Radiohead 04.02.98
04.15.98
I'm on a PC, ick. Oh well, deosn't matter...access to telnet and pico is all I need...
It's 4:30 PM. I had a cool class in Theory of Comp. We look like we're going to design a web page for the class..a group project, oh how hard...but the cool thing is we reached an agreement (i think...) to do a project on Kurt Vonnegut! Now that is cool.
Was up at 2:30AM on campus working on my statistics project. I think I'll have enough done to allow me the weekend in SF/antioch. Yay!
Now. wrote this the other day. I'm sure none of you hit
the poetry section, so i'll force it on you here...It's mopre appropiate
here anyway, and while it's not great, it ties to journalling well...
Journalling #1
Who's the Scribe
Of this Day?
The chronicler
Of this Moment
Here in the quad?
Overshadowed sun...
Underdeveloped thought,
And who are
All these passersby?
What are their stories
Their eyes only hint?
How much noteriety
Can be gained IRL
When your life is online?
Removed, disparate, and forced away?
Coffee and muffin in the morn
In this 'art quad'
Watching life flood.
Writing bad lines
As a thought to touch on
Tonight, in my one novelty
Of existance.
So there you have it. I planned on using it for notes for last night's entry (which in and of itself is a rarity...I don't usually sit down with any plan on what to write...), but I never wrote one so what's the point...I've been thinking about it lately, and it seems as if my poetry is just poetic notes...day to day depictions for later use...vain attempts at poetry that should be left in a notepad, referenced later, and filed away never to be used or spoken of again...but that's life I suppose...
So here's another poem I *didn't* write, but it hit me
hard in Theory of Comp today...so keen on *why* the fuck we do this journalling
thing anyway...
Family
by Joesphine Miles
When you swim in the surf off Seal Rocks, and your family
Sits in the sand
Eating potato salad, and the undertow
Comes which takes you out away down
To loss of breath loss of play and the power of play
Holler, say
Help, help, help. Hello, they will say,
Come back here for some potato salad.
It is then that a seventeen-year-old cub
Crusing in a helicopter from Antigua,
A jackstraw expert speaking only Swedish
And remote from this area as a camel, says
Look down there, there is somebody drowning.
And it is you. You say, yes, yes,
And he throws you a line.
This is what we called the brotherhood of man
When you need to get something off your chest, you can only do it comfortably with someone you either know deep down like a soulmate, say your family if you are that fortunate to be close, or a total stranger. The problem with someone close to you is that they *are close* to you...they can't just discard all the emotion baggage they've gotten over the years...i.e. they know you *too well*, and sometimes can't see when you are flailing about...mistaking it in their calm, comfortable too long maintaned image of you...the stranger knows you not, sees everything you have to show, and the sole burden of relief may fall upon those shouldrs...to take that burden up and to "throw that line" then, is truly a noble gesture..."the brotherhood of man"...even being a stranger, having no effect or affect on that stranded soul, we nonetheless should endeavor to aid...this is 'goodness'.
So having this here journal is like that sometimes--the same goes for you otehr journalists I would imagine...it's there for the stranger to read, to involve themselves, to be part of this brotherhood of man and 'goodness' by throwing their support with their presence. Thus, those of you here, thank you for being here. being a stranger here is a stronger act than being a friend IRL...not that RL friends have no purpose...just that comfortablly numb comes from day to day poresence, to interaction...both from my part, and from yours...that's just the way life works, unfortunately...
So maybe I suppose that's what I'm looking for IRL...someone to constantly make me think, to change my thoughts about that person, to reconsider my opinions, my motives, my very being...someone willing to play that devil's advacote even though we both agree whole-heartedly.
Someone who could never just sit on the beach eating potato sald while I drowned...not because they feel not, but because they *see* not...
(No, this isn't a plea for help, btw. I'm doing quite well. Being happy doesn't mean I can't contemplate failure does it?)
"I'm on a roll
I'm on a roll this time.
I feel my luck could change"