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ABOUT zwarg.blog CATEGORIES MAIN ARCHIVES 1999(14) [+] 2000(3) [+] 2001(4) [+] 2002(18) [+] 2003(159) [+] 2004(108) [+] 2005(129) [+] 2006(38) [+] 2007(23) [+] 2008(8) [+] 2009(3) [+]United States vs. Iraq
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Wednesday, September 15 1999
...another hopeful return to academia. Readmission to learning conventional wisdom through unconventional means. Another welcome introduction to faces which have brazen themselves in my memory. The pleasant evenings and late summer sunshine welcome procrastination and benign accomplishment. Of what? Nothing special... Another flurry of sociality and flirtatiousness...fueled by the hope and optimism which pervades our vision of the future. The time of my life...the wind seems mallifluous and the lachrymose weather has patiently waited beyond the horizon... Pleasant people are paramount. Saturday, August 14 1999what madness pervades your body,
my sick friend...
The center of the universe is changing.
First it was the job I needed for the summer. Then it was the ride I needed to Providence. Then it was the long drive home, and the miles and miles of humming pavement. Next, the blowoff summer job that I got in one week. Now alternate between career job and blowoff job. Now it's just my career. And then the universe stood still. As I lay here watching the sky reel around me, stars translating their messages in one direction across the night sky, while the clouds are in retrograde against the star's slow waltz across the sky. These trials are infinite, and their meaning infinitely small. It's time to step back, and watch the world through the eyes which were delegated to me. No more filters for this world, no more hearing what I want to hear. The center of the universe has been removed, and now I'm the only power in my life. The center of the universe is changing. Wednesday, July 28 1999The circle of life that we all know about and we all have heard about is quite magnificent when observed directly. Upon the observation of a single tree, simultaneously existing in two forms, the dead and the living, solicits a feeling of awe. The large, hard envelope of the deceased branches reached out in a brittle desperation, as if the sunlight slowly had been dimmed over the years. The barkless limbs suspended themselves on the feeble strength of decaying fibers...barely hanging on. From within the casing grew a younger tree, full of green, lustrous and radiant. Expanding throughout the hollowed tree was its younger self, flourishing in the identical spot. Magnificent. Wednesday, July 07 1999Have you ever seen the clouds reach over the mountains, like children's fingers over a ledge which is...just...a...little...too...tall? The whispy hands grasp the mountains, and peers over at all of us, watching us, and wondering. What IS this? Or does it watch me? See me scoot around in these crude vehicles, travelling on the scars which stretch across the plains. Watch them exude fumes which poison us as we wait in rush hour traffic. Watch us, and watch me struggle. Then watch me leave... Friday, June 18 1999"Welcome home, my dear friend..." said the planes of fields, rolled out like rich green carpeting. "It's a pleasure to see you again..." shouted the clouds, inflating in dramatic mountains of white. "Where ya been, stranger?" asks the yellow sunshine, creeping through the clouds...not sure if it's really me? "We've missed you..." whispered the silent foothills, reaching high as a breaking tsunami. "...so very, very much." continued the mountains, their tired peaks still white from worrying. But only one of you didn't want me to return..."Run away, dear...do not come back...you don't want to see what has befallen upon your loved State." Why wind, why? Please, don't push me away... Tuesday, May 11 1999
I've decided to write somthing insultingly simple.
I lost my home. I can't fucking believe. Some bastards with guns and explosives ripped out the symbol. They pulled on it long distance from Sprint with their dime a minute and bullet a hundredth of a second rate. Yanked it out and dragged it across the heartland of America. They dragged it through the dusty death that takes the flowers, and they dragged it over the hills of the Dakotas, where my heart watched heaven reach down and grasp hell by the balls. They took my heart, my home, and my kitchen sink when they decided to open up on their classies. Take this you sonofabitch! Take your semi-automatic hellion and give me my peaceful Whitebread Back! Sugar coat my memories and let me feel the warm sunshine of those balmy sixty degree summer days. Let me remember the time when Colorado was as uncorrupt as the peaceful America we love. Friday, April 30 1999My home was a beautiful place, a place of summertime charcoal grills, and starky white and blue winter contrast. In this short life of mine, I hold my memories of my home as pinnacles of acheivement. Those were the golden days. I do not know what my home is going to be like now. A town of raging killers, weapon fanatics, or press-conference junkies. Who has taken over my home, and claimed in in the name of their internation conglomerate corporation and partners, assoc. Broadcast this alienation to the nation, and harrass my neighbors on the airwaves in London. Where is my home? What is it that I can say shaped me to be who I am? My home of maniacle killers? Or the beauty of the state in which I was chosen to reside? The friends and family of my sheltered white suburbanite life? Or the angelic snowfall, lancing summer sunshine, blinding blue sky, and sleepy silence of the drowsy mountains? May my home please be what I remember, please? Thursday, April 22 1999The home I remember was a serene place of tranquility and peacefulness. I memory golden around the edges, and sweet in the mind. Everything was beautiful, even when it wasn't, and nothing was ever wrong. But things change, I suppose. My whitebread town has become the center of attention of the nation, as a pair of psychos went wild. It made me re-evaluate what my home is. How much have I been willing to gloss over because it's my "Home"? Am I subjected to blindness by my deprivation of nativity? Or am I speaking in words too large? Where is my home? Monday, April 05 1999What is this terrible deed that I have done? Have I clubbed baby seals? Have I raped and pillage the metropolis of your hometown? Have I burned ants with lenses? Have I somehow slipped by the Nuremburg trials? Have I slept with your sister and brother? Am I compulsively derogatory? Am I a lost bastard child? Am I of a bloodline which does not compliment your fleshtone? Am I Stalin, Alexander, Ceasar, Hitler? No. Do you know what it is? I am not affectionate towards you, so you feel justified imposing these paradigms upon me. Do I support strain which is umeasurable? You have given me my burden, now watch me carry it, and carry it well. Friday, April 02 1999Alright. What is going on here. I don't think so. So what is the problem? Me? You? I think its the combination. I cannot compromise, even for you. That's who I am. I cannot change that, and I do not want to change that. I will not change for you. I will not grow for you. I am a solid, singular force in my life, and I do not need you to follow me or question me. But am I an absolute to myself? Saturday, March 13 1999It seems that the most profitable choice is the non-preferred. Monday, February 22 1999I wonder what I'll do after school. Will I work for someone at home? Will I work? Will I live at home? Will I become successful? I build these walls around me. These walls protect me from the harsh elements outside. The cold biting wind, the massive heat waves, the blowing dust and rancid smells. But these walls also sheild me from the warm sunshine, the cool breeze, the scents of sweet springtime in the air. |
