain.<br /><br />When I think of you, wonderful and beautiful and potentialful and lifeful, I think I can find that again.<br /><br />Will you remind me what it is to dream?<br /><br />---------<br /><br />Dedicated to EEM. Quack.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-39863546925272491432009-05-23T19:11:00.002-04:002009-05-23T19:17:54.566-04:00RainShe asked me to shop for her; my ankles, knees, elbows, hands ached so badly.<br /><br />Never less have I wanted to go.<br />Nevertheless, I went.<br /><br />As I walked out the door, it began to drip-drop upon my skin sharp and cool.<br />"Rain! Damnable rain! The damnable rain in all of Spain! Damn it down the drain! Not for all the tea in Spain would I walk in this rain!".<br /><br />I think those were my exact words - I don't know why I bothered to rhyme in such a mundane time.<br />Look, there's another hiding.<br /><br />But then, I recalled how you said you liked the rain. And I realized it wasn't so bad.<br /><br />The rain wasn't just getting me wet, you see...<br />...<br />...<br />...<br />It was cooling my anger, washing clean my consciousness, waking me from the sleep of drudgery, and... the pin-prick cuts of cool-hot water pierced me like tiny needles sowing together my fragile heart.<br /><br />I thought of you and hoped for the best.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-48484582047057552952009-05-18T22:15:00.003-04:002009-05-18T22:31:32.061-04:00Bleeding Heart - Apply Liberally<blockquote>I guess we met a couple <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bona</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">fide</span> angels,<br />But they all seemed kinda fat and fatigued.<br />Now we're trying to match the mouth to the screams,<br />To match the heads with their dreams.</blockquote><br />I'm not trying to call anyone fat... it's just the lyrics.<br />But I keep doing this. I meet someone I think is perfect. I <span style="font-style: italic;">know</span> is perfect. Beautiful, funny, smart.<br /><br />Generally amazing. And things seem to be going well. I actually start to believe that maybe they're interested in me. Maybe they like me.<br /><br />Maybe.<br /><br />Then... <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">bam</span>. They put up a wall, withdraw, disappear, or decide they hate my guts. For no apparent reason. And it scares me. It scares me because they're so wonderful and fragile and they deserve to be loved. And they shouldn't be hurt anymore - and they are.<br /><br />And so am I; I wonder what it feels like to be wanted. Desired. Cared for.<br />I wander and I wonder what it's like to not be alone.<br /><br /><blockquote>Excuses and half-truths and fortified wine,<br />Excuses and half-truths and fortified wine.<br />I know it's unlikely she'll ever be mine,<br />So I mostly just pray she don't die.</blockquote>HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-26637714219445783022009-04-28T11:33:00.002-04:002009-04-28T11:43:04.041-04:00Huddled MassesHuddled masses and and wretched refuse indeed. So many people, in the heat, often unwashed and / or oversized. The smell at times overwhelming.<br /><br />The rude youth, a stereotypical "ghetto" man with a sense of style, calls to a friend on the sidewalk - loud, obnoxious.<br /><br />Then, later... a woman gets on. No seats, the youth stands without hesitation.<br /><br />Sometimes people are dirty. Sometimes they're clean. Sometimes they're rude, and sometimes kind.<br /><br />But mostly? People are just people.<br /><br />-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />The heat and smell and dirt created a strange contrast with the beautiful, serene blossom shreds falling to the ground.<br /><br />I was reminded of the dichotomy of blood dripping off an ancestral blade on a background of sakura blooms - in the eastern style.<br /><br />I contemplated the ways of the samurai - the words of Hagakure - "A samurai should make all his decisions in the space of seven breaths.".<br /><br />When I got home, bolstered by my new resolve, I got only to six breaths... then I called her.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-39518275412976906892009-04-20T15:45:00.003-04:002009-04-20T15:56:10.629-04:00Stupid Useless LoveI hate the way you vanish when we talk - but I love it.<br />It's cute and endearing and scary and frustrating all at once.<br /><br />I love the way your hair frames your face.<br />I love the way we used to talk - and I hate that it seems like we don't really talk anymore, not like we used to.<br /><br />I hate the walls I feel between us - some natural, some man-made, and some (I'm sure) imagined only in my head.<br /><br />I hate that I can't get you out of my heart or head, that no one I meet or talk to or just see walking around... none of them get stuck with me the way you have.<br /><br />I love that I've met you, and I cherish every moment you're around...<br /><br />Sometimes, though, you just feel like punching someone and other times you wanna hug them, ya know?HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-75286392288129027522009-04-10T01:56:00.002-04:002009-04-10T02:01:28.857-04:00FascinationFor some time now, I've had a strange fascination with sex and sexuality - not actually <em>doing</em> anything, mind, as I've got no luck in that department, but <em>thinking.</em><br /><em></em><br />The vast array of sexual behavior amazes me. The way it interacts with history, the way people have and still do marginalize it and try to hide it. The way that people can be so easily defined by what they do, by even a small thing.<br /><br />The different things people will try, some of them quite stupid. All catch my attention.<br />I spent a half hour last night reading a blog. About condoms.<br />I think amatuer porn is wonderful. Erotica is better, even if it is crappily written.<br />I spent 25 minutes tonight reading about sexual slang. Words can be so interesting.<br /><br />I don't think I'm a pervert, but I'm... something. Now I just need to find a way to match my level of theory with my level of practice and I'll be golden!HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3551397926250903120.post-78478358762359733642009-04-10T00:46:00.002-04:002009-04-10T01:23:09.717-04:00Walking(This one's kinda long, but I like it. It's got the allusions and references I love so much. How many can you recognize? <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hah</span>... Also, it's helped me clear my mind. Read and enjoy, people of the world.)<br /><br />I went walking by the river and I called to some friends...<br />And as I walked through the city they met up with me one by one.<br /><br />First Johnny M came to see me, and he told me not to fall in love. He told me about the orange leaves hitting the ground and where to watch for snakes and worms. He told me about the evils of censorship, but the five-o put out an APB on him and he went and hid 'round the corner and I never saw him again - I heard his kidneys crapped him when he drank too much wine.<br /><br />So then I called up Nicky - his name was Leo but we called him Nicky - and he came and met me and told me 'bout the kingdom and rebellion and follies of the heart. He told me about his home, and he told me about war and he told me about peace... Martin and some Indian walked with us and heard Nicky's words... He told me about leaving his family, his money, his home - it hurt him, but he knew he had to. But he slipped on the ice by the river and fell in and by the time we fished him out his lungs were gone.<br /><br />(Marty and the Indian (I think his name was Moe) went off back home and left me all alone, but I heard they <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">woulda</span> made old Nicky proud.)<br /><br />Then my buddy Phil from years ago, I saw him on a corner. He told me there was no kingdom, told me 'bout the republic and how we need to work here and now. He told me not to be afraid of love, he told me 'bout marzipan. He said Johnny was wrong, and maybe Nicky too, but I don't think he hated 'em... Just didn't agree. He spoke to the kids and he spoke to the old folks, and he told us to make stories of our lives. 'course, he was a busy man, and he had to go home to finish his book.<br /><br />Towards the end of the night and the end of the river, as I came upon the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Narragansett</span> bay (where I heard <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">there'd</span> be some folks skinny-dipping, strange as it sounds), I realized I wasn't alone. Someone was <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">followin</span>' me, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">singin</span>' all rough and handsome. I couldn't recognize the voice, but the stories told me it was Finn... He told me what to celebrate, 'bout redemption and r<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">esurrection</span> and staying positive.<br /><br />I walked home past the townies and the hood rats and I knew that I couldn't be afraid of love, but I couldn't let it hurt me either. I'll never stop loving, but I can stop wanting.<br /><br />Johnny and Nicky told me not to love, and that clever kid - I think he said to love too much. But Phil, I think Phil had it right when he told me about two different parks and the rise of man. He reminded me of the flight of a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">woodpigeon</span> and talking two walks in two different cities.<br /><br />He reminded me that love is stronger than want.HiQKid (Alex)http://www.blogger.com/profile/14501947761902466609noreply@blogger.com0