For you my truest friend
For you my truest friend,
With no sight of an end.
Many talks at night
Set my imagination and heart a flight.
Many days of conversations of caring,
Volleys of words and of sharing
My deepest desires of the world
My heart opened and uncurled.
To a person I can find strength in a hug
The one who makes my heart tug.
A solitary kiss
Makes the days set amiss
Go straight where they belong
Like the ending of a love song.
Although I may go off track a time or two
My thoughts and heart belong with you.
The tears I shed are like dew
My mind is unfettered and set anew.
With the sound of your resonating voice
Making you the easiest choice
To share my days of strife
Setting you apart from all other in life
You have set up a special place
In my heart with your handsome face.
There is gentleness in your demeanor
My heart feels much clearer
Offing me a place of rest
Making you the very best
For it is a hidden gentle heart
That makes me never want to part
Too far a distance or time
For in my eyes it would be a crime
To be away from you
With a heart so very true.
Filed under: Poetry | Leave a Comment
Tags: friend, heart, talks, night, conversations, desires, hug, kiss, love song, strife
Sonnet
I walked into a solitary room
Looking for peace and solace
A place to rest growing gloom
Not expecting things to go amiss.
Inside I found a grinning heart
Resting upon shoulders of a man
Someone who left me puzzling a part
Opening doors to a new plan,
Leaving me breathless and off guard
Reeling with great bounds of fear
Trying to interpret fates cards
By bringing this creature so near,
Shining the greatest light, a friend
Setting loneliness and sorrow to an end.
Filed under: Poetry | Leave a Comment
Tags: amiss, fates, fear, friend, gloom, heart, man, peace, solace, sonnet, sorrow
Little Brother by Cory Doctorow
Little Brother by Cory Doctorow
I recently read this book for a theory class and was absolutely captivated by the story and characters. This book touches on a possible future after a terrorist attack on the Bay Bridge in San Francisco. It specifically focuses on a 17 year-old boy, Marcus, whom is wrongly and harshly interrogated by the Department of Homeland Security because of his hacker ways. The story is compelling since Marcus fights the system in an underground and subversive manner against the government. He fights the system and they aggressively fight back and label Marcus a terrorist himself.
Doctorow writes in such a way to fascinate the reader with techno-geek jargon and explains the merits of the technology, as well as the downfalls of technology in society. For those who are not technologically equipped, some research may be in order but it doesn’t take much to follow.
Cory_Doctorow_-_Little_Brother PDF Version
Filed under: Blathering About | Leave a Comment
Tags: book, Cory Doctorow, free pdf version, Little Brother, techno-geek, technology, teen
Finished Sestina
There she sits quietly in a room
Ever playing the role of dutiful daughter.
Her jacket lies haphazardly across a chair,
Next to the oil paints and brush.
The daughter peers into the open book,
To find a picture of a leafless tree.
Oh, how she longs to be like that tree
Sitting out in a field with plenty of room,
Not stuffed in doors with her nose in a book.
She will not do this to her daughter.
She will be allowed to touch and brush
Her hair as she sits in a chair.
She will wiggle and fight in the chair,
Make it rock like wind in a tree
Paint the carpet like a canvas and brush,
Making everything alight in the room.
The prize of my life, my daughter.
Not just a girl pressed between pages of a book.
She is writing away in the page of her book
Not waiting until the end to lounge in the chair
But rather making the best of being a daughter.
Making her very own place in this room
Using her life as a paint that comes from the brush.
Paving the way and becoming that very brush,
That places the words in her life book.
Abandoning this very room,
Which is dominated by her mothers chair.
She is part of the family tree
But it does not dominate her by being a daughter.
If there is one lesson she has learned being a daughter
It is, her own choices on how to use the brush
And paint upon pages of a dead tree.
These pages will become part of the book,
Paving a path to her very own chair
Which has a home in the family room.
It is not just a room, for the dutiful daughter
But a chair to contemplate on and watch the brush
Make her own chapter of the book of her family tree.
Filed under: Poetry | Leave a Comment
Tags: book, brush, family, Poetry, roles, sestina
Gamer Boy Art
Step One: Sketch
Step Two: Cut, Place & Seal
Step Three: Press (my fancy press system, gotta use those old cd cases for something)
Step Four: Finished Piece on my wall waiting for the boy to collect it.
Filed under: Art | Leave a Comment
Tags: anatomical heart, Art, gamer boy, nes, nintendo, sketch
Descartes vs. Lacan
Filed under: Poll Me | Leave a Comment
Tags: course, Decartes, Lacan, literary study, literary theory, Terry Eagleton, think
Canadian geese…beautiful creature or beautiful nuisance? They are seasonal migrating animals, in which they return to the same location year after year, generation after generation. They have landed in my presence.
Recently, these lovely little (not so little) birds have taken up residence on campus, almost in succession with students moving onto campus after a summer break. There are lovely water monuments throughout campus for the year round ducks and part-time Canadian geese to call home. Watching the geese and Mallards interact in the ponds is almost therapeutic, in comparison to the rush of running through campus to class, or jetting through parking lots walker stalking, for a prime parking slot. These breathtaking birds serve their purpose of offsetting the hustle and bustle of the everyday pandemonium we all participate in but definitely have their drawbacks.
As I rush around paths on campus throughout the week, I have noticed the emergence of “natural litter”, that was not present the last few weeks. I may be grasping at straws here, but the geese are leaving some major sidewalk landmines for me to dance around (hopefully not through for my shoes sake alone). Now I am just going to put this in print for everyone to read, I cannot dance. So I have found myself bobbing and weaving around enormous piles of geese droppings. And looking about in hopes no one see me in my jolly jaunts around campus. I, however noticed today others are doing the same jig as me, and by the looks on their faces they are just as disgusted as myself by this.
Now does the beauty of nature outweigh the cleanliness of my shoes? The signs point to yes on campus. I don’t see signs for Pâté foie de gras fete or goose roastings (where we of course, makes jokes at their expense, listen to their honking laughter and then feast upon them. Really, this is an honor). So, I suppose I have to just pay attention, wear old shoes to dance across campus in until the geese go back to their home country to the north in time for hockey season to start.
Filed under: Blathering About | Leave a Comment
Tags: campus, Canadian geese, dance, jaunt, jig, Mallards
Sestina in Progress
This is my first attempt at writing in the sestina form. It is unfinished at the moment but I will post the finished product later on.
There she sits quietly in a room
Ever playing the role of dutiful daughter.
Her jacket lies haphazardly across a chair,
Next to the oil paints and brush.
The daughter peers into the open book,
To find a picture of a leafless tree.
Oh, how she longs to be like that tree
Sitting out in a field with plenty of room,
Not stuffed in doors with her nose in a book.
She will not do this to her daughter.
She will be allowed to touch and brush
Her hair as she sits in a chair.
She will wiggle and fight in the chair,
Make it rock like wind in a tree
Paint the carpet like a canvas and brush,
Making everything alight in the room.
The prize of my life, my daughter.
Not just a girl pressed between pages of a book.
Filed under: Works in Progress | Leave a Comment
A (great?) Contradiction
Just like anything else in this world this illustrious blog is going to be a contradiction of sorts. The blog title alone is a contradiction by mere Webster’s definition, but then again who uses Webster’s anyhow, let me correct myself before I blunder in my very first posting, by dictionary.com’s definition of heyday. Would a heyday actually be grey, with all those high spirits floating about? And did I pop off with the Brit spelling of grey rather than using the tradional American spelling of g-r-a-y? Tsk, tsk…you cheeky little writer monkey you. Ooooohhh…and did I really slip another British-ism in there. Bad American writer…or am I?
Well if you are still reading and somewhat interested in reading my random and most often rambling thoughts check here again. I may or may not have something to say then. Cheers!
Filed under: Blathering About | Leave a Comment
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