funometer!

How funtastic it is when you turn on your funometer and it shows a high fun level. I wonder if her funometer is recording higher levels than mine?! That would definitely be a kill-joy! Meanwhile, turn me on baby and show me a good time; fly me to the no-man’s land, where the barbecue stands are preparing funny lambs!

In Flight (by Jennifer K. Sweeney)

The Himalayan legend says
there are beautiful white birds
that live completely in flight.
They are born in the air,

must learn to fly before falling
and die also in their flying.
Maybe you have been born
into such a life

with the bottom dropping out.
Maybe gravity is claiming you
and you feel ghost-scripted.

For the one who lives inside the fall,
the sky beneath the sky of all.

In the streets of everyday life!

What a treat it is!
To watch a blind man finding his way
Down those steep steps
Round the blocked sidewalks
Just to make it on time
To knock his cane
On the closing doors of a shuttle
That comes by only once in while
What a treat it is
To see the door open
To watch him finding his way home!

What a treat it is
To see a 300 pound woman
Wearing a small backpack
Full of grocery items
And the spinach
Sticking its head out
Yelling atcha:
Say no to the plastic bags!

What a treat it is
To see a dog finding its object of desire
Near the roots of an old tree
Ignored by generations of passerbys
Even for a moment,
A fleeting sojourn
Made all the difference!

What a treat it is
To get hurt
That feeling in the stomach
That crawls up your chest
Making you feel something
Gasping for air
A few drops of rain
You've become human again!

What a treat it is
To dance the whole night
Just to miss you in the crowd
Not even the last song
brings the magical moment of encounter
Just to find you putting on your raincoat
Just to hear the DJ announcing the encore
What a treat it is
To have your number
At the end of that last dance!

A simple rule for cooperation

"What a man hears he may doubt, what he sees he may possibly doubt, but what he does himself he cannot doubt."

Relax

Gain control over your "Reactions"
Withhold your "Judgments"
Give people space to have their "Glory Time"
Excel at your "Game"
Have a "Smile" on your face!

Do not underestimate people's history! Make them comfortable and let them narrate their version of their personal history. With knowing comes understanding and with understanding comes control of reactions, since reactions are a result of not meeting ones expectations and predictions ... a shortcoming of the internal representations and models.

Nudges

iNcentives
Understanding mappings
Defaults
Give feedback
Expect error
Structure complex choices
Choice architects can improve the outcomes for their Human users!

Loving you!

I Love you, in its purest carnal forms
A desire of some primordial sorts
A guileless byproduct of flesh and bones,

I just named it for you,
For your convenience
For your pleasure!

Nevertheless, it has no names
Just a feeling of some kind,
A vision of paradise seen by a blind!

To be

Heartaches, pains of painful images
Sorrow, moments of absence
Suspension and no clear view
To be is to be present in the moment
Of your wants fulfillment
Simple melodies that flow
From one day to the next
An eternal calmness, calling you:
What do you want?
I want all I have, but yesterday
Or maybe last year, or even better
the decade before,
So that today,
I would be a decade from now
But, it is the present, and the images
Of your past that I most abhor
Since, you lived a life,
And I lived a life,
Another life, my life:
Devoid of your image,
Devoid of excitement
There is nothing magical here
Only sequence of events
Passing me by
Some carrying fragments of my dreams
Some carrying figments of my thoughts
But, it’ll be an act of dishonesty
To call what occurs to me dreams
But events, just events
Unfolding, flowing, occurring
I need to have a dream
And a story that connects me
To my dreams
Tomorrow or a decade from now
A dream that is not devoured by
A grandiose dream
A dream, containable within a frame
Or two
Hinting that my spirit is still alive
Kicking, prevailing, existing; that is to be!

impressionable! (by firstcomet)

I think with confidence
I can say that I’m nobody.
I’m just blessed to be able
to be impressed by some “special others”!

And I’m blessed to have met
those who have impressed me.
and thus I have changed
to be even more impressionable!

To cherish the best that
a person has to offer:
having been impressed persistently
by the conditions of their own lives!

Experiences that reach deep down
to places not so often touched!
And to become that “special other”,
is to be touched in those places!

We’re wired for novelty, rejoicing …
being amazed, with big wondering eyes,
seeing THAT we have never seen before,
updating the universe inside our skulls!

That’s who we are, that’s what we do!
And so those who open a new window
to a new breeze, take our breath away,
refilling us with the fresh breath of their presence!

Seeing the world in the light of their realities,
seeing it in a new light every time we chance upon them,
and yet e'er eager for that next encounter!
That is to be impressionable, that is to be nobody!

The Blue Raincoat (by firstcomet)

She came late,
stayed over,
and left around the noon.
A glass of water half less full,
A litmus paper moisten red,
A few ectopic beats,
liberation from homeostasis,
and a blue raincoat,
leaning against my guitar-stand,
all that is left from that impulse.

NOISE

TURN DOWN THE NOISE!
THE DAYS OF BEAUTIFUL MINDS ARE CLOSE!

Destination (by firstcomet)

We are all waiting to die!
To die is to silence a voice
A voice that is pounding from within
Within our senile souls,
Heading towards an unknown,
The voice in us in a monologue
That expands the years of our lives!
And after all being said,
After all the rants and frets,
All that you regret,
All that you forget,
There remains a lone voice
Trapped within a self
A frozen self floating in isolation
A few mirage Islands on the way
Casting away, casting away!
A few rain drops, a few rays,
And the sunshine
That comes to deliver a self
Dissolving in the ocean of life
Just to arrive, just to arrive!

The Algebra of Everyday Life!

The R-Algebra:

There’re things that add up, constituting the ordinary processes. There’re things that don’t add up, and those that do add up with the sum being greater than its parts; together defining the universe of mystery, serendipity, and ecstasy!

If Søren Kierkegaard was right when he said: "Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved," then the R-Algebra becomes only an algebra of living, not an algebra of solving.

However, Søren Kierkegaard proceeds to propose that "Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards". Then the R-Algebra defines a framework to study life events only backwards, while providing them with a universe to be realized in a life that is lived forwardly.

To Milan Kundera, only an attitude of lightness towards life may assist us to coup with the heaviness of emotions that surround any drama. Therefore, accepting the “lightness of being” is to believe in no ultimate meaning in life at all. To a mind that seeks happiness or fulfillment such lightness- although maybe philosophically sound- is “unbearable”. Thus, the universe of Kundera is a universe that does not yield itself to either forward or backward analysis.

In the words of Abraham Heschel: "Life lived as an event is a drama. Life reduced to a process becomes vegetation. The awareness of life as a drama comes about as a result of knowing that one has a part to play, of realizing that the self is unprecedented and of refusing to regard existence as a waste.”

The drama is thus at its zenith when a self that is “unprecedented” encounters the “unbearable lightness of being”, the experience of vertigo is then to follow! But, if this is in fact the common, inescapable, and recurrent experience of every being then existence becomes a waste, and simultaneously contradicting the unprecedentedness of the self! Thus, the R-Algebra is the algebra of those who refuse “to regard existence as a waste”, conceiving and thus realizing a framework to at least understand life backwards.

The way to return (by firstcomet)

Is it yet after midnight on your time?
Should I say something? Anything?
Or should I just take them for a walk;
the transparent crystals
beneath those exaggerated lines!

When did it start, when did it end?
How did it go, what did it say?
Was it sweet, gentle, or was it …
the transparent crystals
beneath those exaggerated lines?

Was it a summer night or a fall’s eve;
when the nether moon winked at the thieves?
Oh, I do remember that I did forget ….
And now I’m left with nothing, naught!
Not a single memory or a grain of thought!

I’m too transparent to miss,
You don’t believe me? Remember the kiss?
Maybe it was too much, do you agree?
Torrid are the roots of this ash tree;
that's why, "it's hard to tell", hard to see!

Could you show me the way to return?
Is it the Passion road where I turn?
Crossing the random alley of encounter,
to the spring or the summer before when
the transparent crystals strayed to yearn!

In Progress!

Terry and Janet said: “Okay, we’re pretending that we didn’t hear this!”
Steve said: “I’m pretending I didn’t hear this!”
Steve said: “I liked it!”
Steve said: “You’ve been extended!”
George said: “That’s interesting!”
Riccardo said: “That’s great!”
Riccardo said: “Let’s apply together!”
Math said: “Looking forward!”
I said: “Life goes on!”

Beyond common sense!

Is it really that hard to trust somebody? Is it really that hard to accept your mental model for somebody was wrong and moving on? Is it really that hard to get over hurt?
How easy is it to become a cynic? How many disappointments tips you over that “razor’s edge”? What do you lose and how much do you gain while trying to protect yourself from hurt and disappointments?
Within these lines are hidden hundreds of years of suffering and hundreds of years of moral evolution.

reflections (by firstcomet)

I see your reflection, on the glass window of night
The flickering lights, twinkling in your eyes
Beyond these walls, the city is quietly napping
Just to arise, another pale day of fluffy flakes
I won't be able to hold on to your image;
eyelids are giving up, I'll catch you later
Beyond the borders of this shuttered town ...

It's Satin (by firstcomet)

And she said:
look at my bed sheet, it is satin,
and a pause, but it is not …
an invitation inside the bed!

And I looked at her bed sheet,
And it was now a satin, and it was strange,
since I had not seen a satin bed sheet before:
No gloss, no float, only fire that blazed and arose!

And I was thinking, limitations of knowing;
Just like a satin with dull reflections,
wavering, under the weight of urges:
nylon, polyester, and silk. Sinking!

And when I finally emerged
I found myself gazing
At your hazelnut eyes
What a wondrous feeling it was!

Though, anxious they looked
As if I caught a glimpse of them
While in a free fall
From the sky above

And it crossed my mind
That while falling
Can we fall for each other,
The certainty of our uncertaint lives?

I did not know.
It was your lips
Emancipated slave of thoughts
That broke the lull ...

I heard your voice
Over a cumulus cloud
About to reconvene with her old mates
To wash the city off my loneliness

Voices that boil your blood
And tightens your jaws
And chest, and fists
Pushing you to the other side …

The nowhere man’s land
The warm feeling propagating
Through my veins, up the ladder
Where the angles reside!

It’s no longer a fight;
likely a gradual transcendence
To where I heard your voice once,
Twice, and again on a Saturday

In the middle of a road,
In the middle of a song,
In the middle of an oblivious life
In the presence of your unbounded reality!

Toi Derricotte

i knew you before you had a mother, ...
i knew you when your connections belonged only to yourself, when you had no history to hook on to, ...
to night, turning, and the stars blinked like a cat. we swam in the last trickle of champagne before we knew breastmilk

"that saw through
her clothes, under
her skin, all the way down
to the transparent
genes confessing."

The Forgotten Dialect Of The Heart (Jack Gilbert)

How astonishing it is that language can almost mean, and frightening that it does not quite ... What we feel most has no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses, and birds.

nothing

I am nothing.
I will never be anything.
I cannot wish to be anything.
Apart from that, I have in me all the dreams of the world.

F. Pessoa

Faulkner

I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet's, the writer's, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.

Bootstrapping

Bootstrapping, that’s what we do
It's about the time, time for adieu!

In Progress ...

I pick up a new papper,
review afew thoughts,
and a moment of insight:
aha! That's an interesting idea!

A war torn family,
traveling for days and nights,
landing in a abandoned village;
"Seems like this land is fertile," says the dad.

The son, excited,
with a surge of hope and a vision,
although vague, replies:
"shall we explore the land tomorrow morning?"

To which the old dad replies:
"causiously,
keeping in mind the landmines
that wars often leave behind!"

viva absurdita!

If I don’t engage in absurdism once in a while then I will fall into a philosophical quagmire of nihilism which sucks me into the vagueness of the moments. So, viva absurdita!

Proposal

A few thoughts I write

On the blank sheet of intentions

Like the marks on a sandy shore

Awaiting further contemplations

To create and to annihilate

Seasons gone in worldly abstentions

Seeking a wormhole, imagination

To the universe of elation!

WE'LL SEE AGAIN

We'll see the green leaves shake,
thirsty rivers laugh,
and cherries blossom... Read More

Tomorrow we'll see
Nights thinking the night
and thousands oppressed
claim for justice

Soon we'll see
unbreakable borders fall
and those innocent in the streets freed

Very soon we'll see
victims rise up,
embracing each other
while singing melodies of hope.

We'll part then,
with a blow of fresh liberty
With certainty and strength
You and me at the same pace

We'll see again,
Tomorrow we'll see
Soon we'll see
Very soon we'll see

We'll see...

Carry on!

To give up is to wither
But, a decision has been made
To the contrary
So, I have to carry,
Carry on, Carry on!

Ordinary

Certain stories do worth writing and others don’t. Those which do are called extraordinary. In our world, ordinary events are abundant and are considered mundane, however, every ordinary event is extra ordinary from someone’s prospective.
How does an ordinary summer day look?
The schoolyard of MIT, an arc-like seating structure designed by one the world’s most accomplished landscaping designer, surrounded by tall trees who solemnly observed generations of scientists walk passing them, carrying copies of the annals of mathematics and physics. Beyond those branches and leafs, where the clouds dance in a leafy frame of summerly sky is a white sphere that emits radio frequency waves, oblivious to the significance of days.
I take a moment to key in the code KVQF-VBDJ-067T at the drpepper.com to evaluate my chances of winning a 2010 Chevy Camaro. Now, that’s an extra ordinary event! Bear with me …. “Sorry but today is an ordinary day!”

Re: hello

What do I know of you?

An image, distant, far
A song on my Guitar …

Desires, Dissolve
Broken hearts, revive

No reason I seek
No justice, no critique

It’s the way of time;

To sculpture on ice,
To decide on a pair of dice!

Back fresh to the game,
Alas! it won’t be the same!

Far away!

Oh yeah, wanted to make a note of ones (life-event driven) personality and how remote one may be from the realities of human life and the society. One reason being that to ease our pain we often seek refuge in distance caves of abstraction! One day we open our eyes and we find out we are far way from home ... far away!

The Making of Sonnets

It was nice meeting You

I wonder if it was really (I mean really) nice meeting you! Or maybe it was just an ordinary event, in which case I would not be using the term 'nice'. But, maybe it was an ordinary event and I was using the term 'nice' as a matter of social etiquette!

becoming (by firstcomet)

A dream maker, a freelance heart
That’s what I negligently thought.

Your image, shadowed, dark;
To me, a gloomy season it did remark!

Looking back, you’re far
Far in history, out of sight ...

The chasm and the divide,

and the restlessness I can't hide!

Feeling guilty, of a hubris id
That I've become, out of being,

Being impressionable, being lost,

In a world immersed in lust!

My atomic clock (by firstcomet)

My kitchen and my living room are the same. And if you're not yet impressed, in how many kitchens have you seen an atomic clock hanging next to a water tap?! Kudos to the wonders of modern physics, especial thanks to the Dollar Store!

And what's up with the water tap-atomic clock rivalry? I noticed since yesterday dripping of the water has been synchronized! And yes, the atomic clock sometimes jolts along a single dimension of that spongy continuum; especially when I'm washing dishes!

Talking about sponges and living at the expense of others, somebody got to fix that dripping!

End of why

We are going back to basics again

Questions such as: who are you?

And what is your deal, is it all real?

You hit the bottom once a while

You bounce back, or just

Re-establish yourself along the bottom

It’s a never ending struggle

And struggles can get boring after a while

Just like …

When you swim against the currents

For just about too long!

Okay, tears tears, sigh sigh …

Enough is enough, end of why!

 

A Dream Within A Dream (by Edgar Allan Poe)

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

A Clear Midnight

THIS is thy hour O Soul,
thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art,
the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing,
pondering the themes thou lovest best.
Night, sleep, and the stars.

Walt Whitman

Confabulate

Am, am not, tick and tock, do and don’t, will and won’t, I invent, moment after moment, the I in me. What about what you see? I wonder, if you know, if you see, that I fabricated me, the will to be, a distinct entity, or just a con, the strawman’s son, willing to do, confabulate to construe, the urge to will, the will to do!

As Is

There is nothing magical here

Only occasional temporary traces

Of tango-like steps

Left on the snow white ground

Near the place where I

Occasionally lay down to

An intimate moment

And a soft music

Filling the air

with some particular magic;

Ah, Ah, facts, general, specific

do not make a big fuss about!

Sometime it’s sweet

Sometime it’s bloody

Sometime it makes sounds

Sometime it stares and smiles!

And then the next song

And then the next voice

And the breath-ins and the breath-outs

And the turn-lefts and the turn-rights ...

And then I try to follow

Those traces that intersect

And diverge before our time

Comes up, and I say:

I think it’s snowing again,

And I need to figure out

what color it is this time!

And you whisper “was that cum-

your emotional brain

or was that cum-

your logical brain?”

And then we both laugh!

An impulse (by firstcomet)!

She came late,
stayed over,
and left around the noon.
A few ectopic beats,
liberation from homeostasis,
and a red dress
leaning against my guitar-stand,
all that is left from that impulse.

Anjou Pear

Red Anjous now can be found on grocery produce counters from late September or early October through the spring months.

The best indication of ripeness for any pear is the thumb test: gentle thumb pressure near the stem will yield slightly when the pear is ripe.

Depending on their level of ripeness when purchased, it may take several days before they are ready to eat. The results, however, are well worth the wait. Red Anjous develop a mild, sweet flavor with very smooth texture and abundant juices when ripe.

La Petite Mort

Having been surrounded, I thought it was going be a real problem … spending the night in a hotel room, queen size bed, windows wide open to the anticipation of a warm sunny day, and two travelers having come hundreds of miles … just to come:

“the pleasures in this world,
soft breeze, soft
thighs, a bit of music,
words that make
a good sound …”

It might cause us to experience some real discomfort, a little death or La Petite Mort!

Signals

So many signals around Fortunate those who decode
Plenty points to be found Where does the secret abode
--Hafez

How do you really know?

I knew it, I knew it! Behind those gazing eyes there was something deeper; an anxious excitement, trying to play it safe while exploring, discovering, and prevailing.

Dancing to the winds
Of the heaven’s dreams,
Your hair of silky willow

You toss and turn
till your neck, finally
finely settles on the pillow

But, how do you really know?

Where does the hand become the wrist? Where does the neck become the shoulder? The watershed and then the weight, whatever turns up and tips us over that razor’s edge between something and nothing, between one and the other.
http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16875

"Like an outdated map my borders are changing"

What does it mean to be finite?

To live in a lake, and hide

From waves, sharks, ocean’s wide

To travel down the same creeks

To abide by the same rocks

Take a leap beyond the rim

In the ocean you shall swim

Going beyond everyday whim

Just to find yourself scream

Rejoicing your infinite dream!

Festivus&Kwanzaa

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Festivus

Kwanzaa - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

for or against

“If you want the truth to stand clear before you, never be 'for' or 'against'. The struggle between ‘for’ and ‘against’ is the mind’s worst disease.” - Sent-ts’an, 700 C.E. China

the master

"You may be keeping accounts, and presently you shall walk out of the door
that for so long has seemed to you the barrier of your ideals, and shall
find yourself before an audience, the pen still behind your ear, the ink
stains on your fingers, . and after a time the master shall say, 'I have
nothing more to teach you.' And now you have become the master ..

--Stanton Kirkham Dave

being a cynics

I recently set up a donation box in the main lobby of my dormitory to collect warm winter clothes for a local shelter. Today I saw my roommate donating a bag full of sweaters and shirt. The first think came to my mind was he’s getting rid of his old clothing. This thought was further reinforced with a piece of memory I had from his early Fall shopping spree. But, soon I realized I was labeling his actions as less than a noble act by attaching alternative motives to his maybe “wholly generous action”. Yes, I have become a cynic and I can’t find a way to escape from it! Why do I question people’s motive, and why do I give a higher weight to the less noble one? From a pragmatic point of view what difference it makes what the person’s motive is; all I’m doing is finding a match between a public need and individual’s desire to give away or to donate their belongings. There is no value judgment involved here!

 

Today

Yesterday is Already a Dream and Tomorrow But a Vision, But Today Well Lived Makes Every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness and Every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope!

How's it your fault?

But, how is it your fault,
When you're blind by default?
Or the wind that blows
And it makes you wipe your nose
Since it's cold out there
And a shelter is nowhere near!

My Heart (by firstcomet)

My heart,
I see time
finding it's way,
through my veins,
my hands, my face,
And alas, my soul!


My heart, remember?
Taste of bygone seasons;
Apple ciders,
Hot Chocolates,
Mango lassies,
And Milky-way punches?


My heart,
I hear you,
Ticking, embracing,
The weight of time,
The senility of future,
And the amnesia of now!


Will you be there
Next midsummer night?
To share the scent of delight,
To wake a quiescent star,
To sing a song on your guitar?

A Philosophy of Learning and Doing:

 

We can't learn everything at once. We can't do everything at once. We can neither learn nor do effectively without thinking about what we've done. So pick a goal that presents itself and try to meet it. When you have, stop and rest. Think about what you have done and see what you've learned from it. Then, after your mind is calm and thoughtful, go after another goal.                                     And again. And again. And again

 

To pass another day (by firstcomet)

Bear with me, until tomorrow,

Or sometime near,

Meanwhile, do something

Shave your beard,

Raise those eyebrows,

Put a nostrum on those wrinkles,

The snake oil, the dead-sea spa,

clean the wax your ears

Then just relax ...

To fool another self,

To pass another day!

Conflicts

This is a new topic that touches a very deep behavioral trait of those grew up under rigid educational or parenting systems. In particular, the more of a conformist an individual in such systems is the more stress he/she will face.

One definition of stress is the amount of energy one spends staying in an uncomfortable situation. In this sense the pain caused by physical exercise is a stressor, and the heavier your bench-press weights are the higher the stress.

The problem with growing up in rigid systems is that the individual has to constantly flight against his/her natural impulses. Ironically, the smarter you are and thus the better your performance record within the system, the more expectations are placed on you to conform to the norms. Therefore, the more constrained and stressful your life becomes. Eventually, you become your own worst critic and in a constant state of worry about how others might react to your actions.

How much you’ll miss out by not exploring the boundaries of your perception of properness?

Stanley Milgram

"My only pleasure is to sit on a curbstone and watch the sky for an occasional bird flying south for the winter. I am not used to being so very much alone, and I can think of a few sweet faces with whom I wouldn't mind sharing my pillow when the hour for sleep comes around.... I'm listless, uneasy, dissatisfied, bored and fed up. I suffer from status insecurity, incipient mononucleosis, and sexual privation. I'm the little man looking around for some totalitarian movement I can join." –Stanley Milgram

Maturation

The rain drops dissolving the ice cubes of longing

And the orange colored mangos dropping

In a sudden season of maturation!

 

Imagine!

… that the brain needs to categorize. And yet, imagination stems from the ability to break this categorization, to see things not for what one thinks they are, but for what they might be!

1) Perception->Categories->bombard with new experience

2) Fear response->stress, group-think, reframing events

3) Social intelligence-> familiarity and reputation, iconoclasts need connectors, butterflies do not change the ecosystem of the jungle ... trees do.

Ego (by firstcomet)

Just as my toast popped out
out of mind, my ego unwittingly dropped out
I bended over to pick up the junk
Just to put it back where it belonged
But then I saw two mice
Pulling it on opposite sides
So, I reached to my plate
And picked the only slice of bread
Split into half; one for Tom the other to Ed
Then, they both fled
And so I was left,
With the insipid ego instead!

foliage

The oaks, maples, birches, and black gums are all on full blaze and the squalling firemen are close by. Soon the foliage will be gone and the acetone adulterated fall rain will wash away all these dazzle of the scenic roads of this great state.

 

The force field (by firstcomet)

I thought, beyond this point
The road is barricaded, barred
No other eureka, no ecstasy
My share the stillness of a stale yore
Inculcated in the essence of now!

Captured in a force fields
Pushed to the left, then right
Prone and then Supine
Between us an empty space
Empty as the expression on my face

It’s your move I say
It’s your reaction, you may
It’s our interaction, you weigh
I nod, then wonder
Which force caused this, I ponder

Reflecting upon your face
And the certitude of your faith
And the strength in your voice
I wonder if I had any choice …

Hands to the left, hands to the right,
You wave at me good night!

Out in the open I see
The twinkling starts to be
Pulled to the left, then to right
via an incredible cosmic might

Austere but urged is the world
And thus it’s constantly twirled
Days after days,
Years after years,
Or so it appears!

David Foster Wallace - Commencement Speech at Kenyon University

David Foster Wallace - Commencement Speech at Kenyon University

The Fog

The western rationale has stripped us from our value system and has not yet provided us with a substitute that runs or can potentially grow as deep within our psych; the only exception being science which provided us with a slow and tortuous road towards our fundamental quests (unfortunate is our dependence on our only source of inspiration to pay for our grocery bills). Materialism and sensualism has been offered as alternatives, but fall short in the grand meaning-ometer scale, in addition to being a game biased to the advantage of the westerners. There still remains those moments of emotional outbursts to fill the vacuum receptacle of our souls. So, we remain nostalgic and unsatisfied with the knowledge that the roads to past is not retraceable and the road ahead is covered by an impenetrable fog.

Manchego cheese - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Manchego cheese - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia: "Manchego cheese"

A tribute to the ignored:

You ignored me in the elevator because I wasn't your destination floor.
You ignored me in the corridor because you didn't have to pass me to get to your office.
You ignored me in the supermarket because i wasn't your favorite brand.
You ignored me while riding the bus, because I wasn't your destination station.
You ignored me in your poetry, because I didn't rhyme with the rest of your lines.
You ignored me while looking out the window, because i was below your field of vision.
You'll always ignore me since I'm always available, I'm always reachable, and always there.
You ignored me just because you're never content with where you are, what you want, and that which is at your presence.
Will you stop by someday? Will you touch me sometime? Will you glimpse at me just for a moment?
I am the flower in a corner of your resident's backyard.
I'm a butterfly in larva.
I am the painting on the other side of the wall.
I am the candy ready to be unwrapped.
I am the hour that just passed you by.
I am the music of the silence,
The flavor of the tasteless,
The fragrance of the pure air,
The essential ingredient of nothingness,
The quintessential essence of the ignored!

The Dreamland (by firstcomet)!

Looking at the clock, going tick and toc … I want to start a new poem. Then I’m reminded of the absurdity of lines, verses, and rhymes. Somehow we collectively managed to reduce the complexity of human life into a series of economical and political equations wherein poetry has no place. In reality, we have become obsessed with utility and the commercial relationship of "me" with "them", and I’m no outsider to this world. Flowing smoothly in the background is the music of a forgotten yore. It’s a nostalgic theme, though. It seems like art, in general, can eternally leech off sadness and despair. The crashing of the symbols and the march of the battle filed goes contrary to the state of the modern man’s mind; depressed and sinking ever deeper into slothfulness. The curse of the modern man is repetition:

The feather pillow on the bed
Head on the pillow,
Bird in the head,
Flying to the dreamland!

The clock is ticking,
A distance light is blinking,
And I’m thinking …
Another day has gone!

And the breathe-ins
And the breathe-outs
And the roll-lefts
And the roll-rights

And before I know,
The ticking clock
and the blinking light
Are all gone!

The catamaran standing tall,
The Great Wall,
And the Niagara Fall,
I hear them call!

The caul is torn
The baby is born!
It’s Time to sail
To the land of whales!

And then the ticking clock,
And the bright light,
And the apples jam delight;
A new day has begun!

The conversationalist:

Do we ask questions to extract meaningful information from others? Not necessarily, sometimes we ask questions to smooth out social contacts by eliminating those awkward moments of silence. To what category the question “Where are you from” belongs to? What kind of information does a person’s nationality covey about him/her? What are the characteristics of a lazy conversationalist? How about the question “Tell me about your background”? It sounds more intimate and an answer to this question tends to be more informative.

 

Reflections on expectations

Our natural desire to fit in is at it's climax in college parties. You step
into an space with people engaged in various acts of socializing. You take a
few steps forward and then to the sides ... Your mind being in an
anticipatory state waiting impatietnly to come ... a familiar face, an
smile, an invite. Hands, touching hands, reaching out, touching me, touching
you ...

bonding

We're bound to bond over calamity;
Shedding light over our shared humanity

underappreciated

The image in the mirror looked me in the eye,
Then she said you're underappreciated,
Do you know why?

Incredibly cute and unsung,
I muttered, while taking a sigh!

A unifying theme

We all have our own unique personal histories, cultural heritage, and aspirations. But, when the sun sets and all the classrooms and businesses close down, its 12:01am and you're thinking just one more day has passed and it doesn't necessarily mean you're one more day closer to graduation. Pretty soon (for a typical graduate student it means in 2-3 hours) you have to go
to sleep and put the alpha man in you to rest for the next 6:00 hours (if you're lucky). In those honest and pure hours what is that one thing that can bring us all together? The plunger at your building's front-desk!

I think this says something about our essential humanity.

Sushi

Breaking away (by firstcomet)

All will is the essence of this mass,

Austere but urged, like lavas,
beneath sober mountains.

impressioned persistently,
years-after-years,

Relieved in a coming encounter,
a place of respite, far a way!

Missing

I came across this poem on some website by a person calling him/herself the emogirl and I thought it was a lovely piece! One of those poems that fills us up with a sense of solidarity, stemming from an affirmation of our very humanity, and simultaneously empties us from within ... ready to be filled up again ... or as poet Robert Hass would probably have it framed
"merely companionable".

I MISS U

as the SUN
misses sunflower during winter time........

as an icy Road
misses the warmth of summer time..........

as a Grown up
misses the time when he started singing his very first nursery rhyme.........

as a dark Night
misses the twinkling moon light...........

as a Lover
misses sleep during his long restless night........

as a wounded Knight
misses the will to win during his fight.........

as a Blind
misses the chance of seeing a dim light.............

as a Prisoner
misses the precious moments of being free...........

as a Fish
misses it's resting place in the quiet big sea..........

as an Orphan
misses the face of his affectionate mom........

as a Widow
misses the warmth of her husband's arms.......

as a lonely sick Man
misses the good company who used to ease his painful endless harms....

Splitting a moment (by firstcomet)

Thin is the glass window of my emotion
these days, I go about moments,
split into halves, the ego in full sail,
The heart, battered and frail,
The faltering wind blows,
Taking us where? who knows!

Fragments of time (by first comet)

Can you break a moment into halves?
A half to break down,
another to laugh?

Or am I doomed to only one;
the one that I'd like to shun?

I guess I will nerver know ...
Such is moments' flow!

The weight of time (by firstcomet)

Why is it that hours make my shoulders tense?
Why is that dealines make my schedule condense?
It think that time is heavy and it makes sense!

It ain't gonna rain (by firstcomet)!

The weather man said it will rain
And it added to my pain!
He didn't tell us when
Just suggested indoor we remain.

I took a deep breath and said amen!
And then I canceled the date
And yielded to my uncompromising fate .

And even though,
Getting shot by a sudden tunder strike,
In the middle of the Charles,
With her by my side,
Was something I very much liked,
In the interest of her safety
By the rules of nature, I had to abide!

One rainy day (by firstcomet)!

Hello You!
The Postcard I mailed,
I wonder if you've got!
You might have thought .
I Forgot!
But, two cards I sent,
To fool my fate up to 75 percent!

I hope all is well!
And if one rainy day,
You hear the bell, or a yell,
By the residence you dwell,
It's gonna be me,
Yes, I've got your address baby!
And maybe, only maybe,
You'll drop your key,
After my extended plea!
And have me over
For a cup of tea!

I might be rather wet
But do not fret!
Just don't forget
To have your key handy
And I know, Your window,
Will be ajar,
Since You Don't own

That machine that blows
So You don't keep your windows close!
And that's why your room, always
Smells like a bouquet of rose!

...
In progress!

Divo - Regresa A Mi

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yay4W9hkJJM

The Beep Beep Song

Framework (by firstcomet)

Synthesize a box,

to sojourn dynamically;

ears and eyes wide open!

And break away,

before the end of the day!

Hyperion's Song of Destiny

A place to rest isn't given to us.
Suffering humans
decline and blindly fall
from one hour to the next,
like water thrown
from cliff to cliff,
year after year,
down into the Unknown.

--Excertps from Hyperion's Song of Destiny, Poems of Friedrich Hölderlin

Jungle Rule #1:

It is very important to excel.

Californication (TV series) - Wikiquote

Californication (TV series) - Wikiquote: "Here we are, she thought, at the edge of the world - the very edge of western civilization and all of us are so desperate to feel something... anything... that we keep falling into each other and fucking our way toward the end of days."

The best way out is always through. -Robert Frost

We are continually faced with a series of great opportunities brilliantly disguised as insoluble problems. -John W. Gardner

On limits of knowing

The idea that a first-person narrative story being biased by the narrator's limitted awareness of the whole picture.

Romeo and Juliet (by firstcomet)

It was twenty of us or maybe more.
When we arrived at the shore,
the beach was like a seamless décor.
But soon as the frisbees began to soar,
impressionist forms began to born!

There were pearls to unfold
There were scenes to behold
There were stories to be told
But then I felt something cold;
A nostalgic existential breeze!

Tears were falling
and I was on my knees!

Where the island met the sea,
in a moment of ecstasy,
too short lived an encounter
left a trace on the shore
that no traveler can ignore!

Fly away (by firstcomet)!

A self without a wall;
like a balcony with no railing,
encourages a free fall.

Don't be afraid of failing,
the man without a wall!

Take a deep breath,
when the breath is caught,
between the lines of your thought.

Keep going till you have forgot
what all along you had sought:

A familiar face, an invite,
sharing a smile,
ending this fight,
catching a glimpse of that light,
escaping the everyday trite!
The conquest of a dream,

Good night!

Art of Lucian Freud 1947-1985 - Bach Cello Suite 2 (Prelude)

I lost you!

Who am I?
A new definition to be defined,
To be associated with a word,
To be used in a sentence,
That will be uttered only once;
My life!

Union (by firstcomet)

Now, still but fresh is my nostalgia
With cold hands I stand
Gazing at a hot cup of tea near me.
And the steamy swirling dervishes;
An ancient practice of rising to sublimity.
If I was that single thread of hair
That sets us apart, the cause of my despair
Although closer, still couldn’t bear
To engage in this clandestine affair
Hidden from me, hidden from my heart.
Sentimental I might, my expressions trite
Maybe I’m just the remnants of that aged tea
Sojourned still, my pals joined the sea!

The Path

Perseverance, Rebellion, Depression, Resilience, Realization, Confrontation, Liberation ....

1:46am

I think I'm tired.

In Pogress...!

Jiddu Krishnamurti, Lobsang Tonden (Carlo), Dalai Lama, James Allen

A discrete life! (by firstcomet)

That fragile muted mass
Dragged out of slumber
Lumbered to the point of exit
His reward: so fresh a breeze!
The long alley of Sunny Diners
His prize: scrambled eggs and cheese!
Flower trees in a perpetual dance,
Dandelions set free by a sudden sneeze!
In this minutely discretized interval
Abound were the rewards and
Numerous were the tease!

...

Sharing (by firstcomet)

What does it mean to be finite?
To live in a pond, and hide
From waves, sharks, ocean’s wide
To travel down the same creeks,
To abide by the same rocks …

The cold long winter left me weary
The alpha men’s ideals has made me leery
I want to hatch this shell and be exposed
To break the sphere I’ve been enclosed

To experience the old familiar afresh
To redefine my coordinates on this mesh
To travel down many creeks like a fish
Or like a flying kite that makes a swish

To take a leap beyond the rim
In the ocean I shall swim
Going beyond the everyday whim
Just to find myself scream
Rejoicing an infinite dream!

With you I want to share a tear my dear
I want this life o’vanity to disappear
I want to have this foggy head all clear
I can no longer run this show on fear …

Gryzb and Chandler's 10-step guide to getting tough

1. Don't smile
Smiling gives someone permission to think you don't really mean what you say as you have this big grin on your face
2. Stand your ground
Backing off is wishy-washy. Standing your ground gives weight to your intention. This means both physically and verbally
3. Tell the truth
Let the other person know what you are feeling. Let them know you aren't comfortable with what they are doing
4. Agree when it's unexpected
If someone tells you you're being silly, agree. They have no place to go after that. "You're a bit touchy." "You're right, I am." It takes the wind out of their sails
5. Don't point fingers
If you intend to tell someone you don't like their behaviour, start sentences with how you feel, not what's wrong with them. Pointing an accusatory finger will only make them more defensive
6. Make up a list of handy excuses
This will get you out of situations long enough to see clearly what's going on before you put yourself back in the fray
7. Change your mind whenever you want to
You have the right to change your mind, whether it's two minutes, two hours or two months after the fact. There will be times when you don't want to honour your commitments
8. Keep things short and sweet
Gabbling won't help, it just gives the other person rope to hang you with
9. Don't engage
Never apologise or explain. Don't supply fuel for someone to use against you
10. Get your 'no' in quickly
Set your marker right at the beginning of the discussion. You can always change your mind later, but if you say it fast, it's out on the table and can't be ignored