update on the elbow
i still cant feel part of it.
i wonder what happened.
29 August 2008
28 August 2008
i have a goal this week starting today. right now. for one week i will not get into an argument about anything. i will not insult anyone. and i will not say i hate or dislike anyone. for one week. starting right now, 6:58 pm thursday... august... umm... 28? yeah 28.
this is a personal goal to ween myself off of being a bitter asshole. which i know i may or may not be from time to time.
i cant feel part of my elbow. im not sure if this is from sitting at this desk in the library for too long or if it has been an ongoing thing. obviously it could just be the desk, but i dont really rest my elbows when im typing or browsing and i have somewhat decent posture at the computer. im not sure. these things. i still cant feel the right side of my left knee from when i crashed mid june. which i was completely sober at the time, just hit some wet pavement etc. i wonder how much more of me will be completely numb in the next decade. often i sit on the toilet playing hearts and or solitaire until my butt cheeks go numb. anthony tells me this is not good for my colon but i still do it.
since wes has been gone i have been sleeping on the floor in the living room with all the windows open and the ac off. i really like the idea of living alone.
this is a personal goal to ween myself off of being a bitter asshole. which i know i may or may not be from time to time.
i cant feel part of my elbow. im not sure if this is from sitting at this desk in the library for too long or if it has been an ongoing thing. obviously it could just be the desk, but i dont really rest my elbows when im typing or browsing and i have somewhat decent posture at the computer. im not sure. these things. i still cant feel the right side of my left knee from when i crashed mid june. which i was completely sober at the time, just hit some wet pavement etc. i wonder how much more of me will be completely numb in the next decade. often i sit on the toilet playing hearts and or solitaire until my butt cheeks go numb. anthony tells me this is not good for my colon but i still do it.
since wes has been gone i have been sleeping on the floor in the living room with all the windows open and the ac off. i really like the idea of living alone.
sometimes i hear lyrics better than other times
I have lightning
If the stars dry out to guide me
I have soft clay
To knit my bones astride
What a miracle they say
Dark clouds gather
Velvet holes
Gaping wide oh
And they pour it down
And they sing to me
Of wonders
Unseen
Like clouds that rise
From the sea, oh
And I'm sorry
I'm so sorry
That I missed the point
Of this pageantry
But I'm grateful
That you love me
If the stars dry out to guide me
I have soft clay
To knit my bones astride
What a miracle they say
Dark clouds gather
Velvet holes
Gaping wide oh
And they pour it down
And they sing to me
Of wonders
Unseen
Like clouds that rise
From the sea, oh
And I'm sorry
I'm so sorry
That I missed the point
Of this pageantry
But I'm grateful
That you love me
shallow souls silo sift
milky west foam
easy to walk on waters
slippery 'not so solid' silty rock
'nt never raised one hand
from the dead
who smellin' of sulfur
'n tellin' me lies of
what comin' round those tracks
one ear down
to the iron
(for years and years on repeatin')
not a damn sound
(for ever and ever 'men)
milky west foam
easy to walk on waters
slippery 'not so solid' silty rock
'nt never raised one hand
from the dead
who smellin' of sulfur
'n tellin' me lies of
what comin' round those tracks
one ear down
to the iron
(for years and years on repeatin')
not a damn sound
(for ever and ever 'men)
26 August 2008
i like wearing my red shorts. its enjoyable to be a person that people look at and are omg look at those tiny red shorts. im not a fan of long shorts. like my tiny red ones. i like my legs. i dont think theres really anything special about them but i enjoy them. sometimes- wait hold on
sometimes i enjoy running in to people i know and chatting. although i dont really like chatting. i do. i kind of do. it makes me feel thought about maybe. remembered. i wonder if thats really important. my main goal in life is for... oh never mind.
sometimes i enjoy running in to people i know and chatting. although i dont really like chatting. i do. i kind of do. it makes me feel thought about maybe. remembered. i wonder if thats really important. my main goal in life is for... oh never mind.
23 August 2008
sure am- or once had
to be a bison
but not a buffa-
long so many
train rides i dont really
take but should
eventually i
might stampede or just
shout past the horns
and the hairy hairy
backs of dakota
not nearly a place to
raise
not even a voice
but whimper land-
ho for hours and hours
at the tops of topped
off lungs i bellow
as only a bison
would roam if it
couldnt go home
to be a bison
but not a buffa-
long so many
train rides i dont really
take but should
eventually i
might stampede or just
shout past the horns
and the hairy hairy
backs of dakota
not nearly a place to
raise
not even a voice
but whimper land-
ho for hours and hours
at the tops of topped
off lungs i bellow
as only a bison
would roam if it
couldnt go home
21 August 2008
Would that the structure brave, the manifold music I build,
Bidding my organ obey, calling its keys to their work,
Claiming each slave of the sound, at a touch, as when Solomon willed
Armies of angels that soar, legions of demons that lurk,
Man, brute, reptile, fly,--alien of end and of aim,
Adverse, each from the other heaven-high, hell-deep removed,--
Should rush into sight at once as he named the ineffable Name,
And pile him a palace straight, to pleasure the princess he loved!
Would it might tarry like his, the beautiful building of mine,
This which my keys in a crowd pressed and importuned to raise!
Ah, one and all, how they helped, would dispart now and now combine,
Zealous to hasten the work, heighten their master his praise!
And one would bury his brow with a blind plunge down to hell,
Burrow awhile and build, broad on the roots of things,
Then up again swim into sight, having based me my palace well,
Founded it, fearless of flame, flat on the nether springs.
And another would mount and march, like the excellent minion he was,
Ay, another and yet another, one crowd but with many a crest,
Raising my rampired walls of gold as transparent as glass,
Eager to do and die, yield each his place to the rest:
For higher still and higher (as a runner tips with fire,
When a great illumination surprises a festal night--
Outlining round and round Rome's dome from space to spire)
Up, the pinnacled glory reached, and the pride of my soul was in sight.
In sight? Not half! for it seemed, it was certain, to match man's birth,
Nature in turn conceived, obeying an impulse as I;
And the emulous heaven yearned down, made effort to reach the earth,
As the earth had done her best, in my passion, to scale the sky:
Novel splendours burst forth, grew familiar and dwelt with mine,
Not a point nor peak but found and fixed its wandering star;
Meteor-moons, balls of blaze: and they did not pale nor pine,
For earth had attained to heaven, there was no more near nor far.
Nay more; for there wanted not who walked in the glare and glow,
Presences plain in the place; or, fresh from the Protoplast,
Furnished for ages to come, when a kindlier wind should blow,
Lured now to begin and live, in a house to their liking at last;
Or else the wonderful Dead who have passed through the body and gone,
But were back once more to breathe in an old world worth their new:
What never had been, was now; what was, as it shall be anon;
And what is,--shall I say, matched both? for I was made perfect too.
All through my keys that gave their sounds to a wish of my soul,
All through my soul that praised as its wish flowed visibly forth,
All through music and me! For think, had I painted the whole,
Why, there it had stood, to see, nor the process so wonder-worth:
Had I written the same, made verse--still, effect proceeds from cause,
Ye know why the forms are fair, ye hear how the tale is told;
It is all triumphant art, but art in obedience to laws,
Painter and poet are proud in the artist-list enrolled:--
But here is the finger of God, a flash of the will that can,
Existent behind all laws, that made them and, lo, they are!
And I know not if, save in this, such gift be allowed to man,
That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth sound, but a star.
Consider it well: each tone of our scale in itself is nought;
It is everywhere in the world--loud, soft, and all is said:
Give it to me to use! I mix it with two in my thought:
And, there! Ye have heard and seen: consider and bow the head!
Well, it is gone at last, the palace of music I reared;
Gone! and the good tears start, the praises that come too slow;
For one is assured at first, one scarce can say that he feared,
That he even gave it a thought, the gone thing was to go.
Never to be again! But many more of the kind
As good, nay, better, perchance: is this your comfort to me?
To me, who must be saved because I cling with my mind
To the same, same self, same love, same God: ay, what was, shall be.
Therefore to whom turn I but to thee, the ineffable Name?
Builder and maker, thou, of houses not made with hands!
What, have fear of change from thee who art ever the same?
Doubt that thy power can fill the heart that thy power expands?
There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before;
The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound;
What was good shall be good, with, for evil, so much good more;
On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round.
All we have willed or hoped or dreamed of good shall exist;
Not its semblance, but itself; no beauty, nor good, nor power
Whose voice has gone forth, but each survives for the melodist
When eternity affirms the conception of an hour.
The high that proved too high, the heroic for earth too hard,
The passion that left the ground to lose itself in the sky,
Are music sent up to God by the lover and the bard;
Enough that he heard it once: we shall hear it by and by.
And what is our failure here but a triumph's evidence
For the fulness of the days? Have we withered or agonized?
Why else was the pause prolonged but that singing might issue thence?
Why rushed the discords in, but that harmony should be prized?
Sorrow is hard to bear, and doubt is slow to clear,
Each sufferer says his say, his scheme of the weal and woe:
But God has a few of us whom he whispers in the ear;
The rest may reason and welcome; 'tis we musicians know.
Well, it is earth with me; silence resumes her reign:
I will be patient and proud, and soberly acquiesce.
Give me the keys. I feel for the common chord again,
Sliding by semitones till I sink to the minor,--yes,
And I blunt it into a ninth, and I stand on alien ground,
Surveying awhile the heights I rolled from into the deep;
Which, hark, I have dared and done, for my resting-place is found,
The C Major of this life: so, now I will try to sleep.
Bidding my organ obey, calling its keys to their work,
Claiming each slave of the sound, at a touch, as when Solomon willed
Armies of angels that soar, legions of demons that lurk,
Man, brute, reptile, fly,--alien of end and of aim,
Adverse, each from the other heaven-high, hell-deep removed,--
Should rush into sight at once as he named the ineffable Name,
And pile him a palace straight, to pleasure the princess he loved!
Would it might tarry like his, the beautiful building of mine,
This which my keys in a crowd pressed and importuned to raise!
Ah, one and all, how they helped, would dispart now and now combine,
Zealous to hasten the work, heighten their master his praise!
And one would bury his brow with a blind plunge down to hell,
Burrow awhile and build, broad on the roots of things,
Then up again swim into sight, having based me my palace well,
Founded it, fearless of flame, flat on the nether springs.
And another would mount and march, like the excellent minion he was,
Ay, another and yet another, one crowd but with many a crest,
Raising my rampired walls of gold as transparent as glass,
Eager to do and die, yield each his place to the rest:
For higher still and higher (as a runner tips with fire,
When a great illumination surprises a festal night--
Outlining round and round Rome's dome from space to spire)
Up, the pinnacled glory reached, and the pride of my soul was in sight.
In sight? Not half! for it seemed, it was certain, to match man's birth,
Nature in turn conceived, obeying an impulse as I;
And the emulous heaven yearned down, made effort to reach the earth,
As the earth had done her best, in my passion, to scale the sky:
Novel splendours burst forth, grew familiar and dwelt with mine,
Not a point nor peak but found and fixed its wandering star;
Meteor-moons, balls of blaze: and they did not pale nor pine,
For earth had attained to heaven, there was no more near nor far.
Nay more; for there wanted not who walked in the glare and glow,
Presences plain in the place; or, fresh from the Protoplast,
Furnished for ages to come, when a kindlier wind should blow,
Lured now to begin and live, in a house to their liking at last;
Or else the wonderful Dead who have passed through the body and gone,
But were back once more to breathe in an old world worth their new:
What never had been, was now; what was, as it shall be anon;
And what is,--shall I say, matched both? for I was made perfect too.
All through my keys that gave their sounds to a wish of my soul,
All through my soul that praised as its wish flowed visibly forth,
All through music and me! For think, had I painted the whole,
Why, there it had stood, to see, nor the process so wonder-worth:
Had I written the same, made verse--still, effect proceeds from cause,
Ye know why the forms are fair, ye hear how the tale is told;
It is all triumphant art, but art in obedience to laws,
Painter and poet are proud in the artist-list enrolled:--
But here is the finger of God, a flash of the will that can,
Existent behind all laws, that made them and, lo, they are!
And I know not if, save in this, such gift be allowed to man,
That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth sound, but a star.
Consider it well: each tone of our scale in itself is nought;
It is everywhere in the world--loud, soft, and all is said:
Give it to me to use! I mix it with two in my thought:
And, there! Ye have heard and seen: consider and bow the head!
Well, it is gone at last, the palace of music I reared;
Gone! and the good tears start, the praises that come too slow;
For one is assured at first, one scarce can say that he feared,
That he even gave it a thought, the gone thing was to go.
Never to be again! But many more of the kind
As good, nay, better, perchance: is this your comfort to me?
To me, who must be saved because I cling with my mind
To the same, same self, same love, same God: ay, what was, shall be.
Therefore to whom turn I but to thee, the ineffable Name?
Builder and maker, thou, of houses not made with hands!
What, have fear of change from thee who art ever the same?
Doubt that thy power can fill the heart that thy power expands?
There shall never be one lost good! What was, shall live as before;
The evil is null, is nought, is silence implying sound;
What was good shall be good, with, for evil, so much good more;
On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round.
All we have willed or hoped or dreamed of good shall exist;
Not its semblance, but itself; no beauty, nor good, nor power
Whose voice has gone forth, but each survives for the melodist
When eternity affirms the conception of an hour.
The high that proved too high, the heroic for earth too hard,
The passion that left the ground to lose itself in the sky,
Are music sent up to God by the lover and the bard;
Enough that he heard it once: we shall hear it by and by.
And what is our failure here but a triumph's evidence
For the fulness of the days? Have we withered or agonized?
Why else was the pause prolonged but that singing might issue thence?
Why rushed the discords in, but that harmony should be prized?
Sorrow is hard to bear, and doubt is slow to clear,
Each sufferer says his say, his scheme of the weal and woe:
But God has a few of us whom he whispers in the ear;
The rest may reason and welcome; 'tis we musicians know.
Well, it is earth with me; silence resumes her reign:
I will be patient and proud, and soberly acquiesce.
Give me the keys. I feel for the common chord again,
Sliding by semitones till I sink to the minor,--yes,
And I blunt it into a ninth, and I stand on alien ground,
Surveying awhile the heights I rolled from into the deep;
Which, hark, I have dared and done, for my resting-place is found,
The C Major of this life: so, now I will try to sleep.
20 August 2008
i have made some mistakes. i think in wrong directions and dont-- well. there are things - and then there are things. i am dealing with the latter. i bought a new pair of pants. very tight. jc penny (umm whats it called) the place where you have cows. cows. i dunno. they are cow hand jeans. or some sort of pant. the my morning jacket show was pretty good. i had a really good time. too bad drinks were 6 dollars a pop. and too bad i didnt mind spending that much. and by pop i dont mean soda although there was way too much soda in the drinks so i switched to 5 dollar red stripes, which in the end was a better deal than 6 dollars for a shot and a can of pepsi. these two guys i had a class with (beat poets and such) well i started this the wrong way, i saw these two guys and approached them in between songs and talked to them for a brief moment about our class and what have you. i felt like a dumb drunk person so i walked off. after the concert they came up to our car and invited me to come to their apt above the antiquarium when ever i was in omaha again. pretty interesting. i dont recall the last time i was ever invited to hang out with anyone based on an initial meeting. maybe my
12 August 2008
so i have been having all these thoughts on ideas of things that i think about/about disappearing with no trace or maybe traces but tricky traces. there are things like getting a new phone number and not really telling anyone what it is. changing names or changing names. im making this sound stupid so it sounds stupid. when i say i might change my name it seems the common reaction is that its a stupid idea. i dont see why. why should i feel confined to the person i am based on a name that was given to me before i could argue for something else. and the last name. family ties really dont seem all that important to anyone in my family on a surface level so why would a name as the most surface of surfaces be important. that people know i am related to my uncle bill or that i kind of look like uncle rick. his name is rick. i think. see i really dont know my own family that well. i was asked to go to a wedding for a cousin that i have no idea what his name is. ben i think. ben is not a good name, i would change it. then there is grad school which i assume i might actually go to eventually. i was thinking of getting in and not actually telling anyone and then moving. with my new name and new phone number unlisted i would virtually disappear i think. that would be pretty fascinating. but again there are people who would just say thats stupid. some people might say because so many say its stupid that its cool in some romantic disappearing act bull crap. i dont know. i just think its a good idea. but then again i rarely have good ideas especially the ideas that come to fruition, or technically never come to fruition but maybe do. hmm. the thing with the name changing is that i dont know if i want to be in full control of my name because that employs too much inward ego narcisisism and the like. plus i dont want to take up one of the many kewl names that i would like to name all of my children, some 15 bastardized mini me's.
11 August 2008
06 August 2008
04 August 2008
places of uninterest
the isles (pub) or whatever. terrible bar. average food. overpriced beer. we stopped there after bike church yesterday and i had breaded mushrooms which were your average breaded mushrooms, not too bad, not too overpriced, that wasnt the issue. the issue was the beer pricing. all domestics, no matter bottle or can, are THREE DOLLARS A PIECE. so if you get a can (or two) of PBR they will cost you 3 dollars a pop. THREE DOLLARS FOR A CAN OF PBR. im glad i only had two but still, 6 dollars for two pbrs. you can get a 12 pack of pbrs for 6 dollars. GIVE ME A BREAK HAVELOCK. also in that same vein, i went to EL TORO recently, same place as all those other mexican restaurants in lincoln, le mexicana, mazatlan, and the other one which i forget. anyway, i like the food and everything, and the margaritas but i was charged (once again) THREE DOLLARS FOR A SIDE OF GUAC. THREE DOLLARS FOR A SIDE OF SAUCE THAT I JUST WANTED A LITTLE BIT ON MY BURRITO. good grief.
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