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| Sunday, August 29, 2004 |
| I'm Giving this to You |
| posted @ 02:42:00 MDT by bryn |
| C G D G B D Fuck E A D G B E |
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| You want fries with that? |
| posted @ 02:08:00 MDT by bryn |
| http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&lr=&ie=UTF-8&c2coff=1&oi=defmore&q=define:inference |
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| Saturday, August 28, 2004 |
| The Perfection that is Pinball |
| posted @ 02:12:00 MDT by bryn |
| Matter, Energy, Action, Reaction, Gravity, Momentum, Mass, Inertia, Kinetic and Potential Energy, Constants, Variables, some stupid dope with hope of fucking with the Universe... That one beautiful place. It's like that sweet spot, the lines, well that one line, the one that starts at a bare shoulder and smoothes slowly up the left side of the neck, the flower... the lasting hope of a kiss. |
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| Friday, August 27, 2004 |
| All for Only One Moment's Hope are We |
| posted @ 00:33:00 MDT by bryn |
| So when does it end? Tomorrow? Not that candy-ass tomorrow when the sun comes up - the one when it doesn't. The one that matters. Another day of dirty slutdom, scurrying about the ratty asphalt river maze, dying at seething angry red lights whose penalties only matter to the inferior players of the game who are fooled into only paying true attention to the other unheard of and unheard from figures unfigured, the least significant digits of the formulaic, subjective summation of zero. Defiled in pointless concert and toyed with - as distraction from the carrying back of spoils to the glass-encased elevator-served anthills made of loveless, worthless, unforgiving cash - incapable of delivering a single worthwhile moment of meaning. More polished pebbles for the kings of the shiny stones whose power lies in the pretty rocks. Love costs nothing, yet is everything. |
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| Sunday, August 22, 2004 |
| So if you really wanted to know |
| posted @ 15:08:00 MDT by bryn |
| I got two messages about something I posted recently which is two more than I usually get so I figured I should address them. I don't claim to be right or wrong, this is just a place where I sound off and get things out that just need to get out. They're whatever they are and sometimes they're many things rolled into one, not just one person or event. Sometimes it's a bit nuts but I don't believe in filtering feelings and ideas given the right venue. I don't delete things once I post them, it's just this thing about being honest about the energy, ideas, whatever that you put out into the world. Have I wanted to? Yes. I even make myself cringe sometimes but at least I can say it's pure. Maybe pure crap, maybe pure gold, but it's the direct, true, and honest feed. No bullshit, no fear. So that said... I appreciate everyone's opinion and view and even when someone calls me on something, as long as they're being real and especially if I think their heart is in the right place. I've seen a pattern lately that really bothers me. Maybe it's this outdated sense of honor I have but I don't understand how some guys just feel nothing about hitting on a woman in the workplace in an almost captive situation. There's little more uncouth. It's even worse when they know already how bad it can be from the same side of the fence. I used to work at a few different restaurants and it's especially bad in a situation like a service industry where there's such direct interaction in close quarters and hourly pressures. I've seen how tough it can be on people. Every once in a while it's different, two people just meet that way, but it's mutual and it goes somewhere else. But unless you're a complete ass you know when it's not right. However, that's only part of what's bugging me. I've seen situations recently where sexual harassment is used as a tool by women to stave off unwanted advances or even get people removed while not doing anything when they think the guy is cute. I actually overheard a conversation between two girls where the one was talking about how her manager was making advances and lewd innuendoes. The next thing out of her mouth really blew me away: "Now if it was [PERSON], I'd have no problem, he's hot." The two of them just giggled (but with an almost evil cackle) and I just kind of sat there, stunned. They talked more about how they wanted to get rid of the other guy and how "gross" he was, yet how the "cute" guy had spanked her on the butt but he was just "goofing around" and it was somehow just okay. God damned hypocritical it is. Some people just seem to get a free pass. Just so there's no misunderstanding I'm not saying people should be allowed, quite the opposite. Don't be an enabler, don't let this stuff go unchecked. These guys are predators and they think it's just "okay". In fact they've probably been living in an almost protected bubble as people just let it slide with them for so long. Just because you don't mind it because you think they're cute or only joking around doesn't mean that the next woman will. She may be embarrassed, hurt, or even suffer setbacks in her career. Yeah, maybe I'm weird, maybe I'm a holdover from some other age, but it really burns me - especially when you know someone should know better. |
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| In Case you're Searching |
| posted @ 09:46:00 MDT by bryn |
| I've found the repository for all of the secrets of the universe. They're in a pinball machine. There's nothing that it can't tell you. |
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| Being Made a Fool |
| posted @ 05:52:00 MDT by bryn |
| I'm sorry I wasn't another asshole. I'm sorry I didn't spank your ass in front of your coworkers and say "Oh, did you like that?" I'm sorry I didn't say "I know I have a girlfriend and you have a boyfriend but..." I'm sorry I didn't molest you in your workplace. I'm sorry I have respect for people. I'm sorry I have an honor code. I'm sorry I thought you were different. I'm sorry it took me a two hour walk in the rain to figure out how sorry I am. I'm sorry I have to wake up tomorrow without that hope I had that maybe there was something better. I'm sorry I just opened up this part of myself. I'm sorry I had that dream about the rocking chair, the cradle, the white robe, your hand on my cheek, and the kiss that sat me up in mid sleep, trying to wrap my arms around thin air. I'm sorry I believed again. |
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| Saturday, August 21, 2004 |
| Edumacationalism |
| posted @ 02:45:00 MDT by bryn |
| Somehow it's perfect, like seeing the sunrise and knowing sweet sleep owes you a day or two of quality, listless, unadulterated, dirty sheeted, naked, simple, rolling away from the bad lighted evil window, aimless, quality pillow time. There's hope in a heart. |
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| Friday, August 20, 2004 |
| The Lathe Peels |
| posted @ 02:25:00 MDT by bryn |
| I want more than gravity. I want more than presence. I need more than promise. I see more than surface. I live more but less than tomorrow. I hate the word "I" |
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| Tuesday, August 17, 2004 |
| Folklore |
| posted @ 02:43:00 MDT by bryn |
| Just because you're there it doesn't make you "here." Some of us are just running the spotlight on one end of the closed balcony and staring at the pretty girl on the other side of the theatre, running hers. |
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| Saturday, August 14, 2004 |
| Acid, Base, Neutral, or Other |
| posted @ 02:56:00 MDT by bryn |
| Good question. |
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| Monday, August 9, 2004 |
| One Big Should Have |
| posted @ 01:27:00 MDT by bryn |
| Every so often, I remember something - something that I should have done, not done, or done differently. Regret is never a good thing and there are some who think that the worst possible thing you can do with your life is have regrets. But, as with bad paperback novels, what do you do with them once you've got them? Maybe you can learn from them and share them so others might. Maybe you just bitch about them to random strangers. There's one big one on my list that I've never quite shaken. In fact, I think it's even led to a pattern that I'm living with now. Well, living is probably being generous. Existing is more like it. That one night, years ago, in front of a fake fireplace, the most real thing I had found in my life yet came to a pivotal moment and was suddenly surreal. "So, do you ever think about you and me?" "Yeah, I do." There was what seemed like a pause between the question and response... At least half a dozen heated, chest-pounding heartbeats. I can't even remember which one of us asked because it was just one of those moments where the embering spirits of two people meet head-on without warning after swirling around the same fire, close to the heat for so long but not close enough. I can still see her eyes and the noticeably demure, insecure posture that washed over her, sitting upright on the floor, her back against the arm of an easy chair, in a soft, plaid flannel shirt, her hands, palms pressed together between her thighs, a woman's shape in men's faded jeans, head ever so slightly tilted in the warm glow. That was the moment, the one I so much find myself living again and again. I fucked that up so perfectly. If I had one chance to change a turning point in my life, I would go right back to that one without hesitation. I would jump right into myself as that second emerged, and I would kiss her for every following second I could. I know exactly how I would do it, even down to how I would place my hand right at the back of her head, just at the top of her neck, letting her ponytailed hair fall between my first and second fingers, my thumb just in front of her ear as I would lean into her and drink from a dream on her lips, slowly. Very slowly. How could I not get it? She had showed up completely out of the blue, just wanted - maybe even needed - to see me. Instead of anything, I sat there like a moron and let it all escape like an invisible breeze. Now the moment is like a deep, soaking cold that I can't shake after being caught out in a heavy autumn rain. Almost two years before I had walked into the copy and print store she was working at to run off a stack of show posters for a band I was in. I was instantly taken by her. Her long, just the dark side of amber hair fell down into the small of her back where her tanned skin reappeared at the bottom of a mustard gold belly shirt just long enough to make it down to her hip hugging jeans suspended by a black leather belt with square silver studs and a silver oval belt buckle that was oversized on her petite frame. It was one of those instantly embracing meetings where everything just falls into place and even the words drop into theirs. It was like being found when you're lost. Her name was Mindy. Had never met one, haven't met one since. The name was unique too. Soon enough, I was finding any reason I could to need something copied. I suddenly had a resume and business cards even though I had not a single excuse to have either. Thankfully, this only went on for a brief time. I don't remember how, but we started hanging out together yet the only possible thing that could keep it from being perfect was: She had a boyfriend... Her first in every way, storybook high school sweethearts. How do you compete - no, not even that - just even mess with that. As a romantic, you just want to believe that such things are possible and real. It's like fucking with hope itself. So I just resigned myself to being a friend and listening to every innermost feeling and thought she had, even the ones about him. Two years, admiring from afar, but not far enough, I was in a sweet hell. At least it gave me faith that there might be someone like that for me. Until she showed up that night, just out of the blue, just to see me. She had broken up with her boyfriend and she wanted to see me. Me. And I just sat there like a moron. |
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| Saturday, August 7, 2004 |
| Lessons Learned Not |
| posted @ 02:17:00 MDT by bryn |
| The only foolish student is the pupil of a single teacher. Even a perfect circle is only another lie labeled as concept. |
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