10.10.00    an end draws near and recedes
a thorough ending
though not of expectation
the days shimmer and shift
memory expands into great dunes

sometimes i remember those who created a great meaning for themselves
within the clockworkings of my insides... it is effective, affective,
though rarely overwhelming. not much is overwhelming this day.
sunset sighs.
dusk stills.
the sinking teeth of season's end.
no longer bear upon the senses with necessity.
for who will thrill in the falling semi-perfect equations
of miniscule icy-ness with me now?
and who shall turn, childlike, into the drifts
to create dreams...
figures with earthen eyes and dead tinder arms?
shadows of angelic ideology from a dreamy movement of arms, legs?
and who, who... shall attack..
gallantly slushed spheres upon my melting brick wall?

warming by flickering flame
is piteous when one has not earned the thawing

12.10.00    time
i cannot explain time.
time must be the most random and relative thing i have ever experienced.
in my life, it is measured out in days, hours, cigarettes or love affairs.
i lose track of the good things, they rush by in a mardi gras flourish.
titties and grins and drunken laughter... disappearing like my
automobile probably will under this inevitable onslaught of illinois blizzard.
the bad things drag on forever.
no, of course not forever, but if you read the above lines,
you understand that relativity can be a bitch.
my personal relativity is most certainly a bitch;
and not only a bitch, but a bitch in heat, locked in a bedroom,
with hounds outside braying piteously because they can somehow
smell her through twelve inches of sheetrock, insulation and siding.
frustrating as hell.

i figure someday i'll be a writer. truly.
if i don't make it when i'm alive, i won't make it when i'm dead either.
but perhaps there will be enough banter flushed out of me to make someone
scratch their heads and wonder how the fuck i functioned at all.
heads, yes heads... we're talking mutation here. or zaphod beeblebrox.

01.31.01    curmudgeon
such a tart. i'm getting to old for this shit. the daily grind of trying to fight your way topside in the sea of reality is numbing after awhile. oh certainly, life runs along... with or without your consent, sometimes catching your ankle in the harness only to be dragged along a few kilometres. tired horses, let me tell you, can be a godsend.

onto issues... there's this consideration in life that is called "university." most people pick a school and move on out. how quaint. planning around a three year old and the ruins of the past exponentially increase the amount of planning and good ol' fashioned gnashing of teeth that go into such a decision. i'm rather hoping to get a good word back from loyola (and a fat finaid package to boot) in order to make the choosing simple.

it's a lot of work to be your own person, but the rewards (rabid monkey sex, not having to guilt oneself out of tobacco use, the freedom to choose whether to collapse drunkenly or to sit around reading edward abbey on a saturday night) cannot be underestimated.

02.22.01    neverlands
i suppose i could sleep now.
but Sleep does not call,
does not summon, nor beckon
i must search out Sleep
because the dreams have already
settled down in whispering silk
about the heart and mind
love-drunk entities both
crashing goblets together
with secret, upturned smiles
in praise of dionyssian rapture

02.28.01    post-its from the accord
occasionally i am a danger on the road
an old friend left a pad of post-it notes in my car once
they are an Evil Presence
as i now find myself slapping them on the steering wheel
just to get a single estranged thought onto paper without pulling over.

clouds raced
in a cornflower sky
cumulonimbus & shadowed in technicolour
- on the most perfect day
i would change my paranoia

(radio advertisement:) dishes so clean they not only sing, they sing opera. in italian.

does bob ever chastise you for the way you act;
for the incessant flirt that you are?
we have a commonality of character, you & i.
...those who want the faerie tale...
but are we capable of living it?
or does that require some kind of excess of moral will?
my ethics are not amerika's ethics.

03.14.01    bizarre and shifting
i don't get it.
what makes 25 so much different?
what makes life different?
richard... lego-master, nurturer of drunken fae, general kind soul
jenn... inspirational ninja-pixie and confidant
this acceptance to uiuc
the mere size and verbosity of my children
vernalisation of my brain.. un, deux

03.27.01    run awaaaay

agave: Re: WAQH                            27 Mar 2001 14:10

grog said:
> I forgot the dongle this morning!
> now i can't hook up my new firewire drive to my laptop.
> -jee
detachable PNAS!

-Ian hates dongles


04.02.01    beg, bitch & moan
everyone needs amusement, don't they?
smoking amuses me. i've quite smoking and it still amuses me.
realistically, i'm embarrassed to have quit smoking.
no.. correction... that isn't realistic or reasonable or logical regardless of viewpoint. but every goddamned time i'm faced with some goody-goody hug of happiness and pride and appreciation (my father thanked me for chrissakes) there rises within me a kind of demonic pride which just about whips me around and marches me out to the gas station with $3.94 clutched in my hand, ready to pass over in return for cancer, a.m. phlegm and a sense of haughty rightousness.
stick that in your pipe and smoke it.
or don't.
in fact, i'd prefer that you don't, lest i fall and steal that gleefully sinful whorling smoke from your own mouth in rebellious ecstacy.

-- racking tools --