Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Rocky Elsom

Rocky Elsom is the one of the best rugby flankers in the world right now. Just youtube him and check it out.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Left Overs

Found this in my notes from 4 March 09. I remember being in the throws of self-doubt at the time, questioning my life and my choices. I re-read The Stranger. It was bad. Then spring happened and all was right with the world.

Cyclical Square?

The extistential crisis -how do you reconcile
What You Preach with What You Practice?
Day to day, tomorrow after tomorrow, until the lost.
But by now, you have amounted to nothing -
You are more a friend than a father,
And all your work is a hypocritical hoax which
Cannot be mended.

Break! Free yourself, free your mind.
Who are you but a
Cog in a larger wheel
(of Fate perhaps?)
That turns and rotates, mimicking
The Sun, the Moon, the Starts.

After all, aren't you just space dust anyway?
Aren't you
No More Than Dirt?
Look down
Under your soles to find your soul-
Nirvana is under your feet.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Rainy Day Jams

As a preface, for some reason my sweatshirt smells like old milk and I don't know why. But all my other sweatshirts are in the wash and it is cold so I'll have to deal.

And now more original "poems."

Weena, May We Never Forget.

Rain falls and I'm stuck in the house.
No worries -
It's only the start of spring, "Rain before beauty,"
And May holds open the gate for April to enter the garden.

"Together we'll walk and admire the butterflies,"
She'd say. "And the daffodils and the rhododendron."
Which always reminds me of The Time Machine by Wells
And then the future, eight hundred thousand years worth,
When men are midget-cows
And matches and cigarettes are kept in the museum rather then at the gas station.

And how together they walked in that future garden,
Near the rhododendron.
But the rain keeps me in with the dog,
Seemingly drugged by age, asleep on my hands,
Shifting my worn bulk and occasionally sighing.
But no worries, it's only the start of spring.


Emily Dickinson wrote thousands of poems
Homer is famous for two
There are one-hit wonders in literature too
Those who toil their whole lives for an
Oprah's Book Club sticker
(And those who get is posthumously)
And who decides what's tomorrow's classics?
Oprah's Ph. D. in literature.

A Night to Remember.

From the time we're born we're special;
Preschool conditions individuality, high school destroys free thought.
Remember finger painting? Snack? Recess?
Remember lockers and gym class and prom -
The epitome of cookie-cutter pre-collegiate cotillion,
The following vain attempts to continue the species,
The fumblings in dark, drunken closets, the first vomit.
Enduring, subconscious, glossed-over, gold-plated memories.
We were stars. We were heroes.
For one night we were individuals again. Then,
Like the ravages of Alzheimer's or too much whiskey,
We were forgotten.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Get Freaked Out

Great song, creepy clown video.

Monday, February 9, 2009

A List of Memorable Places I Have Thrown Up Because I Was Either Sick or Drunk

1. My first bedroom (sick)
2. My second bedroom (sick)
3. The hall to the bathroom in my parent's house (sick)
4. The bathroom in my parent's house (drunk)
5. Tina's bed (drunk)
6. Wolfe Two men's room (drunk)
7. Wolfe Two women's room (drunk)
8. Off the back porch into a birdbath at Brian Ave for Rugby Rookie Day (drunk)
9. The Wasteland, or TCNJ's famed Rugby House. Sites include: basement, my bedroom there, outside, the second floor bathroom (drunk)
10. The Octagon backyard (drunk)
11. Off the fire escape outside my bedroom in The Thunderdome (drunk)
12. My bedroom and the bathroom in The Thunderdome (sick and drunk)
13. On my ex-girlfriend (sick and hilarious)
14. Billy Donovon's downstairs bathroom (drunk)
15. Outside the Windmill in Red Bank in front of the large window and a man eating his dinner (drunk)

Sunday, February 8, 2009

The Best Commercial Ever

Keep the Arts in Education. With coming budget cuts and reductions, the Arts will certainly be the fist to go. But it is Art that gives us hope in dark times.

"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, 'O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.' That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse." - Dead Poets Society

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Sketches 2

The place was pretty empty and there was a choice of table or booth.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Water and coffee please."

", sweetened iced tea for a change."

"Ok. Milk or cream?"

"Milk is fine."

She finished jotting and walked away.

"How was work? Get the exams done?"

"Yeah, I've got one set of essays left to read. I want to get to the gym today and I have to be back at school at 6:40 to judge a competition."

"What for?"

"Rock Band."

"Any good bands playing? Maybe I'll come listen."

"No, it's a video game. Kids play fake instruments and pretend to be rock stars."

"So they fake it."

"Yeah. You want my lemon? I hate lemon in my water."

Taking the lemon, he put it on the rim of his glass and began stirring with the straw. I mixed the milk slowly into the coffee.

"Ok so I've been figuring." He grabbed a napkin. "You have a pen?"

I fumbled a black felt tip from my pocket.

"Here's what you're looking at in bills." He was writing as he was talking. "Phone, electric, gas, insurance for the place, insurance for the car, food, gas, savings, and car. First off," he was pointing at the word "CAR" with the tip, "how much is this a month?"

"Three twelve."

"What're you having?"

"You go first."

"Ham and cheese omelette. Can you put sausage in it too?"

She nodded. "Toast and potato?"

"Wheat and home fries if you still have them please."

"I'll have a western omelette with white and a side of sausage. Ok so figure hundred dollars a week for food." He wrote down $400. "One fifteen for phone, gas and electric," he drew a bracket and wrote $200 next to it. "Are you filling the tank once a week?"

"Not really."

"How much was the last fill?"

"About twenty-five."

"So say seventy-five. It depends on where you live. House insurance maybe twelve thousand a year." He wrote $100. "Car insurance one twenty-five. I'll leave this blank." He meant "Savings."

He had always been good at math, as far as I could remember, and had it added in seconds, column by column like they teach in school. He turned the paper toward me. It was not as much as expected.

"Here you go, ham, cheese, and sausage and western."

* * * * *

"I make this," took the paper, added two paychecks together, "a month."

He subtracted the previous amount. "Then this is what you'd have left to pay the mortgage."
That figure was also smaller than expected.

"Don't forget that you'll need a down payment and a couple thousand for closing costs." He looked at me. "You're really ready to do this, huh?"

"Yes, I am."

"Can I take that for you?"

"You're in a good position, you're making money, you have a job, you're putting it in the bank. When we moved out we didn't have any savings and neither of us had steady jobs. We had a little cause we just got married, but it took us seven years to buy a house.

"You know you're not being forced out or anything. You can have people over if you want, that's not a problem. Did something happen? You seem hellbent on moving out. Was it driving Nani the other day?"

"No, nothing happened, it's not that." I looked away. "I set a goal for myself and I want to be out before Ali's done with school."

"And know there's no problem with staying past that goal."

"I want to move out. Staying past that goal turns us into a sit-com." Laughter. Way to diffuse the situation.

"Take that when you're ready."

He started playing the trombone with the check, forgetting his glasses in the truck.

"OK, you ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."