23 January 2011
I'm a Rocket, Man.
This is the pack I've ran with the longest; my sister, my Azeri, and my Nerdy-Whirl. We were formed in Senior year Physics class, sitting at the front table because of Aydan's terrible eyesight. She's a beautiful foreign perfectionist, prone to spells in which she threatens to suicide. We never believe her. Heather, I went to kindergarten with her, then we met back up in high school. She has this wonderfully fanciful side to her, with all of her math and science smarts, and she is one of the most fearless people I know. Hypnosis? She's got the book. Vivid dreaming? Yeah, she's tried it. Oh, and spider season? That might be her favorite time of year. Kylie is my twin, the one who always gets my jokes.
We've stood in the rain together, singing and dancing, and looking at the town lights from Heather's hill. We share Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte, the characters acting as stand-ins for Aydan and myself, the ones who haven't had a boyfriend. And now I use them as substitutes for Heather and Aydan, gone to different colleges. When Heath is in town, we always pick right back up where we left off, going out for coffee and talking about every little thing. In fact, Heather has her own blog, still with that new blog smell, that I check religiously (http://thorachu.tumblr.com/). Aydan, she has my heart with her in Dubai, even though we don't get to talk much. Before she left Ontario to fly back to Azerbaijan, we all went to the mall. Aydan was close to a melt down, needing a new carry on bag, and not being able to find one. One of my favorite memories is picking out her bag with her, just the two of us.
I’ve missed your lovely face smiling
and round, your dark hair lightening my moods.
my hand is empty
without yours.
Until you return, the ache
will keep, fresh and cold in the ice box,
shoved deep behind
cartons of double fudge
and cookie dough.
I stand in the rain talking
to your empty form as
my dark hair soaks
and clings. my teeth chatter
and gossip, describe,
worry the beads of our life.
I picture you reading my
damp spotted letter in a red sun
dress at a window warm and beaming.
I do not mean to make
you sad. Laugh so that I may
hear you
six thousand eighty one miles away.
We've stood in the rain together, singing and dancing, and looking at the town lights from Heather's hill. We share Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte, the characters acting as stand-ins for Aydan and myself, the ones who haven't had a boyfriend. And now I use them as substitutes for Heather and Aydan, gone to different colleges. When Heath is in town, we always pick right back up where we left off, going out for coffee and talking about every little thing. In fact, Heather has her own blog, still with that new blog smell, that I check religiously (http://thorachu.tumblr.com/). Aydan, she has my heart with her in Dubai, even though we don't get to talk much. Before she left Ontario to fly back to Azerbaijan, we all went to the mall. Aydan was close to a melt down, needing a new carry on bag, and not being able to find one. One of my favorite memories is picking out her bag with her, just the two of us.
So, these are my friends. My dear, dear friends. Last year, first college year, I wrote a poem for Aydan in my Creative Writing class. A little cheesy? Why, yes. But she liked it.
To Aydan--
sweet friend I’ve missed your lovely face smiling
and round, your dark hair lightening my moods.
my hand is empty
without yours.
Until you return, the ache
will keep, fresh and cold in the ice box,
shoved deep behind
cartons of double fudge
and cookie dough.
I stand in the rain talking
to your empty form as
my dark hair soaks
and clings. my teeth chatter
and gossip, describe,
worry the beads of our life.
I picture you reading my
damp spotted letter in a red sun
dress at a window warm and beaming.
I do not mean to make
you sad. Laugh so that I may
hear you
six thousand eighty one miles away.
21 January 2011
There We Are. Where Are We?
I make films. And try to write, things like poetry, short stories, novellas. Much of what I write I tends to be at least semi autobiographical, standing strongly on Modernists and Beats. I like donuts, a lot.
My sister has a blog, Sundried Sundries, where she is nearing the end of a 30 Day Challenge. Rather than reiterating the title, I prefer to refer to this journey as The "There We Are; Where Are We?" Challenge, borrowing a quote from the film The Extra Man. With three more facts about myself, Day One of the Challenge will be complete. Speaking of The Extra Man, that odd type of film is one of creative aspirations. Similarly, I aim to become proficient in Koine Greek. And just once, I would like to be really proud of my own accomplishments.
So, there we are. Ten facts about me, and finished with day one.
Where are we?
My sister has a blog, Sundried Sundries, where she is nearing the end of a 30 Day Challenge. Rather than reiterating the title, I prefer to refer to this journey as The "There We Are; Where Are We?" Challenge, borrowing a quote from the film The Extra Man. With three more facts about myself, Day One of the Challenge will be complete. Speaking of The Extra Man, that odd type of film is one of creative aspirations. Similarly, I aim to become proficient in Koine Greek. And just once, I would like to be really proud of my own accomplishments.
So, there we are. Ten facts about me, and finished with day one.
Where are we?
17 January 2011
On Studying Greek by the Light of the Silvery Moon
Sister: Why did we skip the first part of Mark?
Me: Maybe it was boring.
Sister: I think Jesus just called "douche" on you.
Me: Maybe it was boring.
Sister: I think Jesus just called "douche" on you.
14 December 2010
Invoking the Muse on the Eve of a Final
"Ah, my dear God! though I am clean forgot,
Let me not love thee, if I love thee not."
-George Herbert, Affliction I
"Batter my heart, three-personed God...Take me to you, imprison me, for I,Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me."-John Donne, Holy Sonnet 14
05 December 2010
Fine Art
Song: "I Want You So Bad I Can't Breathe" OK GO
Art Work: "Marriage a la Mode" William Hogarth
Art Work: "Marriage a la Mode" William Hogarth
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