In Winter's Grasp

Alone I stand, naked and bare
Beside a well-tread road
My clothes (when I need them most
In this shivering cold)
Have been scattered by the wind
Beyond my reach

Travelers pass
And remark on my beauty
(My bare limbs, covered in snow)
With no regard for my feelings
My pain

So year after year
I must brave the Winter alone
Drawing courage from my rings
(One for each year I've survived)

And if I'm still here in Spring
(When Mother awakens)
I'll get pretty new green clothes
And another ring for my finger
Another year to go

Guitar

I'll use the strings for shoelace
I can play golf with the neck
I can keep things in the body
Like playing cards from a deck

I can break it into pieces
And then glue it back together
I can leave it outdoors
And it'll dampen from the weather

I can put it through a vampire's heart
And turn him into dust
I can leave it in a basement
To make it smell of must

I can paint it purple
I can hang it on a wall
I can lie and say it whistles
And I hope it does not fall

And of course, I do suppose
If you agree to pay
I could hire a tutor
And finally learn to play

Blah...school tomorrow

Wow. That post from last night is weird. I barely remember writing it, and I don't know wtf it's about. Weird....

I just got back from the Physics C midterm. It seemed pretty good, especially the multiple choice Part 1 stuff. I'm not looking forward to school tomorrow. Sleeping late is so nnnnnnnnniiiiiiiiiiccccccccceeee.

In other news, I'm probably going to Binghamton University next year. Anyone else planning on going there?

Anyway, people, if you're reading this, please leave comments! Even if it's just to tell me my blog sucks, I want to hear it!

Jane Colbain

This has very little deep meaning. Mostly, it was fun to write, 'cause it's weird and has the rhythm of Jack & Jill. :)

Jane Colbain
Forgot her name
And lost her face soon after

Sister Sue
Of room four-two
Could not contain her laughter

Jane Colbain
May go insane
And in her shame Sue did bask

So poor Jane
She stole Sue's name
And hides behind a green mask

Buffy Library Public Service Announcement

For a school project I had to do community service and then make a public service announcement promoting it. I helped out at several public library events, and made a video in which Giles (the librarian from the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer) does a public service announcement about the library.



Note: I don't own the video clips taken from Buffy the TV show.

The Great Experiment

He wakes up at the same time He does every morning and steps out of bed. Groggily He wanders into the bathroom and stares at His countenance in the mirror. Backing up a few steps, He glances at the rest of His body, aged and ageless, average and sublime. He mumbles something to Himself, and then gets on with the business of freshening up.

In the kitchen He pours Himself a cup of coffee. He takes His time drinking it, as He does every morning, and eats some toast as well, to delay the inevitable, as He does every morning.

He steps outside, barefoot and naked, to check the mailbox. Of course, He knows that there will be no mail today, just as there was no mail yesterday, and will be none tomorrow. He always knows, and He knows all. Doesn’t He?

Finally, He gets down to His business. He enters the house and closes the front door behind Him. Entering the laboratory, He dons a pair of white gloves. He picks up His clipboard and reads the first item. He pulls aside one of the many sliding doors, behind which are hundreds of tiny jars. He picks one up and examines its blue-green contents. Opening a hatch on the top, He sticks His finger in and wiggles it.

A hurricane in Kansas.

He replaces the jar and checks the tiny box on His clipboard. He picks up another jar and prods its contents as well.

A single mother in Brazil wins the lottery.

Check. As He picks up a third sample, He sighs deeply. This planet’s ordinarily blue-green complexion is turning a sickening crimson at an alarming rate.

He opens the jar’s hatch, dumps its contents, and fills it to the brim with soapy water. After a few rinses, He places the jar on an empty base. He presses the button labeled BB. He’s been doing this job forever, but starting over never gets any easier.

He puts an X on the clipboard. Someday, He knows He’ll make one that’ll last. Utopia can’t be that elusive, right?

Dream

I know not your name
Yet I’ve seen your face
Night after night
In our dream-space

I reach out with my mind
Come with me, take my hand
Beneath Morpheus’ gaze
On a beach of dream-sand

The sand is warm
The sun is low
Your pale skin
Appears to glow

Our bodies touch
Our palms do meet
The sun is gone
So we make our own heat

But the tide does rise
Sand slips away
Grain by grain
We wake to a new day

The day drags on
My memory fades
The image of
Your face degrades

Perhaps some day
I’ll see your face
Remember it from
Our dream-place

Will you know me
Or continue unthrown
Meaning that
I dreamt alone

Chris

Chris is eight years of age. He enjoys listening. The school teachers tell him things that strum and pluck the strings of his mind. His classmates discuss what they are going to do when school lets out, and he hears everything they say. All trains of thought are filed away so they can be resumed later. Chris never stops thinking.

Chris is fourteen years of age. He enjoys reading. The books talk about people like Chris. Or rather, they talk about people like Inner Chris. Because inside of Chris is Inner Chris, who does anything he wants, and talks to whomever he wants, and says whatever is on his mind. Inner Chris’ mind-strings are always vibrating.

Chris is eighteen years of age. He enjoys seeing. When Chris sees people, he can pretend he is standing near those people. And talking to those people. At night, Chris thinks about what he says, and what they say to him. In bed, Chris likes to stare at the shadows on the walls. Sometimes, he can make the shadows move. He wishes the shadows could talk, because he knows that they know more than he ever will.

Chris is twenty years of age. He enjoys nothing. The shadows move always, now. They don’t talk, but that doesn’t matter, because Chris already knows what they would say. During the day, Chris can close his eyes and see the shadows whenever he wants. Chris keeps his eyes closed a lot lately.

Chris is thirty years of age. He enjoys dreaming. And that’s all he does.

Ticktock

Looking out of the amber lens, you can see your entire life up until tonight. But you can’t reach the controls.

You walk over to the buttons and dials and levers, but there aren’t any labels. And it takes so long to push and pull and twist them, and it’s so hard. And you’re afraid of what will happen if you do.

So you lie back on your couch and stare through the amber lens. Life is peaceful here, and you think so much, yet speak so little.

But still the clock ticktocks, ticktocks, ticktocks. And everyone and everything gets older, except for you. Ticktock, ticktock. And you will be the last to die, but that’s alright, because you never were alive. Ticktock.

Welcome Earthlings!

Hello, planet Earth. I come from the distant planet Mohawk - somewhere in the vicinity of Betelgeuse. It is populated by the peaceful Mohawkians, who (aside from the cannibalistic shrubberies) are the only form of intelligent life on the planet. I have come to Earth on a mission of good will and mohawkery.

On this blog, I will post about various things, including my interests and hobbies (computer programming, writing, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, etc.) I hope you enjoy it!