January 2012
5 posts
I have been worried
about my body. I had at one time thought that it was because it was such a shabby thing: a dank sort of walking prison that I had to peer out of. But now, as I reflect on the slow restructuring I have gone through in the past few years, I realize that I have in fact been worried because my body has not followed my brain into moral desolation. I have motivated myself to exercise and eat well...
I have enough hate in my heart
to make the whole world stop for a full minute to catch its breath.
I feel personally responsible for the sorry state...
If you don’t, then you’ve become complacent, and are harmful to the enterprise.
Mountain Goats—No Children
December 2011
11 posts
At the end of the day
All jimi Hendrix could do was play the guitar.
Jab! Whack! Stab!: undergrads should always shut... →
dumbthingswhitepplsay:
lilyrosepark:
dumbthingswhitepplsay:
always
all the time
undergrads know shit
that’s why they’re in school. to be less fucking stupid.
and hey, guess what, even if you’ve got your bachelors?
i’ve met SEVERAL bachelor degree holders that STILL KNOW…
Do not impugn hard sciences. Hard sciences are models like any other, and they are only true up to a point....
Life.
It’s less a spiral, and more of a collapsing ratchet sort of motion. Each iteration is a line, straight forward, and the descent can be perceived as gradual. When the end of a circuit is reached, there is a juddering halt, and you are hurtling in some new direction, perceptibly lower. In ordinary Euclidean space, this might be conceived of as a right rotation. One might even assume each...
Go back to Heaven, we don't tolerate your kind...
You've never been down here before, have you?
It hurts to love, and so I love to hurt
that’s transitive, not reflexive
“Your entire universe is in your mind and nowhere else. To expand the universe,...”
– Deepak Chopra (via keatantaylor)
Growing up
is a function parametrized by how many friends you have lost
November 2011
9 posts
every sector of society has it’s heroes. The difference between the sciences and the arts is that I don’t try to say that Linus Pauling can tell you how to live.
The Trip →
I’m not talking about anything real, anymore. My ability is turning tin.
Drowsy, and head
full of brambles, up you go.
I can scarcely turn
my curved and empty head
down from the dawn,
even though you’re there;
naked legs unmade,
you smile into every slice
Caliph
Saps in an alley rock
the dew from out your ears, explain
the way the world is; bind
your feet, your fingers.
For once, taste the scraping
of your teeth along the bone, and know
the dancing barbarism
of this shining time, and make a fine wife
someday
This transcends nothing
You people are all gathered, there
like cloth, or drifts of snow, and sit
commanded, on slow-moving
mounts: white elephants, or rocs
or tigers: tip to ruby tip the monsters
of an empire. While the haunch
of each grinds like a knife
along the whetstone crowd;
implies the violence of your
coats, your drifting
words and songs played low
on black guitars, I watch
and scurry through...
October 2011
6 posts
Don’t call yourself an intellectual if you’ve never solved a problem. If someone else can’t do something or be someone now that they couldn’t before because of a thought you’ve thought, you’ve never really had one. Pencils up.
What gleaming mountains! No,
but I would never live upon
them no,
no I would never live upon.
Bad stars, and crumbled,
seeming reefs, the hand
immobile scar before
clacks up its arm
of weapon-gold
and sluiced, like
brightened leaves.
Unruly mountains, naked
reeds, rebottled anarchists
explode
on breasts of sky
like mottled clothes
and skeins of semen
fast enrobe the sheafs
of...
I haven’t said a word
since the dawn of time,
and I wait at the base of
a tree, for the coal
at last, no wires, coming
from the lasing medium.
Eigenfunktionen
Hollow models caught up
swaddled in sweet lathes of bright
transducing letters, light up
on the stockinged buildings—blocks
of crinkled paint. The SS stops
you on the corner, knocks suspicious
on your turquoise door. Your tweedy suit;
your trim mustache and case
duck out to work, answering questions;
building clocks for princes. Watch
the numbers lock, projective vectors
flock...
Sunder thick, and holderkey
say dappled, dear, and dim
but thin and thither, thorn and thrash
think lather, shank, and shim
Sunk in weeping albatross, start
beckon, horn, and tear,
while Iron cross, and Gildenstern
bark echo, cloud, and shear
But stars awash, and cross the brick
down every meaning hand
still high alight, stark sailor-birds
drift sleeping down, to land
Quit
I am the dark, that goes along,
snuffs every bleary light
and traces a path to the center
of the stones of your house, where upright
stands the slick noise that calls the name
of bastards, wives, and sailors
and begs them slip down the dappling cracks
to the choke of the echoing core.
And out of the breath of the thankless world
comes the laudanum roar of the sea
calling you into its...
September 2011
1 post
Basque
and silent earth, your limbs alight the wandered arc
and to your dappled rims return: what supple night
eloped with, past the gleaming wreath. What tumbled,
up the coiling pale, and passed for light, when late
we braided Diane’s hair, like drunken knives stuck into
the unseelie green, was like the bird, that coward thrush
who hung unseen from Aquila; stole heaven’s height,
and...
June 2011
1 post
August 2010
2 posts
Unifinished
Did they fear the same as us? Unknowing
future widows, men at arms, sailors
on the yards of their outdated, flimsy ships,
watching the river slough away, their doom crawl out;
the prows of north and south’s black warships beat
together like an awful, smoking heart,
Did they know their doom, as we do now,
when they saw it filling Hampton Roads
with boiling rust? Know that centuries...
9/11 Mosque →
July 2010
7 posts
God:
WAKE JU
DAS, PISS
YOURSEL
F AND BR
EAK YOU
R BACK A
GAINST T
HE WALL
IN FEAR
Judas Beholds Jesus
I saw your boots first, braced against the tables,
and splintering the benches. The feet inside were red,
the leather laces tight, done up in haste
the way that all your gear was; would still be.
How ignorant I was! Distracted by
the tenor of your muscles. The raw sex
slung at your hips like knives. Your sermon
undid my hesitation like a toga.
I should have known, I should have stopped to...
Alone
with my gradients. Tell me how you work, universe.
My Funny Joke
A wolfmans, a vampire, and a mummy walk into a bar. The bartender says “Hey buddy, why the long face?” And all three look puzzled. They ask the other patrons at the bar and it turns out the bartender is autistic. He helps to tend bar with his brother, who is currently in the bathroom. The autistic bartender won’t serve alcohol when his brother isn’t there, so the wolfmans...
Caedoglossary
Dear muse. You may ask: why now, of all times, do I write you? By now
you know: I must maintain a certain economy. The monopoly
I have always had. On things like my unfriendliness; suffering;
the oily splay of my rubbery limbs
at each imagined corner
of the bathub. But enough
of me: how are you? I have
not been following you closely, at least
not as closely as I once did. Something
about...
Advance notice
I come back here because it is very likely I will lose my mind, again, sometime very soon
May 2010
1 post
Finishing →
April 2010
1 post
March 2010
3 posts
Dear Jackass who will be working in my lab:
Project goals are not “confidential,” especially not from people in your lab. Just for that shit if you so much as ask me to pass you a reagent I will inject you with phenol.
I used to be creative,
once. I used to believe in art and beauty and all that. I used to put heart first, and believe that cold intellect was poisoning humanity.
The world of creativity, of art and beauty, responded by kicking me out. I pledged my soul to these things, and it was used for a time, then discarded. The world of art was shown to be elitist, piggish and ungrateful.
I am saying this to art: you are not...
Blood Is On The Dancefloor
once again, don’t care if he was a child-molester. Music like this would justify the holocaust.
January 2010
19 posts
