sa

I was 17 when I found love in a snowglobe.

In September I saw her behind the window in his house with the light on, smiling forever.

his take on life, and me experiencing it is just again, a different asthetic. we are all doomed

77.

Everyone was sitting down to dinner when a murder came in the building! He killed one of the babies! He then killed one of the mothers! And then all of the males! Then the maid! Then there were only all the babies left! Except the older babies! The ones that were children! And the animals, the one animal the shepherd was set free! But all the babies would meet their doom! But then the police came into the crime scene, what a coincidence! But then there was an earthquake, a timequake and a spacequake at the same time! Everything shook! Except anti-stuff, anti-stuff didn't shake! Are there anti-earthquakes in anti-matter!

76.

Oh my gosh I dove in the lake
get back onto the surface
who knows whats down there
oh god its deep
how far down whatsdownthere!
is that seaweed I see?
(Or arms of monsterous sea monsters?)
To snatch me down and do what with me?
What would monsterous sea monsters
are carnivores thennnnnn
wouldnt we see a weird pattern in fish dispersal?
Anyway, Im back to the boat now
but I need to get to the back to get out
its where the ladder is
why would anyone stay in here for hours
(am I typing this on an animal?)
everything is so thick around me,
the air is so dense! I cant move unless I have to
Its like im in that water! really in the water!!

75.

I'm a decaying specimen of humaness
Stuck between bars of Titanium and Sky
I ride waves of cancer

In Kindergarten I had

been
sdk
js
dks
s

74.

eHarmony


Daily caffeine withdrawls
My professor's computer asked him:
"did u mean eHarmony?"
no one notic
ed


how that makes so much sense
why he r a n t s and claims
and has
B.A. Saint Leo University (English Literature; Theatre)
M.Phil. Trinity College Dublin (Anglo-Irish Literature)
M.T.S. Harvard University (Comparative Religion)
Ph.D. Florida State University (English Literature)

why he forgets that it is a writing class

and not English Literature 101

no one st ops him - he just talks

and we learn nothing about writing

we can't talk to him about his personal life

but he asked us to tell us one thing about ourselves on the first day

oh that really broke the ice, melted right through

he didn't get it when I said I liked ice fishing

that I had been ice fishing for 18 years

everyone in that freshman class should be 18 years old

he never listens

to anything

if he smoked weed

he would love himself

and love the earth,

love everyone on earth

love the fact that we are alive

and can feel love and that

people can love him

because some people could

if he stopped talking

for one fucking second

and let his panting heart catch up

73.

wonderyear in 2009
flavored sweeteningly
parent's garden mist
at home

tabby cats were tigers
crouched, ready
in our parents garden
we grew

3/4 of what life is
available to suck on
in the suburbs for free
for ever

nickelodeon dreams,
commercials memorized
in orange gak
and green goo

when i was 17 i fell in love
when i was 18 i fell in love
and tears
and stars

lakes were surrealist tweakings
of scientist's dreams
windy nights better reflect'd
our understanding

make me look stupid again world
I explore but rarely find anything
who bleeds or scars

72.

A failed relationship in 9 pictures
The frame seemed to clash with the image
professionally developed
colors more vibrant than static
we wiped the fog from the window,
said hello, now go,
go.

71.

tangerine air dreamt her hair
but coarse as maple bark
ready to touch the world
touch the sky,
ask,
is everything just like this?
shes online!
green beaming dot
green beaming smile next to her name
not sure what I would say:
we grew up an ocean apart
and it didnt seem to matter,
didnt seem to make us much different,
(our vectors were so close
and parallel
gods asked will they intersect,
we cant tell!)

                      ...

I like the way your knees touch when you walk
and how youll dance without music
and how Boston hasnt gotten to you yet
because you still look people in the eye.
I liked when you struggled for color
but described that air as warm
And how it was so similar to your skin.
And the way you tell stories when youre drunk,
breathing as though you have hiccups
or as though every sentence is so powerful
it takes the wind from you.

                      ...

Its silly to think I thought you were Czech.
Language barriers are redeeming. Its good to know,
there is more to interaction than.........the cutest thing
is a girl struggling to find a word in my language

I dont like this post. I would like to do portraits,
of various kinds

70.

And it must have been because

you grew up reading

and I grew up playing

that you were okay with our time together

being just a shade of love,

like your "literary crushes" you called them.

i LOVE Zooey you would say,

and I would comply....

You were okay with talk

and text

and time

defining ours,

because you grew up reading.

You typed once,

I love you.

Sometime,

sometime soon

I will be able to fully describe how 

fucking horrible everything

about everything

about you. You need it.

69.

This is not bragging, its something to think about:
People say I take risks.
I don't.
When I was young,
while others were reading,
I was developing skill.
I've never broken a bone,
never been in trouble,
I'm just really fucking skilled.
Anyone who thinks I take risks
Must have read to much as a child.

Sheltered kids live sheltered lives.
Reading kids live abstract lives.
Upbringing, upbringing is everything.

68.

In efficiency, obviously
but less of a limbic innervation.
we are lost because the way in which we communicate changed during our lifetime,
one of the few examples ever!
we must not be ashamed of this
but we must be demoralized.
forms of communication, of abstraction are engrained at a young age.
verbal communication is the most obvious, that is how we were grown! on biological, verbal, physical interaction and now, in this day, in that of internet-typing-chatting we cannot and will never be able to derive the same affection from it as will the generation who, right now is no longer toddlers. similar to the reason music is the most emotionally provocative form of art: it is the most ancient, the most readily stimulating of our limbic system (probably responsible for emoottioonns and more ancient part of brain), the most intensely wired abstraction (sound). espeeeciallllyyy music with words. in effect, it may be possible for some that wernicke's area is used in music comprehension.
stop.
my point is that my generation has the inability to derive emotion, closeness etc. reality from electronics. we are biologic organisms living in a technologic age. sad. well not sad, just not happy. but we can take pride in being the last biologic humans ever, the last unable to derive the same emotions from reality from non-reality, just like the 17-year-old cavemen when writing became a novel abstraction from speaking. we drink heavily because it allows us to forget about Facebook, and return to our childish selves. the fact is we have to. we literally do. we must drink to feel the same emotional productivity as other generations because we are fucked by technology. the coming generations will not be fucked like we are. they will be fine, but it is those in transition, us. maybe quantity will make up for quality. maybe if we interact enough we won't have to worry about quality

67.

Look, K.

I may keep you under wraps
and I may never fully find you
as far as love is.
But far as love strains on those
sunny days
and as far as it rays on those
ugh.............
Best days
I'm sure one moment
of your life you felt
how I do know, about me.

We could have had it all.
We still,
oh imagine us still!
Could have it all.

66.

Isn't this quite silly you,
you reading this blog?
Isn't it silly that the writer's you YOU
consider writers,
you've only read a miniscule fraction of
their words, and developed an opinion
from that
and an opinion about me
Young Stein,
carry me home
Young Stein,
you've happied me, for sure
and more

65.

if you have
red
this far into this "blog"
text me now
5189282955
saying "i see"
otherwise
cowardice will fall,,,
and you question why
I push you away LOL

I'm sorry and red that anyone had to see this.

64.

Dear You,

When we recently went to the pondside

and you told me you had never watched

porn,

I gaged. 

I thought only how this reinvents the idea

that you live only by literature.

"I have never watched porn

you said"

but I've read a whole deal about it

and I'm sure I wouldn't like it.

You said: "The way that it exploits

the woman,,,its ridiculous!"

"It's ridiculous!" I said, you missed the humour

because you literally don't understand.

You literally don't wish tumolt upon yourself

you literally don't find fine in physics 

and oh girl I cannot seem to find the reason

I loved you so

beyond

physics

you should know.

63.

Have you been?
                               Put aside by a thought?
Put aside by one who cherishes though?
Once I went to a store,
the clerk said:
"Have you heard of these mood rings?
everyone your age has one."
Unaware of though itself I bought a mood ring.
It was the worst decision of my life.

62.

The pier translucent "Ball" glass sits menacingly on a blunt IKEA chair infront of me. It holds 100 IBUs per something but at this point it doesn't matter, my adolescent yearning for quality has pulled out with the going March air. The beer though is unarguable good. We planned well but now it sits as stagnant as eastern mudflats. The tele'vision' runs mute. Commercials are funnier mute, they make less sense. For a moment I wonder the intricacies of "Leah F.'s" review of the "Procera AVH" but then remember that the only Leah I know, I would never even momentarily consider her review of anything valid and I pass. The commercial now, definitely an infomercial, is still playing and it fails visually. It plays like an early videogame. I've never wondered before whether others realize whats happening. Dr. Dr. MD. says here that Provera addresses three major causes of mental 'decline'.
I am biologically based, it think. I find attract in realizm and truth in empiricism. Those with me must be attuned quickly to the transition taking place right now. Many years ago a funny "obvious" change took place where humans found religion comedic. The axiom that God created was broken and all assumptions lost. Those who still follow this lost axiom of human obviousness are now deemed silly but in our days "new" questions have arose. We are now in transition from biology to technology. I as a liver  (lol) [[lololol]] have problems with the human transition from biology to circuits because it seems to compromise the definition of human itself. Language is what separated us from chimps and bonobos and now the media is changing. Media is an overlooked term in human existence. Since the first caveman translating speech into writing no media change has occurred as significant as that which we may observed. Everything is now circuits. We assume that Facebook is not tampering with our information. We assume they have databases and servers. We assume the servers are of the highest quality. We assume that the programmers understand physics. We assume that silicon transfers energy in the behavior they describe because if not, if it transmits it differently at a high rate, Tatiana is in a relationship with David and biology is shot. Look, I'm not wasted. IBUs have not gotten to me. Creativity is in the plunge and I sit on the edge of a lake ironically. The "Ball" jar is still half-full the mute-infomercials are still funny. The air is warm and comforting but my world is tennuable, stepply.
Unlost, college awaits only the idiotic soul.

61.

Match.com profile:

Looking for empirical girl

interested in quality,

preferably biology major.

Hopefully very apt at

empathizing with birds

and anything thus trite.

Willing to find character

in anything tangible

and anything poppy.

Ready to admit the irony

when satire is flung. 

Okay with 

red

blue

white

and green

tangent flags.

Ready, as Hemingway so mortally was

to seek refuge in sense.

This is not a poem.

60.

The

dull 

white of a National Geographic 

bat

would be how

I would say your face was,

For that moment I remember.

I mention "bat" specifically because

it was against a 

black 

background

but I mention "specifically" because

no one besides 

us would fully understand

how black that ground actually was (

with dull smoke rising in the distance)

My used-Nissan headlights were dull that night

(as they bore fully into the melanin of your body)

,

and back into the retina of mine. I remember few freckles,

even though you have many:

(I know now).

Since, We have faded. We have faded. We have faded.

Into true tracks for each

your's by generational means 

of illusion

and mine by generational means 

of allusion.

One day, I will discover.

You never will.

59.

Never has anyone,
just themselves,
told me silly for hiding under my blanket every night.

58.

I was 1 in '92
8 in '99 and
20 in 20-12.

We were the first to find
Facebook
and last to have a childhood.

"He is the leader of the class"
my kindergarten teacher once
told my mom,
"Everyone loves him."

In theory I am not a leader,
and never will be.
Leaders lead by touch
and by breath.
As unlost as my generation now is
( )?

57.

Bleak in our face
by Dionysis said far gone,
gone beyond
but we pursue.

We follow brags of brags of kings.
Fish forever,
from streams of iron
from streams of pois.

poisson du leu
poisson de leu
poisson et cheval
hahah gone for communes
lack points to find
I've finally lost myself.

56.

Give.
Help.
Please.

55.

Beened throughest thened fall times
Havingness disintegrations for my mote
I waitingness vote you outer than any before
and waitly findning rationsing at the door

fifty five waiting 4 12 at the clock '
dailylight savings at my mock
ive been sheened fully through
shes never sheed through to you
but 4 12 on the clock theres no end
that shee'l stop.
and retort there will be
bout kony 12 you see
and weakness ill get
through weakness ill get
through weakness ill get
ive been given weight bet
you don't seem much to see
the full burden on me
ripping through towards the light
ripping through towards the slight
of my life you will be
till you fault none but thee.

54.

Have been weary
of her leary
and been keen for shaut-mean

theres a keel that says
go for though greatest
dictates been

words then then
fall been use
no more than than
show me meaning in thy life show mean meaning in they strife show me meaning in thy battle for what thou thinks battle be bourne by. We've been doing this for ages and by few we've engaged by fight we fall splinter by words we deminter emotes full of full truth and by tones full of full prute we have fallen all a shit, and i fight for our shit, but by brown full and right we think pulse all the night and you grant us no grace, only bleak in our face.

53.

And of complacencies nature
run through the first drive
wait of weakness demise
find blantness finds bleakness

theres a weakness to you that ive never heard
a sheen to the gait which then says youve
then stood
a find line of tweet no tweet non then told
and
i fear then then
said be then
said then then
told.

have you felt death been put
then put death
then then shown
fear then death put forth teared then
forth shown then thou told.

Hear then,
girl forth been
there lies none
then more passed,
youve been seen
then more passed
then more torn
then more rassed

be ware of crit
be ware tear
be ware pit
be wear sheen

if thou see more than seen
thou see more
than thou mean.

52.

And as humans, language is our working definition. There are few that know Java and are in control of everything now. Interaction is changing. Changing for the first time since one wrote cave paintings and everyone is seemingly unaware. Expression of opinion and of understanding, now translated twice through screen. An abstraction like this again has not occurred since the first man successfully and eternally communicated thought deep in a French cave. Some say all other arts are trying to be music. Evolutionarily sound is the most ancient of communication techniques after seeing something happen. It is the most rooted in our Limbic, most easily translated into emotion discounting seeing something of emotional relevance occur. After music came writing which is normally next as potent, photography and painting attempted to replicate visual experience. We can see the emotional deterioration by comparing the emotional experience between being somewhere and seeing a picture of somewhere. This same level of emotional deterioration I expect to result from the deterioration of human interaction. Interaction through screen, through Java will be less. The smartest of our breed will get the most out of this new medium because they are the best at abstraction, the smartest always have been. Everyone will then follow. Space is no longer relevant. Nor is time. It should be. We haven't yet passed biology, but maybe my younger cousins have, that's how fragile this situation is right now. Stop and think for a moment about our time yourself. You are alive for questionably the most revolutionary time in Human existence: by the definition of life, the death of life.

51.

Halfly aware
of harpsichords rule nowadays:
we built pianos to avoid this travesty.

Have you seen the Black River?
The loungingly beeswaxy
waters rushing gold through rapids.

On the hillside a cameraman is feeding
sloths honeysickles and laughing alone.
He will die young.

"Gather around kids! I'm going to show you the Black River!"
At night finds an automatic giggle
and talks herself into the covers.

50.

I know there,
in that brisk year
that may be
these days
and those
will yet swell a chorus
of summer's reflection.

In these voices are heard
and in time moments lost
that could have been thought
a moments song.

But in a summer's thought
colorful faces support
Impressionism and
grapefruit smiles never end.

Butterflies melt on skins
never to be touched again
except by a summer's thought.
Our organic hap
a hiccup and
giggle
rose jiggle
and
never again
rely
on thought.
Swell,
set,
and
continue:
listen

49.

Immaturity brought us together.
We could have tossed dice all night and never
missed the four side.
Queen of Hearts, shoot the moon! Its set already!
Sun rose in our eyes and set in our heart
And sun rose in our minds but quite never set.
Fold fold fold fold fold they used to tell me,
but I never learned,

48.

Someday I wish to perfect writing to the mind, both conscious and not. We have a basal pattern, each of us, which oscillates in two directions: towards thought and towards feeling. Thought being mathematical and feeling being not. I wish to replicate this disintegration and reintegration of consciousness in word. Between mathematical proof and impressionism, the continuum all of us surely live our conscious life on. The problem is simply becoming better at writing.....Someday I will definitely write something I am proud of in this style, incorporating realizations in neurological studies will be necessary. How do I start? I think consciousness is a metaphor for the binary between math and subjectivity.....

47.

The curious thought that
She was never as green as grass
fell silently and creepingly into my
animal 'there'.

Had it been there all along?
Below awareness, where we keep
the patterns which could change life,
curation gone awry for a moment's shock?

Shock our thought, and
Shock our blood, and
Shock our life, that which
moved sword and, here
one away from what was
and towards what will be
SHOCKed I was, she wasn't.

46.

She is so stupid,
just so stupid.
I would asker
one day,
WHEN WAS THE
LAST TIME YOU SWEAT?
And she would go on,
go on to describe
Sour Patch,
which are SOUR!

Once another told me
"Neversettleforagirlthatdoesntgiveyoueverything"
in a last salty gasp,
her back broken
from the weight of my kindness.
Too kind.
Never two of a kind.

But I admit to the first:
I am but a Kid,
not from a Sour Patch.
I like Sour Patch Kids too,
and so do most but they are sour.
You know, girl, better than most
that if you lay
arms wrapped
legs wrapped around a Sour Patch Kid
for a night, everything in your body
hurts in the morning,
and even still by midday.
You can ask my professor,
"Sour is adaptive to detect acid"
To say, "this is bad for you"

But really, when was it?
When was the last time you sweat?

45.

She was dating my brother when we met. At the base of the stairs her skin shone honey from distant incandescence and in an 18-year-old hormonal slosh I squeezed by hoping she wouldn't mention my presence. Pop-Tart Pop-Tart Pop-Tart. Only when repetition is broken are we alive and in another hormonal indecision I answered hi, nice to, meet, you,
Hi I'm Cyndi, she said, my name is spelled in a less affluent way than the other one you know, or even than the third spelling which you have never even considered, but I promise you, its not telling of me, telling only of the afluencies which will occur between us over the next year, and as I sit with you at some point, at the October playground kissing, in my January bed sobbing, in your Spring car singing or in those same timeless lyrics, you will not be considering the arguably blue collar spelling of my name.
And in an exhausted pinch I continued on into the kitchen
as silver tears sent
parabolic curves
through the distinctly
my-house-air. It was
stainless steel that night
that caught the tears.
Stain-
less-
Steel

44.

Your text read, "Whenever" so I said, "8.5 min" and hopped in my car. I pulled up driverside-closest to your house, tires just touching the grass. My headlights illuminated the empty 11oclock street filled with heavy 11oclock air. At the end I caught a glimpse of the ash-filled lot that was your friend's house. Her brother is getting better I hear.
I waited a minute or two and then sent you "Herre" like in that Nelly song from a while ago. I started getting that short of breath you get but don't realize it, and then about ten seconds in you have to take a really large dose of air to get your blood pressure back to normal but then when you exhale you get dizzy, that kind of short of breath. My doctors told me that sometimes when this happens to me my vocal chords try to kill me. "They choke you. Your vocal chords don't really like you!" They would joke, and I would agree.
You would come out and walk straight up to the car. I would roll down my window, you would reach in and give me a long kiss, walk around to the other side and get in. It would be good. We would have beeen good.
But you left that house that night with a smile to hide. Hold steady, don't show me your smile. You passed in front of my car and the headlights hit you.
They hit you and maybe the only thing to hit you
and cause you to smile because you
don't know sweat. You don't know
scrapes and blood and laughter.
But in that moment, suspended
in that sunbeam, you made me
forget.
Forget everything
Forget everyfrown
And when you looked
down
with that palefaced
rose smile
trying still to hide it
behind your coat
hide it behind the
11oclock smoke
her house still ash,
still smoke,
I left the car
and watched
your birth
your mother
and your father
in a NewYourkCity
pad
bring to life what would
smile rosily at me
halfway around the world
one cold January night
and say
iloveyou.

43.

A French text read
"Wtf are u?"

I thought for a moment
and didn't respond :))))))))))))))

42.

R1R2L1R2LDRULDRU
Before the internet, how would one figure out the secrets?
The secrets?
The secrets of like, the world.
Just explore.
I'm so bad at that,,,,,,,,,like how would you know where to go?
Exploring isn't about knowing, its about learning.
You can't learn without knowing where to learn
(Kirby 64 drums disdainingly map heartbeats)
discrete             1
                  or
continuous        0

41.

I would love, again.
I have once but never
'in' love,
'in' love 'with'
one.

Staring into two eyes
has never come, with lust,
never equalbutopposite
never combining.

Always pink vector
never pink vectors
never red nothingness.
Red nothingness.

In black and paper
I draw setting Sun next to pink margin lines,
always setting
and never rising.

40.

for those who eat conversations and those who fuck up relations, intellectuals, lovers of metaphor always miss the most obvious

mountains, fall
trees, branch
clouds, rain
moons, wane

39.

a whitewashed tear

for three year

been running gold

through suburban streethawks.

been scampering black through

shipyard rust balks (video).

You look at me with eyes,

sad eyes i've drawn once

and my mouth purses

with purple solidarity..........................

I'liked when you laughed

when i said

go far to the caves.

You find pleasure in non-

there. non-thereness,

I should kiss the ritualistic 

sacrifi which pressed me

to the floor five months ago,

but her fiend fiends otherwise for mees.

Been ghouling for non-ghoul

but gone with laugh hahahahahahahahahaha

because she confused smiles with laugh.

smile with me,,,

laugh with him.

i apologize for the literary content.

38.

Leporlie
The suburban homestead road
5% left battery been here
For many nights on this path

2012 new artistry exists
Because I am liking
Of them now
To find their waterpark
To call their own
Fins circles
Because circles areart

37.

Trees branch

Because

36.

I began to look
Up at the tree to escape
The no-real,
And realized it must be that
Which makes up the ground
Because in essence it grows out
And is
And below
And is.
But for now
I text weak profits
Of methane vents,,,
Because when it comes down to
Hiding,
You'be been the best since
The first days.

Cars shheeeeeeen between me and trees

35.

haha
......
hahhhh
...
hah
.........
ha
..

34.

Shes on her way hear
me when I say
stop please.
Nothing will ever exist
outside of the disintegrating pink vector
from
me to you.
Someday you're sure to try and rebuild it,
but you don't know the first thing about vectors
and never have wanted to.
Thats always been the problem.

33.

Inside the sock
i weare,
bugs in time
eat babies
not.