The Best Thing I've Ever Written

Greetings, boys, girls, and Gagas!

Today I had to hand in my final portfolio for poetry class, which included a brand new poem that my Professor will read for the first time, only one time. This is what I wrote, and I must say I am rather proud of it:



Silence.

I got high when I first saw you, right away I started panickin’,
Then everything was silent. My heart froze like a mannequin

And I became your plastic flesh, wearing all your outfits.
I succumbed to your abuse. I became your Auschwitz.

But I was never anguished, living by your rule.
I lived for that desire, I ached to be your tool!

But you could never have it… breathing my every breath.
Having me was Heaven, loving me was death.

Killing me was golden, that’s what you told your ladies…
And even though I never sinned, I’ll still wait for you in Hades.

My Sestina Poem For My Poetry Final

For those who don't know, a sestina is a type of poem where you have six six-line stanzas, where the end words are repeated in a certain order in each one... and the seventh stanza is 3 lines, with those words being in the middle and end of the line in a certain order as well. Well, here is the one I wrote:

Vandals

I saw our names in aged graffiti –
Faded feelings, watered bricks.
They’re scratched away but last forever –
Engraved like colorful memories.
And people say we are vandals,
That’s just the word out on the street…

It was not a dirty street,
But they want to cover our graffiti.
Wouldn’t that make them the vandals?
Wouldn’t they be throwing bricks?
Whatever anybody does, we still have our memories
Even without any colors, our spot is set forever.

Yes, we’ll bring these walls to life forever!
Parading anguish down the street,
Our pain will live on in our memories,
Our fanfare felt in that graffiti –
Our colors instilled in those bricks
Because we bleed the blood of vandals.

This Petri love we share – like vandals –
May grow up tarnished and be loathed; then forever
We’ll be stuck, laying down bricks
Upon Heaven’s street.
And God will draw his own graffiti,
Become a part of our memories…

Hate will define our memories.
Like the apple and the first two vandals
We’ll be kicked out for our graffiti –
Like They paid by living scared forever,
For losing faith upon God’s street…
God carried a cross, we carry bricks.

I’ve never held such heavy bricks.
We’ve never had such memories.
We’ve never crawled upon God’s street,
But in our dreams we have been vandals:
Knocked down walls put up to last forever,
And tore down our very own graffiti.

This is our street, we are the vandals
We’ll build bricks like memories
And we will die some day, forever. Faded names in graffiti.

Letting the creative juices flow... (How gay and sexual does that sound?)

I am under the impression that the Switchfoot song "I Dare You To Move" was written after a long game of chess between the singer and someone else. They were probably stuck in a stalemate for a long time, one of the two slowly pondering his next move before the other shouted out "I dare you to move!" Yes. That's definitely what happened.

While I'm in the writing mood, I'd also like to talk about something that's been on my mind for at least two weeks now, because I hear it everywhere I go.... Christmas carols. They're everywhere! It doesn't help I work at a clothing store, but still... They should create a law that makes it illegal to play Christmas songs on the radio any earlier than two weeks before Christmas and up to New Years. Otherwise, by Christmas everyone is sick of them (or at least I am... and that's all that matters). Alright, in reality carols are not that big a deal, but people should at least change it up once in a while, and create new ones. I know The Killers did a Christmas song a few years back that was good and much different from the classics. No Doubt's version of Oi To The World is also a great one. What I REALLY have a problem with, however, is the lyrics in all these songs. Oi To The World is creative, funny, Christmasy and awesome. It's about an Indian boy named Haji who gets beat up by skinhead Trevor at a bar and they chase each other around and at the end they hug it out (Bitch?) and have drinks at the pub together. Classic. Isn't that what Christmas is really about? (Tongue-in-cheek, all you by-the-book people out there). That's creative. What bothers me is why (as I've already mentioned on Facebook) we sing slaying songs on Christmas? And we have fun slaying people?!?! "How fun it is to ride and sing a slaying song tonight!" So we're not slaying people, just singing about it! And we're riding a winter roller coaster or something while we do it? It's crazy.

Furthermore, what in the bloody Hell is a jingle horse? I have never been able to figure that out. "Giddy-up jingle horse, pick up your feet." First of all, if a horse (and I'm basing this point on the assumption that a jingle horse is, in fact, either a breed of - or something very similar to - a typical equine) picks up its feet, then wouldn't it just lie there in the snow, uselessly. I mean, yes, it will theoretically float for the tiniest fraction of millisecond, but after that all four legs would hit the ground and the jingle horse's knees would probably snap or something... Alright, and now let's work on the assumption that a jingle horse is actually a horse with jingles on it. With that in mind, the lyrics still do not make any sense. If a person is wearing clothes, you do not call him a clothes person. What idiot wrote this?... Stupid lyricist, could have made a lot more sense if they lyrics were "giddy-up, horse-with-bells, run really fast... riding around the block." (or however that line goes). Ridiculous.

But wait, there's more! You'd think people were bad enough, singing slaying songs, but no... that's not enough. They also have to sing about whores. "Oh what fun it is to ride on a one whore-soaping sleigh." Not only are they "riding a whore" (if that's what we call it nowadays), but the whore is covered in soap! ...or at least the sleigh the whore is on is covered in soap. Makes no sense. This is what the kids listen to today? No thank you. Here's a real Christmas song:

Oi To The World.

Genius lyrics... originally by The Vandals, popularized by No Doubt.
This is the best Christmas song you'll ever hear.... (for those who don't know, Oi is a form of punk rock meant to unify skinheads and punks and everyone...)



Haji was a punk just like any other boy
And he never had no trouble till he started up his Oi band
Safe in the garage or singing in the tub
Till Haji went too far and he plugged in at the pub

'Twas a cold Christmas eve when Trevor and the skins
Popped in for a pint and to nick a bag of crisps
Trevor liked the music but not the Unity
He unwound Haji's turban and he knocked him to his knees

If God came down on Christmas Day
I know exactly what He'd say
He'd say "Oi to the punks and Oi to the skins
and Oi to the world and everybody wins!"

Haji was a bloody mess, he ran out through the crowd
he said "we'll meet again we are bloody yet unbowed"
Trevor called his bluff and told him where to meet
Christmas day on the roof down at 20 Oxford street

If God came down on Christmas Day
I know exactly what He'd say
He'd say "Oi to the punks and Oi to the skins
and Oi to the world and everybody wins!"

On the roof with the nun chucks Trevor broke a lot of bones
But Haji had a sword like the guy in Indiana Jones

Police sirens wailing, a bloody dying man
Haji was alone and abandoned by his band
Trevor was there fading and still so full of hate
When the skins left him there and went down the fire escape
Oi! Oi!

But then Haji saw the north star shining more than ever
So he made a tourniquet from his turban saving Trevor
They rappelled down the roof with the rest of the turban
and went back to the pub where they bought each other bourbon

If God came down on Christmas Day
I know exactly what He'd say
He'd say "Oi to the punks and Oi to the skins
and Oi to the world and everybody wins!"

Olsen Twins (AKA I know way too much about Full House)

What ever happened to the Olsen Twins? I mean really! They were the hype! They were awesome in Full House, where they became stars, and then they had like 5 awesome movies and then once they turned 16 - nothing. I know MaryKate became anorexic or something, but just because she's skinny does that mean she disappeared completely (I know she does when she turns sideways, but seriously!). They should do like a Full House remake or something... Something along the lines of "All Grown Up," the Rugrats remake where they're all older. That'd be awesome! And in the Full House remake they actually have both twins appear instead of just one at a time! Ha! And Bob Saget should be the same Bob Saget that is portrayed in Entourage... the crazy, cracked-out sex addict. John Stamos would still be the same badass John Stamos... Uncle Joey (come on, anyone seriously know/care about his real name?) is probably 60 by now, but he'd be the same funny, cross-eyed dude. Jodi Sweetin became some alcoholic, and they could feature that in the new version. Candace Cameron went from fat teen-aged DJ to the hot blond wife of Russian NHL player Valeri Bure. He could make some great cameos. They don't really need to include the weird neighbor, Kimmy. No one cares about her. She was pretty useless and annoying. I think that pretty much covers it. Anyway, all I'm really trying to say is I want to know what the heck happened to the Olsen Twins?

Asians...

Like I said, I have a lot of stories to remember, and I just remembered one! I was on the bus on Thanksgiving (I think), and there was an Asian mother, father, and daughter sitting on the seats in front of where I was standing. The little girl got hungry so the mom takes out a bundle of rice wrapped in plastic wrap and hands her a clump of it! I just started laughing inside.... Rice is not only the worst travel food one can have, but I mean come on! How ridiculous is that? I mean it wasn't even just white rice, there was like rosemary or something in it. I understand if you just had some Chinese food leftovers or something, bu this was just a ball of rice in plastic wrap. I don't know, I just found that really weird. I can't stereotype 'cause I don't know if they were Chinese or Japanese or whatever, but I know us Russians would never take Пельмени as travel food! That's the best equivalent I could think of.... What do you think?

Stuff

I'm sitting in my boring class and I'm tired as hell. I've got a cold as well, that's what happens when you don't sleep all weekend. Today I bought some fingerless gloves at a stand for three bucks and now I'm wearing them while I'm typing on my computer. It makes me feel a lot like a hacker! I'm awesome!
Let's see.... I had a lot of stories to write about but I just didn't have the time to update at all last week because it was hell week for the retail business. Wednesday is my usual day off 'cause of Volleyball, but I didn't have it anyway last week 'cause of the holiday... And to make a long story (to be told later on this week, hopefully) short, I switched with someone on Wednesday so I could have off Sunday because Meri came to visit on Friday night. so I worked Tuesday night, Wednesday morning, Thanksgiving from 1-close (which was 6... but closing always includes making the store neat and folded and everything...)... so I got out at 8:30 and then Black Friday 3-close (which ended up being 2 AM). Meri's bus came in at 5PM on Friday, but I couldn't find anyone to switch with any other day so I was stuck working while she went to Sea Cliff. So I got out at 2AM on Friday night (Saturday morning) and took a 3:19 train to Manhasset. Got home at 4:15ish and hung out with Meri for a bit finally. THEN I passed out for a few hours and took an 8AM train back to the city and went straight back to work from 10-3. (3/4 of the employees who closed on Black Friday opened on Saturday). So the rest of the weekend was just as hectic, but that's the gist of why I got no sleep and am now sick with a cold.... My thoughts are jumbled. More to come later, after I sleep.

Just had a thought. Yay! Fodder for writing!

So, amid my semi-daily spurt of evening internet-spamming boredom I stumbled upon a recipe for bread. When I say I stumbled upon it, I do not actually mean that I used StumbleUpon to figuratively stumble upon it, nor do I mean that I literally tripped and stumbled over a recipe book; I mean that I was dazedly staring at my iGoogle homepage and noticed that one of the three daily "How-to[s] of the day" was "How to Bake Almost No Knead Bread." (By the way, anybody want to explain to me how if the little window is called "how to of the day," why there are three of them every day? You don't go to a restaurant and see more than one soup of the day! That goes against the very definition and premise of something being "of the day!" You can only have one!) Anyway...

I get to the recipe of the bread (which I don't really need to know anyway, because I love cooking and baking, and kneading is one of the fun parts...), and the main ingredient, of course, is flour. But just like any other recipe you ever read that calls for non-whole-wheat flour, it says "unbleached all-purpose flour." That made me wonder... has anyone ever heard of bleached flour? Has anyone even made it? We know flour is white. Why would you ruin it by adding color to it and why would it be of such great importance to mention that the flour be unbleached in every recipe that calls for it? Do you ever see in the baking aisle of the supermarket a bag that says "bleached flour!"? I don't understand. And if it did exist, wouldn't competitors quickly come out with alternatives? "Flour made with Tide!" or "Lysol flour!" People are stupid...

Now that I think about it, why is it even necessary that distributors mention that the flour is all-purpose? Technically everything and anything is as all-purpose as the bearer wants it to be. I can use flour to fill up my child's sandbox (if I had a child or a sandbox...). It may not be the most fun experience of the child's life, but hey! look on the bright side! Throw some water in there and ask the kid to make a castle and voila! You no longer "knead" to worry about the bread recipe issue because the kid will end up (unbeknownst to him) kneading it for you in the process! (Pun clearly intended). All-purpose flour, my ass! My Macbook is technically all-purpose. I can use it to semi-angrily, completely-seriously rant about the ins and outs of the stupidity of the flour production industry, or I can use it to wipe up spills off the kitchen counter. It won't be very good at the latter, but I can do what I want. The End.

*EDIT* special shout out to Lena Meany, who is in the midst of a long road trip from Coors country to the beautiful state of New York!

LOL!

This video is so gay. I laughed out loud for a few seconds after watching this 'cause it's so stupid.

Prose.

Good morrow!
I had to write a prose for Poetry class that I shared with the class today. It's nice, because prose (at least the way the prof. makes us do it) is just like my blog entries, but a little more poetic! So it was pretty easy and fun. It was technically my first time doing this, because obviously the blogs don't count. So here it is:

    It won’t come to fruition. Intuition tells him something’s missing, but she’s Heaven-sent. And his poor heart is heavy-set. It wasn’t always so, but love clots fill his being ‘cause he’s worried. The crimson blood can’t pump because he’s broken. And so it sits there, filling up his center. His heart expands just like a lung that’s filled with water and can’t breathe without injecting poison that would otherwise be life-sustaining, but it kills him now. But he’s never been more alive, feeling the pain, waiting for the burst. That fatal bubble grows as more love tries to flow. The love just doesn’t want to leave him…

    And that is his dilemma, as he tries to fix her and his arteries. As if they both were one inside of him. He’s blue beneath the skin but never redder underneath it. She knows this. She can feel every pain that he feels. She is pain – at least to him. And yet she’s just the opposite. She was the twilight that showered him with loveliness just before dusk. The smell before the sunset breeze; she taught him how to breathe! Taught his heart to pump so well. Professionally. He pounded out her rhythm, just the way she showed him. Now she chokes him. But the worst is, she didn’t know it, and she won’t leave. She just doesn’t want to leave him…

Singapore.

So, looking through my blog stats, it turns out I have a fan in Singapore! There are 4 hits from Singapore, and they're all spaced out rather evenly.... I don't know anyone in Singapore. I have hits from England, France, Canada, Russia, Australia, New Zealand and Japan - And I know people in all those places - but I don't know anyone in Singapore. So here's to you, Singapore Fan! This shoutout is to you! Leave a comment, have your voice heard! Make yourself known! I've always wanted to go to Singapore, and now I have a supposed friend there. Introduce yourself!

Right Now

I just got back from work. Gotta work to feed the kids. You know....
Anyway, I have to put together my poetry midterm now, pretty much just a portfolio of my poems put into a folder (who uses those anymore, really?)... Basically I'm in a poetry mood, which, Thank God that is so, because otherwise how the hell would I be able to finish these unfinished poems. I can't be forced to write, lovely professor of mine! Yes, you may not believe in writer's block (and I do not either), but the point is you cannot expect us to always conform to your poetic needs and assignments. As an established poet and playwright you should understand that writers make their own deadlines if they wish the work to be perfect and at its best! All I'm saying is there's a reason all of my poems are either half finished or not to your standards... But that's a story for a different day. I'm in a poetic mood... I listened to Eminem on the bus home from work... It always opens the mind up to freedom. While I was listening to Eminem, another rap popped into my head... and it is really pure poetry. Here is an excerpt from the song Release (Parts 1, 2, and 3)  by Blackalicious. This is actually Part 2 of the song, and it is a mellow, poetic free-verse that is chanted, more so than rapped. Enjoy this beauty.


Inner breathlessness, outer restlessness
By the time I caught up to freedom I was out of breath
Grandma asked me what I'm running for
I guess I'm out for the same thing the sun is sunning for
What mothers birth their young-ens for
And some say Jesus coming for
For all I know the earth is spinning slow
Suns at half mast 'cause masses ain't aglow
On bended knee, prostrate before an altered tree
I've made the forest suit me
Tables and chairs
Papers and prayers
Matter versus spirit
A metal ladder
A wooden cross
A plastic bottle of water
A mandala encased in glass
A spirit encased in flesh
Sound from shaped hollows
The thickest of mucus released from heightened passion
A man that cries in his sleep
A truth that has gone out of fashion
A mode of expression
A paint splattered wall
A carton of cigarettes
A bouquet of corpses
A dying forest
A nurtured garden
A privatized prison
A candle with a broken wick
A puddle that reflects the sun
A piece of paper with my name on it
I'm surrounded
I surrender
All
All that I am I have been
All I have been has been a long time coming
I am becoming all that I am
The spittle that surrounds the mouth-piece of the flute
Unheard, yet felt
A gathered wetness
A quiet moisture
Sound trapped in a bubble
Released into wind
Wind fellows and land merchants
We are history's detergent
Water soluble, light particles, articles of cleansing breath
Articles amending death
These words are not tools of communication
They are shards of metal
Dropped from eight story windows
They are waterfalls and gas leaks
Aged thoughts rolled in tobacco leaf
The tools of a trade
Barbers barred, barred of barters
Catch phrases and misunderstandings
But they are not what I feel when I am alone
Surrounded by everything and nothing
And there isn't a word or phrase to be caught
A verse to be recited
A man to de-fill my being in those moments
I am blankness, the contained center of an "O"
The pyramidic containment of an "A"
I stand in the middle of all that I have learned
All that I have memorized
All that I've known by heart
Unable to reach any of it
There is no sadness
There is no bliss
It is a forgotten memory
A memorable escape route that only is found by not looking
There, in the spine of the dictionary the words are worthless
They are a mere weight pressing against my thoughtlessness
But then, who else can speak of thoughtlessness with such confidence
Who else has learned to sling these ancient ideas
like dead rats held by their tails
so as not to infect this newly oiled skin
I can think of nothing heavier than an airplane
I can think of no greater conglomerate of steel and metal
I can think of nothing less likely to fly
There are no wings more weighted
I too have felt a heaviness
The stare of man guessing at my being
Yes I am homeless
A homeless man making offerings to the after-future
Sculpting rubber tree forests out of worn tires and shoe soles
A nation unified in exhale
A cloud of smoke
A native pipe ceremony
All the gathered cigarette butts piled in heaps
Snow covered mountains
Lipsticks smeared and shriveled
Offerings to an afterworld
Tattoo guns and plastic wrappers
Broken zippers and dead eyed dolls
It's all overwhelming me, oak and elming me
I have seeded a forest of myself
Little books from tall trees
It matters not what this paper be made of
Give me notebooks made of human flesh
Dried on steel hooks and nooses
Make uses of use, uses of us
It's all overwhelming me, oak and elming me
I have seeded a forest of myself
Little books from tall trees
On bended knee
Prostrate before an altered tree
I've made the forest suit me
Tables and chairs
Papers and prayers
Matter vs. spirit, through meditation
I program my heart to beat breakbeats and hum basslines on exhalation

Soda Cans.

I just had some rum and coke. I drank it with Pavel Roudenko. It was his rum. Captain Morgan, to be precise. That's the best type of rum. For those who are unaware (idiots), Captain Morgan was a great man. He was better than Blackbeard. Better than Captain Hook! I would say he was better than Jack Sparrow, but that would just be a lie. Jack Sparrow could beat Chuck Norris. Easily. Speaking of Blackbeard, I think he would have been better had his name been been BlackBeer! Then he'd be even more badass! I think it's funny that I just randomly mentioned Jack Sparrow and Blackbeard in the same sentence because both of them are in the next Pirates of the Caribbean movie! I can't wait for that! Hands down the best movie series of all time. And that's all because of Johnny Depp's amazing acting...

Penelope Cruz is in the next movie as well. Can you say HOT? Because I can! I don't know why the ability to say a 3-letter word is relevant to this situation, but whatever... deal with it. Back to my original point....

I had a rum and Coke (should Coke be capitalized, because I was actually drinking Coca-Cola brand cola, and not some stupid, unworthy imitation?... I think so. Anyway...) To drink this rum and Coke I had to open a can of Coke (naturally)! So, of course, the fact that I have to open it is made excruciatingly difficult by the fact that I have no nails and the "pop-top" is pressed deep down into the top of the can. Trouble. That made me wonder; why hasn't good, old, brilliant America thought up a way to make opening cans easier? I mean, yeah, we have can openers... but those are for legit cans.... The cans that homeless people mass order on their homeless person internet - or however else they get their food, how should I know? - and the cans that are sealed shut and impossible to open unless you smash them on a rock... which is more useless than having Christopher Reeves as a doorman, simply because no one wants to eat canned food off a dirty rock, just like no one wants to have a dead paraplegic guy in a wheelchair opening a door for them while he claims to be Superman. Too soon? I don't know, ask Heath Ledger. Oh yeah, never mind....

Point is, soda cans are way too difficult to open for us normal, male humans who don't have obnoxiously long fingernails. Made me wonder, what possible inventions could there be to make life so much easier when one simply wants to enjoy the simple pleasure of canned liquid sugar? And I had revelation! An epiphany! (Wait for it...) Why not GOOGLE it!? So I Googled it. And turns out those genius drunk Europeans have already figured out a way to fix this simple problem! They added a dent. Yes. A dent. They added a dent right below the flattened-ellipsis-shape-with-a-line-through-it thing that opens all soda cans. And VOILA! Anyone can open a can of soda with ease! Amazing.

NOTE: I didn't actually Google this phenomenon, but I was bored in class one day and was on Stumbleupon and it led me to this picture. And I fell in love.

For those who are bored, Enjoy this game. I've gotten up to level 25. Best game ever, and fantastic time-killer.

Yo Mama

Ah! Before I get back to class, I need to inform everybody that I just came up with a brand new, completely original Yo Mama joke off the top of my head! This one's actually kinda good!
Ready?

Yo mama's so fat, she's a ROLL model!

Subway (not the MTA...)

Today I walked by a Subway shop on the way to class. Well, I didn't walk by one.... I walked by the stupid old guy outside of Columbus Circle, wearing about 17 layers, holding a sign that says "SUBWAY! NOW SERVING BREAKFAST!" and an arrow pointing which way to walk.

First of all, Subway is not "now" serving breakfast. They have been serving breakfast for a while now. Everyone knows that they give you the option of entering the store before 11AM and ordering 5-day-old eggs, fake rubber bacon, and crappy American cheese on a green wrap or their awful-smelling "freshly-baked" bread.
Second of all, I want to know why Subway is advertising their store across the street from their store!? If you want to hire a homeless guy to hold a sign for you on cold, blustery days, at least have the common sense to put him a block away or something... somewhere where he is not in full view of the store. Put him in the middle of Central Park! That would be fun! You get some morning jogger who, for some unknown reason, has a craving for Subway diarrhea and sees the sign then starts running in the direction of the arrow, only to get lost on some trail in the park. Classic!
Anyway... Thirdly, why does Subway feel the need to advertise with such means at all? Listen, you guys have just recently bypassed McDonald's as the number one fast food company in the world. Believe it or not, people, there are now more Subways in the world than McDonald's. I guess this is partly because it is healthier, but also, people are starting to realize that cheap sandwiches are more filling and taste better than tiny burgers and fries that don't even mold or turn stale after being left out, untouched, for years upon years...
But the other thing is, fast food places don't need to advertise anything extra besides the usual billboards and TV ads.... If someone wants fast food they will get it. Why bother wasting 9 dollars an hour on a useless guy when it most likely does not increase your revenue one bit? Stupid people...

Alright, later guys... gotta start paying attention in class now.

UPS

I walked to the dry cleaner's today to drop off some shirts to be laundered and pressed. Along the way I saw a UPS truck on the corner of the street... Two black men in UPS uniforms were delivering packages to one of the stores... Brings a whole new meaning to "What can Brown do for you?"

EncycloPetera.

Some day all of my blog stories will be published. When I am famous and everybody knows of my awesomeness, I will write a book encompassing my life story. These blog posts are the highlights. The things I deemed important enough to be shared with the rest of the world. My book will be a collection of my view on everything. It will be called EncycloPetera. So buckle your seat belts, ladies and gentlemen. You're experiencing an important part of history!

Red Light!

There is currently a red light shining from my Macbook's headphone jack. Oh, my silly computer, you are not Roxeanne, and therefore do NOT have to put on the red light! .... It thinks that my headphones are plugged in when they are not. Apparently this happens rather often with Macs... after you unplug headphones sometimes it keeps the headphone connection on, but at the same time it realizes that there aren't any plugged in... The red light is the Mac saying "HELP! I'm CONFUSED!" Poor guy...

The quick fixes online say you need to insert a toothpick or a needle to the end and break the supposed connection... yes, it's not a joke. That's all the fix is... and surprisingly it's not even a physical fix. It's just like a quick reset. The best part is, right now if the headphones aren't in and you press the volume button it just gives you a crossed out symbol. Like, no! You can't! Now if only I had a hairclip or something to fix this with....

New Yorkers....

I saw a girl on the way to school yesterday (and by that I mean I saw a girl while I was on the way to school, not I saw a girl who was on the way to school) and I was appalled. I could not understand how she fit into her jeans. This was a stereotypical American, McDonald's-munching fat chick - so fat that using the word "obese" to describe her would be a kindness - and she was wearing skin-tight jeans... at least they would have been skin-tight if they weren't engulfed inside her thigh fat. Her hamstrings were so tightly in the jeans that they wouldn't even jiggle! It was disgusting! It was also disgraceful because one of the only perks of being fat is that you DO jiggle. It's like orange jello.... it may be nasty and taste like Triaminic, but at least it jiggles, so it can't be that bad!

I just felt I had to share that... It's a typical New York experience. More to come later when I'm less tired.... and it'll hopefully be about a more interesting topic.

Inside of Me.

I just quickly jotted down a poem in about 3 minutes, the lines of which were running through my head throughout the day. I think I managed to get all my thoughts out... I don't know, it's not really anything important or serious, just the combination of feelings I've had about life throughout my life. I am not depressed. I write depression poetically and expressively because it is often the best creative stimulant. Just ask Edgar Allen Poe or Emily Dickinson (great name she has, by the way...). This was also partly done on incentive from poetry class because my professor wants me to be able to get out of rhyming mode... which I can easily do, but I have to prove to her. For those who are stupid, this poem is from the point of view of someone who has ADD (which I've often self-diagnosed myself with having... so in that regard it is pretty personable/personal)... As such it is done in an ADD-ish style, which you will be able to see. I also do have a lot of crazy thoughts in my head all the time, as you can clearly tell from my blog... hence the first line. Enough explanation. Enjoy... (And yes, I know "tessellational" is not a word... Poetic license. Sue me).


Inside of Me

Nobody knows what’s inside me
besides bones, muscles, tears, blood.
Sweat, genius, fame, and love snuck into me
like red wine on an off-white shirt;
drank up by the cotton – and it spreads
quicker than diseases do.
But I just dyed the whole shirt red instead
To deal with my misfortune.
I just died.

Every jumble in my skull jungle
feeds into my entire soul.
My way of life, my way of being…
There’s no happy ending.
What’s inside of me is just a vision:
Figures, symbols, numbers, letters.
The same way transformations
from papyrus hieroglyphics
Yielded to the path of Biblical anomalies –
and yet harmoniously they both make sense.
There’s magic in odd-looking, colored cats
on tessellational paper,
just as much as there is faith in fright.
Just ask Saint Peter.
And what do I see?

Inside of me
there’s this confusion in the randomness,
oxymoronic as it may seem.
Double Ds – that’s one example,
and I’m not talking plus-sized breasts.
I mean the two Ds after the A,
that’s what this is.
It’s not confusion or allusion,
not even a cry for help.
…And there goes my imagery, right down the drain
with all the five-o’clock-shadow microscopic hairs…
Let me swim!
I will find the rainbow in the deeps,
where there’s no sunshine to even make or see it.
And the angler will guide me.
I’ll follow him.
Down. Into the dark.
It’s dark inside of me…

Still Tired.

Sooo, I thought tonight I would write up the the recap from my weekend in Rochester, but I got caught up watching Leaves of Grass. It's a movie starring Edward Norton, twice! That's pretty much the greatest thing ever. He plays his own twin brother.... basically they're both geniuses, but one is a college professor and the other grows weed back home. Very funny and dark movie. A must-watch!
Anyway, now that I finished the movie I'm tired... and I have to get up early tomorrow to go to work. I realize that right now I could be typing up about that weekend, but it's gonna take a while. I do have another story from this previous week.... here goes!

My first day of work at Esprit was last Thursday, and there was another kid, Andrew, who started working a few days before. Well, this is the story of how I found out Andrew is gay...
The way clothing stores work, for those who don't know, is that someone gets assigned to each section. I was in the back section, and Andrew was assigned to "float," meaning he went around through each one, wherever customers were needed. So I'm covering my section, and a girl walks up to me and goes "HEY! Do you have a boyfriend named Drew?!" I weirdly and confusedly responded, "ummm, what?" to which she goes "Oh, is there an Andrew who works here?" ... I said "yeah, he's right there," (he was like 15 feet away) and she asks him (in a much more polite way than she asked me) "do you know someone named Drew?" He responds, "Oh, my boyfriend?"... then they continued talking... and that's how I found out Andrew was gay.

Turns out that girl is good friends with Drew and he told her Andrew works there... whatever. When I was talking to Andrew later I recapped this story and he started laughing, saying "Who does that?" ... I mean it's not really that it was awkward, more like I was taken aback as to the context and pretenses of the question. It was, nevertheless, funny. The only thing that bothered me was that she had come up to me first, meaning she thought I looked more gay than Andrew. Ah, pity.

wow

Alright, wow. It's been way too long. I'm sorry, loyal followers of mine! I just started work at Esprit last Thursday, so I've been either too busy or too tired to post anything. I feel terrible. I need to keep in mind that I still need to update everything about my previous weekend with Meri, because there's a lot of good reading material in that. That I can do tonight because I have no work and I'm not too tired. For now, however, I have a few good stories from the past few days. Read on!

Last night, I went out with Pavel Roudenko to get some food and beer at a corner shop on Lexington and 93rd, one block from Synod. As we go into the shop we hear some screaming outside... I totally ignored it, as I'm used to the late-night shenanigans of New York City, but Pavel's still new here and actually noticed it. So we walk out of the store and all of a sudden there's an ambulance and three cop cars outside. A pretty woman walks by with her dog and starts talking to us and the other little shop owners, who at this point have come outside as well to observe. Turns out this woman was the person who dialed the cops... She said she saw and heard a naked guy outside screaming from her apartment while she was getting ready to walk the dog. She said he clearly seemed either unwell or on something crazy like crack. So we're standing there and I walk over a little closer to check it out, and this guy, who is now clothed, is sitting on the curb with his hands cuffed behind his back while the cops are talking. Most of them are laughing. This is when it gets awesome. The guy rolls off the curb, turns onto his side, and starts attempting to kick the plainclothes officer from the ground. He lightly swipes the cop's knee and one of them starts lightly smacking him to get him to stop. It was great stuff to watch, just him slowly letting loose a feeble kick while he's attempting some ninja ground-swipe attack.

At this point more cops show up, in an NYPD van! A good 4 of them get out, the driver is laughing, as he clearly had heard what was going on over the radio. He starts talking to us, we're laughing that they need so many for one crazy, whacked-out guy, I guess they had nothing better to do at 11:30 PM on a Wednesday, but there really was no point of these guys showing up. After they show up, the EMTs put the crackhead on a gurney and start wheeling him to the ambulance, all the while he's kicking and screaming something indistinguishable, but along the lines of "I'll kill you! Let me go! What the fuck!" They put him in the back of the truck and drive away, and the cops lingered and kept talking and laughing. All that for one naked druggie. How is it I always happen to experience things like this? Just another day in the life...


One more quick story before I have to go to class...
You may have seen my status update yesterday about my argument with my poetry professor in class. Well here's the full story. She's an accomplished playwright and poet by the name of PJ Gibson, and she is a very good professor, but she's kind of quirky (For those who want a little background on her, here is a list of her plays, and here is a quick summary on her professional career). Anyway, she spent the better part of this semester making sure we knew how to do exact-end rhyme. As someone who's been writing poetry/lyrics (mostly lyrics) since I was 15, writing it comes relatively easy and natural to me. And I am great at rhyming. I am infatuated with the lyrical ability of artists such as Eminem (as I mention all the time), Shawn Harris (The Matches) and Stephan Jenkins (Third Eye Blind). Before this class, I found it repulsive to read or write poetry that didn't rhyme. I think it's a lot more beautiful when you can get the point across while making it flow rhythmically and making it rhyme. I've since learned that you can, in fact, have great poetry that is free verse, but I still think nothing compares to a true rhyming ability.

That said, lyrical rhyming is very different from exact-end rhyme. With exact-end rhyme, as the name suggests, there cannot be poetic license... It has to be a perfect rhyme. You can't rhyme, for example, "months" with "once," as I've often done and seen because the ending sounds are not exactly the same. So, the type of poem we were doing last week was a villanelle, which has two repeating lines and the other lines must have exact-end rhyming (the most famous villanelle is "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night by Dylan Thomas). She asked yesterday if anyone wanted to open a poem on the computer so we could read and edit it as a class. I thought my poem was awesome and volunteered. Basically, we went through it, and she didn't want to change anything 'cause she said it was very well done (which is a HUGE step, because she's very critical)... but the one thing she said was wrong was that the word "fussed" did not rhyme with the other words it was supposed to rhyme with (lust, trust, must, etc...). I was like, "umm, why?" and she said because it ends with "ed" it's pronounced "Fuss-duh." At this point I, of course, got angry because fussed CLEARLY rhymes with all the other "-ust" words, because that's how it's supposed to be pronounced. She said no, it was because of my bad pronunciation, and as an example said that she's from Pittsburgh and people from Pittsburgh pronounce "water" as "war-ter," but that does not make it the correct way. I said that's ridiculous because it's not a change in dialect, it's the normal way the word is meant to be pronounced by the rules of the English language, and if any word ends in the soft "s" sound and is then put into the past tense via the "ed" ending, it is pronounced "ust," with a soft "t" sound, not a hard "d." She then became frustrated, as I always argue poetry points with her and she usually proves me wrong, but in this case I thought it was such a ridiculous point she was making that I was not backing down...

She asked a student to take out the rhyming dictionary we were supposed to buy for the class (which I, of course, did not buy because I'm smart and have my very own rhyming dictionary in my head), and asked the kid to look up the rhymes for "-ust." The way the dictionary works is that it gives certain ending sounds numbers and lists every word in that rhyme sound. Well "-ust" was number 443 or something in the rhyme dictionary, and it gave a list of all the words and then in parentheses it said "(also 307 +ed)." So if you go to rhyme number 307 it says "uss" and lists words such as fuss, cuss, bus, etc. So clearly what the dictionary was saying is that besides all the "ust" words, any "uss" word in the past tense also rhymed with "ust." The professor, however, being a little quirky, didn't understand that that was what it meant. She thought that the "+ed" part meant that you add the ed to words like trust, and then "trusted" would rhyme with "lusted." At this point one girl who sits next to me in class goes "professor, I hate to ever agree with Peter, but I have to say that he's right in this situation."

When the profesor STILL didn't understand that she was wrong, however, she went to dictionary.com to use the pronunciation guide that it has... needless to say, she didn't know that it only pronounces the root word, and not the past tense word, so that was a dead-end, as it only pronounced "fuss." (I'm sorry this rant is going so long, but as annoying as it may be to read this, it was infinitely more annoying in class, so you're kind of experiencing what I was experiencing). FINALLY, we asked her to go on a rhyming dictionary online, where when you type in any word it gives all the exact rhymes it has. I directed her to rhymezone.com, and we typed in "fussed" and finally, when it shows all the words ending in "ust" she accepted that I was right and she was wrong.... So there we have it. I don't know how she was being so not-understanding in that situation when it was so clear, and I wasn't just arguing for the hell of it like I often do... I was legitimately upset. But I won!

Thanks for sticking with me even though I let you down for a whole week with no posts! As a reward for your patience, you get to read the now-infamous poem that was the cause of this poetry class controversy! Peace!


Golden

You shine so golden when you lust.
Your lying tongue can taste so foul –
But gold was never meant to rust.

I am immune to all your trust,
You’re a disease inside my bowel.
You shine so golden when you lust.

So go on and do the things you must,
I spot a shimmer in your scowl.
But gold was never meant to rust.

And so you sit there in the dust,
Horny and wet – without a towel.
You shine so golden when you lust.

Inside his bed you sometimes fussed,
And like a dog let loose your howl
But gold was never meant to rust.

Oh, there’s your face, your hands, your bust.
At night you are just like an owl…
You shine so golden when you lust
But gold was never meant to rust…

An Editorial-esque Response to Father Serge Ledkovsky’s Symposium Lecture

At the recent Synod Youth Symposium, Father Serge Ledkovsky gave an insightful talk about the past and future of the Russian Church Abroad. The specific point in his talk that drew my attention (and the one I disagree with) was when he mentioned that events such as the annual St. Herman’s Conference are wandering away from spirituality and focusing more on entertainment and socialization. He believes the most successful events are those that are more religion-oriented than those that are socially oriented. I agree, of course, that our Orthodoxy is - and should always be - the main focus of conferences and symposiums, but there a necessary balance required in order to keep youth and adults alike interested. This brings me to my point.

I cannot deny the fact that in the recent future our conferences and events have veered away from being completely religious and have become more and more “fun,” however, look at the results. The 2008 St. Herman’s Conference in Montreal was the most successful one I have attended, and it had a huge turnout by recent St. Herman’s standards. And here’s the thing: it was fun. We, the youth, knew this. We liked the idea of road-tripping it up to Montreal along I-87. We liked the idea of spending a week in Canada, 5 days of which were to be spent attending Conference functions. We liked the fact that the clergy and Conference organizers were understanding of the fact that we are young adults and we showed our gratitude for their fairness and understanding by attending the Conference that was designed with us in mind. And I genuinely feel that we benefited from this. I have highlights from this conference in my mind of the presentation about Russia done by the ROCOR youth who attended. Everyone enjoyed seeing Andrei Mouravieff receiving a blessing from Patriarch Alexis. Everyone enjoyed the question-and-answer session with Bishop Gabriel; the fact that we can interact with any Bishop at these events, knowing that they themselves enjoy hearing us express our opinions, love to see us praying in church, and love to laugh while they avoid answering our (my) stupid questions. That’s the way it should be.

I’m not going to continue droning on about one conference, but I think my point has been made. Just look at the situation this year (and keep in mind that I raised this point to Father Serge at the symposium). This year the St. Herman’s Conference will be back where it first started, in Jordanville, and, as someone with a little inside knowledge of the situation, I can say that it was at first expected to have the lowest turnout of youth attendees in many years. (I am extremely happy that I’ve since been informed that this is not the situation at all, and that, in fact, a very large turnout is actually expected!). Generally, however, for those who choose not to attend because of a lack of entertainment value, I’d like to say that I don’t think this is right because I wholeheartedly agree with Father Serge when he says “we must always remember that we are Orthodox Christians and not be afraid to show faith,” but I’m pointing out what is often the harsh reality of the situation. As someone who tries to attend every event possible, no matter the connotation, I hate that the situation is so, but the fact of the matter is most youth will not attend a conference – no matter where it is – if there is seemingly no possibility of having a good time in the process. Therein lies the rope - a balance is needed between the spiritual and earthly aspects of these events.

I am a bit nervous that this article may be taken the wrong way by some, and I am by no means worthy enough to be lecturing others on Orthodoxy, but I do believe I am expressing the opinion of most of my fellow youth with what I have just said. I’d like to thank Father Serge for the great talk that sparked this little response, and Father Andrei Sommer for organizing the symposium, and I hope to see and be a part of a continuing rise of youth attendance at the multitude of functions every year. I just think that, realistically, we need to have stability between religion and socialization.

More filler before the killer (the killer being the updates from this past weekend).

New York is the city of black people. I don't mean skin color, I mean clothes. Everywhere you go, people are wearing black... It's a way of fitting in. But it makes us stick out. I say "us" because I do it too... I have a black jacket that I usually wear with either black pants or regular jeans (another fit-in item of clothing)... New Yorkers are all the same. We are unique for our attempt at being non-unique and unoriginal. Creative for being non-creative. In San Francisco everyone wears bright colors! Miami they wear bikinis. L.A. people barely wear anything. New Yorkers wear black, no matter the time of year. It's a way of telling people to mind their own business. No one wants to ask directions from a guy wearing a black hoodie, head pointed down, cheap aviators on his face... I'm talking about myself here. I'm a nice guy, but I hate having stupid tourists ask me stupid information about stupid things. "Excuse me, does this train go stop at 103rd street?" Look at the freaking subway map in front of you, fool! I'm not the MTA. I know where I have to go, and that's all I care about. I do, of course, know where the train happens to stop (because I know everything), but don't my hood and headphones indicate to you that I'd rather you not ask me?

Back to the point... I mind my own business and blend in like everyone else... usually. I'm not a prick who walks with his head up, Armani suit emphasized by a Brooks Brothers tie, all topped off with a Tumi two thousand dollar brief case. Those are the people who step on dog crap on the pristine New York City sidewalks. I keep my head down, reflective sunglasses on, staring at the ground. I'm the one who notices the fresh shoe print in the now-flattened poop, not the one who steps in it. It works for me. Keep your chin up and your head down... That's how you get by in the robot city.

The story of Yoru Day Love.

Hello, people! It's been too long! I've got many updates coming up shortly about my weekend with Meri and many of her A-Plus quotes, but for now there is a little story that JUST happened that I want you to know about to fill the time until I get around to those updates. Here goes. (Just for those of you who are either new readers or don't know anything about me, this will explain why the first word in the title of my blog is Grammar... because it's important).

Meri and I were having a conversation about beavers via Facebook messages (don't ask... really), and I received the following message (copied and pasted word-for-word):

":) yeah cause you know so many beavers. tell me about yoru day love!"

This is what I responded:

" Yoru Day was an Asian man. I believe he was a samurai. That would make him Japanese. One day he was out fighting a battle with all his samurai friends and he spotted someone. It was not another soldier, or a friend, or anyone he'd ever seen before. But he felt, nevertheless, that he knew this person deep down. This person was also Asian. But she was Chinese. Ouch. That's not to say that being Chinese is bad, that ouch was there because when Yoru saw this woman he stopped fighting for a few seconds because he forgot the current situation he was in, and one of the Chinese wannabe-samurais stabbed him in the gut. Yoru was determined to meet this woman he just saw and because of whom he had just gotten stabbed, so he raised his samurai blade and cut off his assailant's head. Then Yoru Day ran for this Chinese woman with all the passion of a Japanese man running for a Chinese woman, and swept her off her feet. She was not scared, for she had previously spotted him as well and knew they were in love at first sight. He kissed the woman and made love to her on the spot, while the battle raged on behind them. No one cared, for they knew. They knew what was going on. It was love. Asian love. True Asian love.

And that, my friend, is the story of Yoru Day Love! (next time get your grammar and spelling correct!)"

Peter Miro AKA The Man.

Today was a great day. Why, you ask? No, it was not because I stalked Meri while she studied. Today was a great day because I Skyped with Pete Miro. For a good hour and 8 minutes. It was epic. We even took a picture as a memory. Good times. We talked about life, Bert's Market, Mountain Dew, Lucille Ball, blogs, beer and church. Pretty wide berth of material. We're just that cool. It was also pretty cute, like old times.... (If in the old times we actually had Macbooks with built in video cameras.) The moral of this story is I got a great point of view from Pete on Syezd and church... a typical Miro point of view... One that I definitely agree with a lot of the time, but can also disagree with at times. Here it is, lightly paraphrased: "I would always go to church if it was like... you know... a massive service. Like with 60 people in the choir! If it was a bigger event all the time, and people celebrated the idea of prayer and church more often, more people would come. You're standing in church and praying, but it's more than just that. It needs to stimulate the senses, that's why there's incense and singing. That's why everyone always shows up on big holidays."

That, ladies and gentlemen, is a quote I shall be using in my review of the Youth Symposium from last week. Hope you have a great night!

Rochester. AKA a quick narrative on the life of Meri.

I'm stuck here in good old Rochester with one Meri Doubleday. I come visit her and she still has work to do. No time for good old me. The boyfriend. The one who paid 100 dollars round trip for Amtrak tickets just to visit her - the girl I equate to Halle Berry looks-wise and she responds "Who is that?" Yes. Woe is me. Now we're sitting here in a boring rip-off Starbucks while she sips some pink smoothie and alternates between keyboard strokes and T9ing it on her 1980s cell phone. "I only need to study for an hour," says she, and I wonder, does that mean we sit here for an hour and then go, or do I stop and restart the hypothetical stopwatch when she's actually focusing on typing her assignment? But I love her. And as she sits across from me, our computers back-to-back, forming an upside down T shape, she reaches for her cell phone again. I just read a few sentences from this paragraph to her and she laughs at me. Gets back to work. She is now motivated. My plan is working. She looks at the textbook. Looks back at the computer. Mumbles something about me being a jerk. Smiles. Leans in closer to the computer. "Oh my God. You have to delete that." Little does she know, that unlike her cellphone, we are in the 21st century and when I delete something I can type it right back! Aha! Take that, woman! I win! *Edit* She just sent Daria Burachek a wall post on Facebook! I caught her red-handed!

I hope you all enjoyed that little bored moment of mine. I'm sure Meri did. Anyway, time for some actual stories about my life these past 24 hours. When Meri was in class today I began reading Jim Breuer's autobiography. For those of you who don't know, he is a stand-up comedian famous for his work on SNL playing a goat-boy, his role as a stoner in Half-Baked, and (obviously) his stand-up acts. The introduction itself was a very interesting read. He explains a very weird, interesting and touching story about writing the book while on a plane to Vegas and the ensuing circumstances that involved it getting stolen from the hotel by a maid and him getting it back. I won't give much away, but it's a must read (the introduction, that is.... in the process of reading the rest of the book now). There's a great quote that stuck out to me that a security guard at a stand-up event told Jim when his wife complained about his use of the F bomb three times throughout his act. The guard said: "I can see through the cursing and still totally get Jim's message. You know, Jesus hung out with all kinds of people and never sat in judgment of them. It's good to keep an open mind. A message can be delivered in any medium. We can't ignore it just because we don't like how it arrives." I don't know, that just stuck with me... very well said and I can really relate to this (see my controversial blog post entitled Dear Old Lady)...

So I think I'm really going to enjoy this read. He's a great guy, pretty smart and really funny. Great combination. I'll keep you people posted on the book as I read it. Meanwhile, enjoy Jim's most famous and arguably funniest stand-up.

Been a few days...

Hi people, sorry!
I've been really tired the past few days and haven't really had a chance to update... But I also haven't really had anything to vent about. Today I do. Here goes.

Alright, I have good news and bad news. Good news is I finally succumbed to the fact that I do not have a job and handed in my long-awaited-and-filled-out application to Esprit, right here near John Jay. I did that last night before my first volleyball game of this season and the manager, who actually speaks Russian, told me to come back today at 2 to meet the store manager for an interview. So I'm sitting here in the craphole of crapholes (John Jay College) in a shirt and tie, waiting for my next class and then heading straight there after. I'm all but guaranteed the job because they're in dire need of employees and I have good people skills... I've just been holding back 'cause I was hoping for a restaurant job first. But I love Esprit and I can sacrifice working there for 10 dollars an hour in return for half off all clothing! Anyway, that's the first good news.

The other good news is that right after the interview I'm heading back to Synod and then grabbing my suitcase and heading to Penn Station to catch a 3:45 Amtrak to Rochester to visit Meri. Why? I don't know... Is it even worth it? xD (Note: I believe that is the first emoticon I have used on my blog. Who cares?)

Now the bad news. The MTA. SCREW YOU! Worst organization ever created. Yes, worse than PETA! And that's saying something!  Both the MTA and LIRR are tied for that position. Congratulations, New York, you now have the highest prices for mass transit out of any city IN THE WORLD. I'm sure that would even include freaking DUBAI, if they even had mass transit! I mean, come on! For those of you who don't know, here's the scenario (that sounds like a cheap line from a rap song.... but I digress... as I always do). Currently it stands at $89 for a 30 day pass. That means you can scan however times you want every day without having to pay anything extra... and that lasts for 30 days. You can buy one whenever (so it doesn't go by month, but rather by day of purchase). Now, that I can deal with. And I've dealt with it for two years. But for a college student it is still a lot of freaking money. Now the new price is $104 for that same card! I can understand having to raise it 5 or 6 dollars maybe, but they raised it a whole 15! Here's the kicker... ready? That extra 15 dollars from every person isn't even enough for these bastards! When this deal kicks in in January, EVERY TIME YOU BUY A NEW  CARD FROM A MACHINE THERE IS A ONE DOLLAR SURCHARGE. Why, MTA? Just why? Does it really cost you THAT much money printing a measly little piece of plastic that you need your extra dollar's worth? For me there is really no monetary difference between paying $104 or $105, because it's so minute a difference, but that's just my point... What is the point? They're such money-grubbers! Makes me so angry....

On that note, I've always looked for a politician who actually cares about this problem... It affects everyone, the lower class, the middle class, the business men, the suburb commuters and even the upperclass.... EVERYONE rides the subway once in a while... Yet people like Bloomberg (and I like the guy...) don't care. He's got billions, so what's a 105 dollars to him, even if he didn't have a Limo... But in yesterday's AMNY there was finally an article about a politician giving a crap. NY gubernatorial candidate Carl Paladino was quoted as saying "If I'm elected, I'm going to take apart the MTA piece-by-piece." Well, he's the winning candidate in my book. The dude wants to fire everybody (his words!) and just restart again and make it fair for the people. VOTE for him! I don't know if I can 'cause I'm not a city resident... and I don't really care to find out how the NYC voting process goes, but I know who my vote would rest with, to the point that I don't even care about his other stances or the fact that politicians always lie, I just want this stupid problem solved. The End.

Anthropological thoughts.

I just had a revelation! I'm in an anthropology class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and apparently at the end of the year we actually need to do a project involving fieldwork to create an authentic anthropological study. It can be about anything, but we must take part in the experience to get an authentic feel. The professor gave examples from previous students, like one kid went to the place where Mexicans get picked up in the morning to do work and he worked with them for the full day to see what their life is like. So, I'm on season 2 of Dexter and as I was watching the episodes a few days ago where he goes to the Narcotics Anonymous meetings I thought that doing something like that would be awesome. I'm thinking for my assignment I'll sit in on a few AA meetings and actually maybe even pretend that I'm in there for rehab myself and use that as research. I think that would be a great and very saddening experience.
Petey Dubz Out!

A poem for Liza Olhovsky.

I wrote this poem for two reasons: In honor of Liza and for my poetry class. For those who weren't there, I based this off the fact that in her coffin, Liza still had a smile on her face. The faintest of smiles, but a smile nonetheless.

For those of you who know how poetry is supposed to be read, read it that way... for those who don't, the poem has internal rhyme within the lines, but read it based on the punctuation, not the line break and you'll hear the intended rhythm and emotion I was going for.



Smile…

You were alive… Once.
And then you died… Months
and months went by.
Everybody cried.
Nobody could believe it,
Why oh why, oh why?
It felt like a lie.
Laughter in the sky,
you were talking to us like “Ha, ha, ha, surprise!”

But then you saw us sigh.
Nobody realized,
when we looked at you we didn’t see the signs.
And there you were, just lying
inside the coffin, smiling.
That typical, sly, Elizabethan smile.
The one we all adore.

The one we all adored.
But you just couldn’t take it,
life without your father – was it such a bore?
Waiting for results now, there’s nothing to explore.
I smell you in my lungs.
I see you in my pores.
And I still can’t believe you, but I just can’t ignore…
This feeling’s so unusual –
of course – it was a funeral.
And I know you were smiling
‘cause you knew you looked beautiful.

MTA

I hate the MTA. I hate the LIRR. I hate the subway system. I hate the LIRR. I hate Jamaica Station. I hate the LIRR. I actually kinda like Penn Station. I hate the LIRR.

Symposium

I'm up really early on this Saturday, about to go get breakfast, ready for the symposium here at Synod.

In other news, I miss Firefly. Hands down the best show to ever get canceled. Stupid Fox Network.... Always cancel the good shows. Just thank God Prison Break made it to the end!
For those who haven't seen Firefly, get on that!

A good video to cheer up you sad or bored folk!

Back so soon? Yeah!
So I was just entertained by this little gem of a camcorder recording on youtube. These two Mormon guys get taken to school by a black Christian when they attempt to preach to him:

Nothing

I am tired. I don't know what to write about. I am going to only write sentences that start with I. I like where this is going. I like myself. I like my blog. I like everybody. I think this is getting annoying. I will stop.

Alright, I got that out of my system. Today was a tiring day. I did nothing but go to two boring classes and watch Dexter. Just finished season one. It was amazing. Currently downloading season two! Tomorrow will be a great day 'cause I get to wake up and watch Grey's Anatomy and The Office! Woot! And then hopefully season two is finished downloading and I can get on that!

Aside from that, not much else happened today for me... Oh, yeah, I played some Avenged Sevenfold on my iPod today, first time in a while (I don't know why), specifically one of my all time favorite songs: I Won't See You Tonight (Part 1). The singer wrote the song about his best friend who killed himself. It's one of the most beautiful emotional songs you will ever hear. I put it up there on the level of November Rain (which, as those of you who really know me well know, despite what I may sometimes say about other songs, is definitely my number one all-time favorite). It is actually very similar to November Rain because it's almost 9 minutes long, starts off with a light piano intro and picks up and then finishes with multiple solos. Also, it's a tad harder rock than November Rain, but still just as beautiful. Maybe I like both songs because the guitarists have amazing nicknames; Slash and Synyster Gates.... I just know they're both masterpieces.

For those who are interested:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rCv-1wBHa0

Mermaids.

Just wondering (and by just I mean I've wondered this many times before but it just popped back into my head), how do mermaids pee? I mean they have a face, arms, and hands, and they clearly eat to stay alive, but there are no genitals! For that matter, how do they reproduce??? The females have breasts, as shown to us VERY clearly in The Little Mermaid (which, by the way, WAY TO GO, Disney! Nice example for the little kids! I know you're all about subliminal messaging, but that's just blatant sexual imagery, it's far beyond sublime!) and I really doubt that mermaids are asexual, but neither sex has sexual organs. Hmmm.... a mystery for the ages. Mermaids suck.

But, while we're on the topic, let me entertain you all with a picture I found a little while back, which I just noticed is from a fellow Blogspot blogger:



Haha, you like it? I laughed out loud (LOLed) when I first saw it. Very clever. Out of respect to the author, I will give the url to his blog: http://superpunch.blogspot.com/

PeteyDubz Out!

Sometimes I Wish I Was Nocturnal

I don't know, I just love the nighttime. Especially when it's quiet. Aside from maybe when you're on the toilet, I find it to be the best time to write; not just for school, but creative, personal writing. I love writing lyrics or poetry at night. I love blogging at night.... Then again, I love blogging all the time.... anyway. Even being in Manhattan now, it's rather quiet in this area... and I'm on the Upper East Side. Just a few blocks uptown from here it's regarded as pretty much the beginning of one of the only "bad areas" left. But right now my window's open and aside from the occasional plane or car horn it's silent.

I think this is the reason I usually procrastinate my essays until the last minute. Partly 'cause I like challenging myself (and nothing's more challenging than getting an essay done on time when you it's due in a few hours), but I think that, aside from the tiredness factor, I do my best work at night. It's great to sit back with a scotch or a glass of wine, bundle up in a hoodie and just let the mind flow. That's why I'm procrastinating right now. I love getting myself to the relaxed state by watching a few episodes of a show or just zoning out to music and then having a drink and getting to it. I have an essay due at midnight (which really means by tomorrow morning... as the professor told us herself she doesn't really mind) and I'm just relaxing 'cause it's only 3 pages and it's a perfect night in good old New York...

Along these lines, a great man once said (I don't know who) that if it wasn't for the last minute nothing would ever get done. Genius. Well I think if it wasn't for the nighttime quiet nothing would ever get done. More genius. I just can't ever get myself to write during the day, wherever I am... maybe that's why I like pulling all nighters once in a while. Libraries are too creepy and you can't eat or drink; outside is too annoying with all the joggers, smokers and flying squirrels; and everywhere else it's too loud or busy. At night it's just you, the computer, any food or drink that you'd like, and the creepy neighbor with the binoculars across the street. That's why you've got to close the blinds! It's just you in the comfort of your own room. Ahhhhh. Nice.

So... this is pretty much my most mellow post yet (alliteration alert!... Haha, I just did it again in the parentheses by accident), but it fits my mood. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I will continue to enjoy this lovely night.

Boring Class.

I'm sitting in a boring class. What's up with you guys? I think it's ridiculous how many boring classes that are ridiculously easy that I've had at John Jay... Ive had so many I don't even have stories. This Penology class I'm in now is so easy I just sit here on Facebook all day and don't do the readings and get graded on participation and essays (and the occasional test... all of which are open book). So once in a while I participate... and it's actually enough because she's such a weird professor that she asks your name after you make any type of comment and marks you down for participation points. Then the essays are easy and for the test I'll read up important points, bring a book to class, and I'll be good. Simple. For all you people out there who are bored and/or in boring classes or just want to procrastinate, leave me and your fellow readers a comment explaining your ridiculous situation! Go!

HAHA A kid in front of me just picked up the phone 2 seconds ago, and it's so out of control the teacher doesn't even know! He goes "What up? I'm in class," and had a 30 second conversation before hanging up. This is great!

AHA!

Update on the previous restaurant story:
I responded to the manager's email saying. "I understand. Thank you very much for the opportunity and the consideration. I will definitely come in as a customer on future occasions. -Peter" That's all I wrote, and in response I just got an email from her saying merely "Thanks, Peter!" Ha, I hope she feels bad now! I can sense all the guilt in those two words you just sent me, woman!

Sooooo Now I'm mad.

Hi.
As most of you know I've been trying all month to land a job, preferably at a restaurant as either a bartender or waiter. I got a call back a week and a half ago from a place downtown near 14th street by the name of Doma Cafe. Apparently it's famous and a lot of Italian tourists come in because some author took a picture of it and put it on the cover of his book. Anyway, it's a very quaint, cute place which functions as coffee shop during the day and restaurant at night. The cappuccinos are amazing and the food is just as good... It's also a wine bar and the bar shift is easy because you don't need to make cordials. It's only wine and an expansive list of non-mainstream beers.

So I came in 3 times last week, and worked twice, receiving training pay. The kitchen staff loved me and the owner/manager only came in once for about fifteen minutes on Tuesday, the day I came in for an hour just to get acquainted. She originally only scheduled me to work Saturday morning, but then emailed me Wednesday morning and asked me to work Thursday morning as well. As I wanted to leave as a good an impression as possible, I said yes, and I only missed one morning class... the most useless one, because I knew we weren't doing anything important anyway.

So both days I worked with 2 different Czech girls, both of whom have worked that for a few years in their respective morning shifts. I learned how to make the coffees their way and I really enjoyed myself while I was there. The mornings are great because all you really do is make coffees, ring in the orders, give breakfast orders to the kitchen and bring them out and bus the tables afterwards... which most of the customers do anyway 'cause they're all very nice. The best part is the whole place is busy the entire time, so time really goes buy rather quickly. Needless to say, the boss told me she would email me after Saturday to figure out how things go from there. She emailed me yesterday asking for references from places I've actually worked (which is listed on my resume... she apparently had better things to do than read it), and I gave her the information. Today I get an email at 4:16 with the following message:

Hi, Peter.  I want to thank you for coming in.  I wasn't able to reach your
references but either way we decided we don't really have a spot for you.
The bartender has to be able to run the place alone, and though you seem
like a great guy and a hard worker, you are still a bit young to be running
the place alone at night, so we need to find a better fit.

Thanks and best of luck.

- E

 I know, right? First of all, she never showed up the two days I actually worked and got paid for, so she only had my reviews from the girls to go off of, and they all loved me and told me I was doing great and gave her good reviews. Even the guy in the kitchen, Edgar, told me I was doing great... he also called me Papi... but that's a story for another day. Also, it's not like there's an entire bar to run at night. I take orders, bring out food, make coffee, pour wine or beer and clean up. I can do that with my eyes closed.... Age should have nothing to do with it. If she tried calling back my references she would see that... Working behind the bar at an actual Italian restaurant with an a la carte menu while there is a party going on AND tables to wait is a lot more work than working at this place... that's why I was so looking forward to it.

Here's the kicker! On Saturday we needed to deposit money at the bank and get more change, so the girl sent me to the Chase bank which the restaurant uses to do that. So she gave me $2,000 to deposit and $450 to get change from. I was really excited then that I had actually gotten the job because they trusted me enough on my second day working (first with this girl) to have me walk about 7 blocks with $2,500 of the restaurant's money to deposit it... granted the owner wasn't there, but still.... Also, when I left on Saturday the girl told me to take the menus home to memorize the prices... 'cause during the day you really have to know everything quickly when you're typing it in. I'm assuming she thought I did well enough to get hired if she had me do those two things... Well, what can you do?

So, looks like I'm back on the job market and I missed a week of craigslist opportunities because I was so sure I had this... And now I'm stuck with two menus from the restaurant. Wonder what I should do with those? Ah, just remembered! When she emailed me Wednesday she had said I'd get $6/hour training rate on Thursday with no tips and then $6/hour training rate and 30% tips on Saturday and if I got hired I'd get $8/hour plus regular tips from then on (that's actually very nice because the menu is pretty expensive and the customers are nice so you make good tips). Thursday the girl paid me $8/hour, and I told her I was only supposed to make 6, but she said no, that's what the owner told her. So I didn't argue.... Saturday me and the other one made 67 dollars tip by the time I was supposed to leave (2:00), so I got $20. It was still busy when I was leaving (and I actually left at like 2:45 because I stayed to help her 'cause I didn't wanna leave her all alone) and she said that normally the hourly pay you get every two weeks, so she didn't give me the hourly one. So I was there from 9:00 til 2:00 and made 20 bucks because we both assumed I was getting hired. And I really don't feel like emailing the boss and saying I need the other 30 bucks, 'cause I'm not a dick like she is. Plus I technically made a little more already on Thursday... but it's a nice place and I'll most likely come in there to eat some time... Whatever, just another day in the life....

Courtesy of Kaz...

http://americaisretarded.com/

^ For anyone who's ever watched a second of Jersey Shore.

Another Long Day

Last night when I was going to bed I felt like I was coming down with something. This morning I woke up with a big cold.... I felt like I could sink the Titanic.... But I went to church, then came back to my room, passed out, woke up, bought some soup, drank some Lemon Zinger Tea with honey (the greatest thing ever) and went to church again.

I must say, Воздвижение service in Synod with the Metropolitan present is something to see! One of the coolest things ever. They have a giant bed of flowers, and the priests take turns pouring rose-scented water over the cross - which the Metropolitan holds - and it drips down onto the flowers as the person holding them and the Bishop start slowly crouching down. Meanwhile, the choir sings Lord Have Mercy 70 times in a row, starting off loud and the getting softer and softer and halfway through they crescendo again and the Bishop starts bringing the cross up again. Also, all the people in the church lower with the cross and come back up when it is brought back up. This is done 5 times, and I must say, by the third or fourth time I started getting a flashback to the old Isley Brothers song Shout where they sing "A little bit softer now, shout! A little bit softer now, shout!" and then when it's really quiet, "a little bit louder now, Shout! A little bit louder now, Shout!" Ya know what I mean? Basically, it's a pretty neat thing to be a part of it.

Now, however, I feel a bit feverish and will be going to bed... Tomorrow's probably gonna suck so I have to bundle up so I don't feel cold. Anyway... Oh yeah, I wanted to post the poem about Liza. I guess I'll do that tomorrow, gotta edit it a little bit. Peace!

Saturday.

Wow, I almost spent an entire day without an update. Unacceptable! Sorry, folks. I was at work in the morning, final training shift. Hopefully I get an email from the manager soon.
I've got a good update coming later when I will post a poem I just finished writing about Liza Olhovsky... Even though I still can't believe it. <3

So.... I went to church tonight at Synod and Volodya Baros AKA the man in charge of everything asked me to help him carry up wine into the storage room after Prikladovaniye... So I'm wheeling it on the... wow, I can't remember the word! This is giving me flashbacks to psych class and the tip of the tongue phenomenon! Argh! Theeeee ah! I got it! The hand truck! Alright, so, I'm wheeling the wine on the hand truck through one of the rooms that bishops have meetings in and there's a bookshelf, and the very last book on the shelf, right by the door, is one entitled The Giant Book of Insults. I chuckled. Chortled. Snickered. Giggled. Exaggerated my speech (get it?). And Volodya told me to take the book.... so now I've been sitting here bored and it's got some funny stuff in it! What kind of stuff? Well... keep reading in the upcoming days and I will be posting the best lines. Aha! Suspense.

Alright, next point. Scrubs is pretty much my favorite show of all time. It's not only the funniest show ever created (my apologies to all you hardcore Office fans out there... myself included), but it had some of the best dramatic writing out of any show, ever. Scrubs was at times a better drama than most dramas out there... House, Grey's Anatomy (which actually has some fantastic writers as well), LOST (how much did that show bomb in the last episode?), even 24! None of those can compare to Scrubs at its best. When you take Prison Break and Firefly out of the equation, because both the series were completed and canceled, respectively, Castle is probably my other favorite show. Part of this is because Nathan Fillion is pretty much the greatest TV actor ever behind Neil Flynn, Sam Lloyd, Hugh Laurie and Steve Carrell... but also because the show kicks ass! (that last sentence was half tongue-in-cheek, half a shout out to the great TV actors of the 2000s...) Anyway, my point is... a few years back I watched a clip on YouTube where the Scrubs cast and crew set up a fake scene so that one of the crew could propose to his girlfriend, who held the boom-mic in most takes. It was great. Zach Braff did a great job improvising and it was great seeing how well the cast interact how they are all just really great people behind the scenes... That's one of the other reasons I always felt a special connection with Scrubs (no homo).

Flash forward now to today. I'm scrolling through Scrubs clips on YouTube, like I often do when I'm bored, and I came across that proposal clip again. It still made me as happy as ever, 'cause it truly is a great moment to be caught on film... well, then I looked through the comments (another thing I do when I'm bored...) and the girl who was involved in the proposal actually commented from her own YouTube account, saying it was great for her to see that moment all over again.... Now of course I didn't right away believe that to be the same woman, but her name is Anna in the clip and that girl had Anna in her account name so I clicked it, and on her account there are 2 videos. One is of her baby sneezing, the other is of her surprise baby shower on the set of Castle. And her one Favorite video is the Scrubs proposal. So I watch that Castle video, and lo and behold, it's the same woman, years later... and the cast of Castle surprised her with a baby shower in a similar set-up... only this time she thought she was part of the take. And now I know that even aside from Nathan Fillion, the other people behind Castle are just as awesome as the ones behind Scrubs. So that pretty much made my day. Also, props to Anna for being so loved by everyone too. She must love her job.

Here are the two videos, for those who want to see... for the sake of saving space in this ridiculously long update I will just put the links and not embed the videos. Let me know what you think! I'm expecting comments! Especially from all you Scrubs and Castle fanatics!

The Proposal

The Shower

Thoughts.

As I was clicking various links from ESPN, reading about Major League teams other than beloved New York Mets, who - despite my love for them - are a disgrace, I came across one of those annoying ads that pop up in the same window as your intended content so they don't get picked up by pop-up blockers and I had a thought: does anyone ever not click "skip this ad?" (Holy crap, that was a long sentence. Go me!) Seriously, who sits there when they click on some interesting link or another and thinks "Wow, let me delay my internet browsing pleasure for 30 useless seconds and check out this totally pointless ad!" ? (Argh... Despite my extensive knowledge of the English language, I never know how to a end a sentence in that situation, where you have a quote ending the sentence but the actual sentence itself is a question but the punctuation mark of the quote is not supposed to be a question mark. Any insight? Kaz, Ben Marquardt, any thoughts?) Anyway... a little before I had that eye-opening thought that would, quite frankly, be really funny if it was told in angry voice as a stand-up joke from Louis CK, I had another thought while on the toilet. Yes, I do some of my best thinking on the john. I've written many a heart-wrenching song lyric in the confines of those pretty tiled rooms with the giant tubs and rusty sinks! That's not the point, however. The point is, as I was sitting on the toilet and reading the most recent Artemis Fowl book, which I have almost finished reading, a thought burst in my head, one which, now that I look back on it, may have largely been inspired from Family Guy. I was thinking that if the military ever invented a stealth-vehicle that can actually become invisible, wouldn't it suck because that would make everything on the inside visible? So in reality invisible cars or planes are completely unrealistic. Not only that, but if someone's piloting an invisible plane towards an enemy it would still be completely useless because it would show up on radar.... unless of course the plane is flying below the radar's range. But even so, then, because of the height it's flying at, everyone and everything inside would be visible to civilians on the ground. Flying couches and people sitting in the sky and moving at a ridiculous speed! (That last sentence begs the question: why would a military stealth craft have a couch inside?... But who cares?) You all get the point, I hope. I don't know if I don't understand the Theory of Invisibility, or if such a theory even exists, but my musings have merit! Oh, and in case you're wondering, below is the Family Guy from which I very likely may have plagiarized my thoughts... but, like I said, it only occurred to me afterward that they made a similar point, albeit in far less words and a lot funnier. (Take note that their joke is also toilet-related... coincidence? I think not.) Enjoy.

How To Of The Day

This popped up in my How to of the day from my Google homepage:

How to know if you like someone or if you're just lonely

It's a good day.

So. If you have never watched an episode of the Office you should start by watching last night's Season 7 premiere. One of the funniest episodes they've ever had! Boy oh boy was that awesome. The opening scene alone was hilarious... maybe the best opening scene since the Superbowl episode with the fire and last season's premiere with "Hardcore Parkour!"... So, get on that! Lena Tchertkoff Meany, I mean(y) you! The power of Hulu and a little Steve Carrell will cheer you up! Yay!
Now I'm gonna go get some Chinese food and watch last night's premiere of Grey's Anatomy. I have a good feeling today is gonna be one of those stay-in-your-room-all-day-without-showering-and-watch-tv-shows-and-drink-beer-even-though-it's-gorgeous-outside days that we all love every once in a while! Although now that I think about it, I do have to leave to get the Chinese food.... oh well, at least I can fulfill the other needs of the day! Woohoo! Meanwhile, if you're bored here's a link for you to explore... and I will ad it to my links on the right side.

http://eatthis.menshealth.com/slide/worst-beverage-america?slideshow=184612#title

Good Morning.

Ahhh, it feels good to finally get a good night's sleep. Last night I fell asleep watching Robin Hood and finished it this morning when I woke up. I thought it was good at first and then there was no action. I was expecting badass fight scenes with Little John, 'cause I love the beast actor that plays him, and there was a total of two scenes where Robin actually shows his archer skills... the two where he shoots Godfrey. No one cares if he can shoot a flying quail! That said, I knew it was supposed to be a prequel/backstory and yet the whole time I was waiting for the famous Prince John shout from the trailer: "I declare him to be AN OUTLAAAAAAAAW!" How lame was that, by the way? Every time I saw the trailer I kept thinking more and more how stupid that is. What kind of king just yells out stuff in that manner? Holding out the end of the word outlaw is not rubbing it in any more that he's an outlaw. Just rewatch the trailer, you'll see what I mean. Or just go to this site and see how ridiculous it really is: http://robinhoodoutlaw.ytmnd.com

See what I mean? Anyway I thought that even despite the action scenes and the complete and utter rip off of Saving Private Ryan at the end and the terrible historical inaccuracies regarding the D-Day boats that it was still an okay movie... if and only if Ridley Scott decides to make an actually good sequel. One where we get to see Robin shoot people from far away in ridiculous situations and where Cate Blanchett doesn't look like she has swine flu. I really don't think that would happen though, considering Russel Crowe is what, 43? It's supposed to be a prequel, Robin can't have grey hairs on his beard and be 10 years older than he ever was in any of the previous movies (I'll give Kevin Costner a pass, because he at least didn't grow out any facial hair for his movie.... which is a whole other level of ridiculousness... a clean-shaven outlaw? Really? Robin Hood never had time to shave...) I mean, the people were already complaining in the movie that King Richard was 40 years old and really really old. Robin Hood's not far behind...


Alright, alright... the Robin Hood rant is done. Wait, no, I just reminded myself of another stupid thing in the movie. WHY WAS IT CALLED ROBIN HOOD? His name the entire movie was Robin Longstride. THAT would have been awesome if the movie was called Robin Longstride. I think it would have saved the whole movie, because people then don't instantly associate it with the typical Robin Hood story and they actually get that it's a prequel.... Anyway, now I just realized I'm ridiculously hungry, I need to watch last night's Office premier on Hulu (thank God for that website, by the way) and I need to stop using the word "ridiculous" and its variants so much. Good day, folks! You can expect another update shortly after I watch The Office!

The 90s definitely were the best decade for music. Hands down. No way anyone can deny this.

Third Eye Blind.

Today I realized that it's been way too long since I last heard a Third Eye Blind song so I shuffled through most of the ones on my iPod... And the more I listen to them, the more it feels like I'm falling deeper and deeper in love... not in a literal sense... (Meri, you know I love you) but meaning listening to Third Eye Blind feels like falling in love. The music is just so beautiful and perfect. This probably has something to do with the fact that the lead singer, Stephan Jenkins, looks exactly like Gerard Butler, but anyway, check it out for yourselves.

A virtual shot of espresso

For all you Scrubs fans out there, and, better yet, all you non-Scrubs fans out there who are stuck at work or home in the annoying hours of the day, here is today's little afternoon pick-me-up from me to you!

Long Day

Hello citizens! I'm tired right now. Had to wake up early for a training day at work and I purposely skipped my first morning class, which is pretty much the most useless thing ever... Now I'm sitting here and counting down til 5:30ish when my friend will be able to buy me beer! Finally!
I needed beer with dinner because.... Well, I have a lot of leftover bolognese sauce in the fridge that my mom had given me and my soon-to-be-uncle made and I am really dreading eating it because it does to one's insides what Auschwitz did to Jews... just saying. I'm gonna heat that up with a ton of cayenne pepper and hot sauce to make taco meat and then I will indulge. Ahh, to be young again! I've got a feeling (Woo-woo) that tonight's gonna be a good night because I have no class or work tomorrow, no assignments due, a freshly downloaded Russel Crowe movie by the name of Robin Hood (ever heard of it?) that I will be watching for the first time, and the chance to sleep in. Cool Beans. Alright, til next time!

My First Free Verse Poem For Poetry Class.

So, I always complain about the stupid people in my classes who are 20 or more years of age and still do not know how to read, write, spell, be useful or anything, and how I hate them... Well, I think even less of dumb old ladies who can't walk at a normal pace in front of me. It just so happens that the day after I was assigned to do a free verse poem for class that I encountered such a lady on my way to school. My professor encourages us to use real-life situations and to show our true emotion. Here are my results:

Dear Old Lady

Dear Old Lady,
Hurry the hell UP!
Get out of my way with that coffee cup in your hand,
taking your sweet-ass time
walking to the train –
The same one I’m trying to catch,
but I can’t get around your slow, fat ass
rumbling through the rush hour pedestrian traffic
And it’s right there!
The fucking train is RIGHT there!
And you can tell I’m trying to maneuver around you
so you slow down even fucking more,
almost spill your coffee on some stranger
walking the other way at a normal pace.
And I’m so damn close behind you
I can smell your Old Lady smell,
sixty years of rotting, useless flesh.
Like spoiled milk.
Rotten eggs.
Any other old, stale, repulsive dairy product.
It emanates from your Godforsaken pores
like sweaty pheromones.
But no one likes you anyway, so what’s a pheromone to you?
And where the hell are you off to anyway, moving at a snails pace
When you have nowhere to go to but the grave…
Dear Old Lady,
the subway door just closed on my hand.
I hope someone throws you off at the next stop.
Dear Old Lady,
Screw you.