Thursday, September 27, 2012
The toughest, coldest, least-likely-to-care-about-it person deep inside wants a partner to love. Someone to show interest in him, shower him with attention, spend energy and time to understand him, and to have sex with.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
|Left: at Black Soup Cafe + Artspace; right: at Van Gogh is Bipolar|
Soon I'll provide my self and my books (present and future) a home.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
1. I was published in a national magazine for the first time. Most would cringe at the sight of their early works, but not me. I reckon I did a pretty good job back then.
A part of the poem went:
Meanwhile I hear the catalpa pulsatingLook at that little voice talking about the grand loneliness of adulthood.
in beats of an adult song:
fingers that faltered
before storking my belly
unfetter the butterflies into the air—
spiraling in space, spelling
the valediction of a gay season.
2. A lot of the people I love were born: friends and those whom I admire; and if I were lucky, those whom I admire and became my friends.
3. The beginning of the best quarter. The countdown to Christmas starts and in between are exciting holidays like Oktoberfest and Halloween.
The end of the year is always more hopeful. There is relief in leaving unpleasant things behind. —This is not exactly true; things stay with you for as long as you live, or at least have a healthy memory; but the illusion of turning the bad news into last year's bad news is comforting. News is now fact at your disposal.
And these celebrations and reflections are all done as we transition into the new year, when it's January 1 and nothing happens.