I have no never-again, I have no always. In the sand
victory abandoned its footprints.
I am a poor man willing to love his fellow men.
I don't know who you are. I love you. I don't give away thorns,
and I don't sell them.
Maybe someone will know that I didn't weave crowns
to draw blood; that I fought against mockery;
that I did fill the high tide of my soul with the truth.
I repaid vileness with doves.
I have no never, because I was different —
was, am, will be. And in the name
of my ever-changing love I proclaim a purity.
Death is only the stone of oblivion.
I love you, on your lips I kiss happiness itself.
Let's gather firewood. We'll light a fire on the mountain.
I’m off today, it’s actually peculiar how it got so ☀ warm out. There’s really no pattern to weather now, it does its own thing. One week it might feel like an arctic blast from Canada, the next it feels like a heat wave and premature onset of spring. The patterns of my youth, as recorded by my numerous journals I’d kept were much more stricter and predictive, to a fault. I could pluck out a particular date on the calendar and tell you precisely what the weather would/should/ought be like on any given Sunday for reals.
6am : made breakfast. Here is said breakfast, not my usual. I’m mostly coffee and maybe a scone or a croissant kinda guy, followed by a cup of tea and then a second cup of joe.
6:45am : I started rewatching LOTR on Netflix, because they decided to sneak it in there. There’s really not much hardly at all to watch nowadays, and I’m kind of glad to be honest. It frees me up to being more creative, productive, and focused on life, projects, and intellectually titillating pursuits like writing of course.
6:50am : shower power. My shower routine is rather simple : wash with axe body soap, shampoo, conditioner, then I use a almond body scrub followed by an exfoliating cleanser. Just joking ! Heh heh whenever I swim over mundane details it reminds me of this scene out of American Psycho :
7am : I let stoops go pee in the alley, then feed him. New neighbor some whiteboy named Dominick in apartment 2B is taking a smoke break on the back porch, Stoops is sniffing his nether regions like a nosy dog is prone to do. Later I did a quick swifter sweep of my dojo, it was getting quite ingratiated with his loose hair throughout. I’m researching for a more effective yet economical brand of dogfood right now. I want something that’s nutritious and healthy. Hard to determine these days. I hear many crazy stories about bad dog food with a ton of useless junk in it.
7:30 – 8 am : I’ve been in a creative slump lately, though I really want to start penning out some mad poetry and a few chapters in a book I’m planning to get published someday. I needed a good workout so I hit T-25, my personal trainer ShaunT. Actually I tend to use xbox fitness evolved, a cool kinnect workout game but it ceased functioning entirely. I like T-25, you get a decent workout and the moves are more condensed and fun than his Insanity series.
Working out with ShaunT
8am : took stoops to my preferred park of choice nearby.
stoops, my canine pal
Sea of Strangers by Lang Leav
9:30am Bought some thingies on Amazon, spending a $50 gift card somebody had bequeathed me over Christmas. I mostly just bought Japanese style notebooks/journals/pen/and a poetry book called „Sea of Strangers“ by Lang Leav. I was curious because this girl is trending in the literary world so I wanted to see how she wrote and such. The cover looks rather chick flickish, but I do remember perusing some of her work at Barnes, and it seemed solid. Though I must say I didn’t actually care for her book covers that look like oldschool type books and too colorful and gimmicky. However, I do support asian artistes.
11:45 am : Lunch
Lunch : simple blt and some Progresso lentil soup, with sparkling water and ruffles. I don’t always eat something that looks like it was made for Iron Chef.
12:00 pm : cup of coffee. Browsing online, wanted to get this rug for my dojo, it’s pretty expensive. Made in Nepal, hand woven, wool and bamboo silk. Alas someday.
Something I can’t afford right now, someday maybe 🙂 a nice hand woven rug made in Nepal.
12 – 1 : reading „Journal Sparks“ for self entertaining purposes. It’s actually a fun book, something of a mashup between writing ideas for your journal and artschool 101. These are pretty fun sometimes, gives you something to do such as doodling and practicing creativity so that it becomes less of a dormant intellectual brainfart and more hands on.
1 – 2:30pm : I crashed, took a powernap. I dreamed I was having lunch at Hooters in Tokyo when several Yakuza were holding up the place, acting all gangsta. I took them out with my moves, and team Tokyo girls were cheering me on. Yes, I was having a guy moment here, the hero of my own story, who wins the day. Then just after, a group of very mean white boy jocks who hate asian guys came in as well, and started oogling the Japanese girls with „Hey baby, me love you long time!“. I told them to take a hike and they all surrounded me intent on teaching me a very vivid lesson, one I wouldn’t soon forget. Yet instead of a bloody massacre I went into bullet time. Fast forward I had them all laid out on the ground. “Don’t let me see you punks in here again, now scram, beat it!”
I must say I looked rather cool, my kung fu is excellent.
I was being a bum throughout the day, it’s a day off after all. Played chess on chess.com, browsed a bit, trying to yank some fresh poetics out of me. You can’t rush genius, son. It takes time, I have to deconstruct and reconstruct, I have to do research, and get into genius mode.
5:20pm : sushi for dinner, I haven’t had it in quite some time.
I’m riding the brown line from Albany Park to The Mart.
The ride itself is a bit meditative, everybody in my lcar is absorbed in their devices, you could hear a mouse fart. Sometimes, you do get the occasional person who feels the express need to express themselves and broadcast their conversations about nothing at all, actually. I idly wonder what would it be like to steal fragments of these intrusive conversations and piecemeal them into a sound byte, just for the sake of self entertainment. Then, I’m not that motivated to squander the energy in doing silly thingies like I once used to be, so interactive with my surrounding environment. In a world of digital distraction, reality does provide for cheap endless entertainment when one looks and observes the world around them.
The clocktower I would always hike to when I was a young pup.
When I pass this clock tower, I’m reminded of my youth. I would journey to Ravenswood avenue and hike along the metra tracks looking like one of the boys from the movie Stand by me, and this clock tower would be my stopping point. I used to think it was so terribly far from my home, and it was the most visible place you could see visually. It’s funny how some places are saturated by a moment of our own timelines, and we forget these things. Take them for granted, scarcely realizing that someday, we will look back and realize we were in those places, we lived a part of our existence in them, they symbolized a place in ourselves. I saw my young pup self, an imprint from my fractured memory hiking along, having fun being on an ‘adventure’, an intrepid urban adventurer looking to discover something lost or valuable in hidden places.
Right now I’m reading : Mortal Trash by Kim Addonizio. Sometimes I do dig her work, and a few poems I found were replete with allusions to past experiences and blunders, triumphs, and ennui from life. Of course these are powerful shaper’s of ourselves, since they were things we partook in, like a play and we the actors in the theater of minds. I realize this now, that I’m in a place I neither wish to be in, from, or associated with, but rather in some other world entirely. Yet I suppose not learning and knowing of such places helps, for when I arrive I don’t want to feel like I’ve arrived, or I’ve been there my entire life before even having stepped foot on its soil. Yet I didn’t find her work as ‘me’ as Richard Silken (who wrote ‘War of the Foxes’). There was a way in which he flowed and detailed his poems that resonated with me. It was clean, descriptive, and beautiful, a touch of melancholy and a smattering of cunning.
I ran stoops this morning at the park, he was quite happy. Lately it’s been too arctic cold to even venture much farther than I ordinarily would like. I was able to cast the ball yesterday as well so he’s going to sleep in good today while I’m at work. I see my friend Amra at The Mart now, she’s such a sweet Bosnian girl, and I made friends with her and her husband just from walking stoops at Eugene field so much. I also befriended my neighbors Angela and her son Chris, who sometimes dogsit stoops for me when I go on road trips. I took a liking to the kid, he’s an honor roll student and takes his studies seriously. I was mentoring him for a spell, until his moms tried making me his free tutor/babysitter. Funny how some people try to take a mile when you give them an inch. I wonder to myself what would happen if I asked them a favor or leaned on them expecting their help with this or that ? They might for a little while.
I gave the neighbors upstairs in unit 3B some last minute gifts. This sweet woman named Paris I gave a Japanese style notebook I got from Kinokuniya at Matsuwa marketplace, and her son a book : How to Draw Almost Anything. Small, neighborly gifts, I like to think that they enjoyed them. Every now and again, I like practicing random acts of niceness if only to brighten up somebodies existence. Restoration in humanity starts with giving, not always receiving and waiting for others to initiate life.
I have volumes of journals, sketchbooks, notebooks that are dying for me to bleed ink all over the blank pages. These days I seem to be too busy, preoccupied, I have to exhaust myself to the fullest just to make it another day. My world is such like a finely tuned precision orchestra, one wrong wave from the conductor can send my performance into full disaster mode, and unlike in IT there’s no disaster recovery from that. One instrument fails, they all do, as one. Sync or swim.