Me and Mr. Jones

stretched the lazy length of the windows it sags in spots in order to allow a sudden swipe or tug of alert.

he hopelessly hung his head as he pretended to remain awake and dozed against the pane. crammed in this oblong bus, sucking in himself to avoid his seated neighbor, he relaxed in his solitary struggle against the tedious journey. head finally resting, thoughts far away, a dull moment of pleasure in potholes and vibrations.

tugged from the opposite end, it pounces and grabs his ear. the bus veers and screeches and shrugs into a stop. awake and walking now, he sees that life outside can trump within.

just an essence or is it entirely?
a command followed
and given
in an instant.

sweet harmony arises from
bitter ground
and granulated forms.

seductive. repugnant.

addiction.

the unfortunate truth seems to be that i’m more compelled into action at times than i am able to actually will myself forward. luckily i’m still in enough compelling situations that i do continue to act. George wants some words and i’ve been stewing lately about the right format to give him, and i think i have my solution. taking a cue from the Beatles’ “A Day in the Life”, i’m brooding on the things that i deal with in the morning. the objects. coffee, spider webs, alarm clocks, bus stop cords… i figured each had some particular voice, and perhaps we could use them to mold our next piece (you see i have to come up with many many different voices. and george said no angst and my relation with people are still quite angsty so this just seems the easiest way…). more to follow as they are typed.

woke up early (well, early for me on a weekend) with a little help and immediately began the events that would constitute my day. (to write about it makes it seem active, because the sentence requires both a subject and a verb. but in truth my beginning found me in repose: stewing in the quagmire of concerns that controls my consciousness and sipping my morning coffee as is my routine. practically speaking, i pass hours on end either on couch or chair while my fingernails grow and my nose drips. i fret about things i think i would like to get done. i turn every so often and smile in his direction. i stand up and sit back down as the coffee cup requires. i wait.) today was Sunday and that means CBS Sunday Morning is my only goal. i achieved it.

Sometime last week there was a performance in California. A bunch of people in an a cappella chorus sang a song that I helped write. Actually, as I just re-played the performance recording in my iPod, I realized that they were singing about some fairly important moments in my life. (I tend to write about things that are excruciatingly true.)

And it turns out that I am pleased with some of my word re-creations. So are some others. One reviewer described the piece as “stark piercing free form poetry” while referring to me as a “writer”. Another review, the one that called me a “poet”, thought that my words “recall the chatterings of a conflicted brain”, and also proved to be “aptly incomprehensible”. (CHECK IT OUT)

I shared both of these reviews with Thom, who then said, “I didn’t know you were a poet.”

And now I sit here wondering if in fact I am, what they said, a “poet”. I usually find it annoying when people call themselves “artists” or “poets”, but right now I feel really proud that someone else said it about me.

I suppose that only time will tell.

right now i am a turtle. my shell is weak but it is growing. pulling my legs and arms up inside i attempted to sleep last night but merely passed the time with my eyes closed. sometimes peeking, always hoping. today my shell bumps into door frames as i pass quietly from room to room. eyes open and still peeking, but also getting ready for the day i must pull everything up inside and wait for the storm to pass. i am slow but not steady. my faith resting upon this shallow shell.

1. To have within; hold.
2. To have as component parts; include or comprise.
3. To hold or keep within limits; restrain

many people i know are having babies. some take pictures. the above photo is an example of the kinds of pictures some people take. i don’t know if i want to have babies. i DO know i will never take a picture that looks like this.