Fire!

to have sung and danced under the stars sipping, flowing, through the fire, bongo, guitar, toasts to Shamayim,
in midtown Manhattan.

oh...deja vu of clear nights

chag sameach!

you infiltrated my music diary

You stole everything. My heart, my music, my music. Not just one or two artists; every single melody, intro and bridge, is you. So I turn off shuffle and change my album selection on I-tunes and I wait for solace to kick in. My music. And all I hear is you.

bang bang Choo-Choo

I'm not a girl who misses much; I just wanted to meditate and clear my mind, but they screamed that I needed a fix or I'd go down. I knew that they were lying with their eyes but it was as if they were pulsing with warm blood, down, down, with no life, no love, no pen, no gun, like a lizard on a window pane. No warm blood shall flow through me! -I fought. I gasped- Happiness- they screaaaamed louder and louder, they threatened and yelled and protested- is a warm gun... And they swore at me, begging me to succumb, until I couldn't take it anymore, so I ripped the warm gun out of their happy hands and I shot Mother Superior down (down to the bits that I left uptown). Bang, bang, shoot, shoot; doodododododoo.

last night's dreams

If we pay close attention
we will come to realize that
no day is the same as another.
Every morning brings
with it a hidden blessing.
(Unpublished)

"...b'chlal darf men zehn az der morgen zol zain ah sach shener vi der haint.."

hehe, mmm.. sleep tight

to night's a downer

be my witness..

'nacht

it was so weird how I killed Peggy.

cuz he was the middle of walking around the placemat. through rivers and grasses and white mountainous hills.
He was really red; the color practically consumed his whole body, or at least all of it that I was able to see. He won the Battle of the Rubberband, broke free and strode right up, over the wall. He was smart and determined. A fighter, he was.
It was so weird how I killed Peggy because I didn't mean to at all. I moved my glass cup and it was all over.
He stayed with us in the form of a tiny red dot on the white tablecloth.
You did good fighting mate. :( I'm sorry.

Untamed

Love is an untamed force.
When we try to control it, it destroys us.
When we try to imprison it, it enslaves us.
When we try to understand it, it leaves us lost and confused.

fetcha Notha sorta Docta

A powerful monarch called a holy father - everyone said he had healing powers - to help him with his back ache.

- God will help us - said the holy man. - But first let us understand the reason for these pains. I suggest Your Majesty confesses now, for confession makes men face up to their problems, and liberates much guilt.

Annoyed at having to think about so many problems, the king said:

- I do not wish to speak of these matters; I need someone who heals without asking questions.

The priest went off and returned half an hour later with another man.

- I believe that words can relieve pain, and help me to discover the right path to a cure - he said. - But you do not wish to talk, and I cannot help you. This is the man you need: my friend here is a veterinarian, and does not generally speak to his patients.

walk to the park

- Life is like that.
- hmm?
- awkward.

it's silly how in retrospect I cherish those awkward moments. maybe because for me they're so rare.
special times. :')

And-And life goes on, doesn't it

Gillian? Is that right? Is that right?

- Yes.
- It does? It does? Forever and ever?
                 
- No, not forever.
- No-No-No, never forever.
Not quite. Not quite.
                 
But I mean, the point is, life's
not all lamb loin chops, is it?  
                 
But I mean, it goes on, and-and you just
have to keep on going too, don't you?
                 
- I mean, you can't give up, can you?
- Certainly not.

by Jane Gallagher

It’s not me, the smiling bride on the wedding photograph; it’s simply a moment in time, not as it is, but as it was, for a split second. The first strike took him more by surprise than me, the hand with the ring (“a ring has no beginning and no end,” said the priest) that ripped with fearsome anger into my trusting flesh. That day was the beginning of the end: years passed as, battle scarred, I wore my wounds like clothes. But when I saw him with her I knew the end was in sight. In a split second I took him by surprise and watched with cold joy as the rivulets of tear-shaped blood dripped slowly into the red hall carpet, disappearing without a trace. Since they locked me up I have never felt freer; I look at the murderess’s photograph on the front page of today’s newspaper but it’s not me; it captures me not as I am but as I was, for a split second.

Blessed

so tis been a day.
twas a Josh Radin day...
twas a discoverin day, and not even all positive. mm.


I danced by the water tonight and someone else noticed the moon before me.
listen to Today. by Joshua Radin.
"Here comes the sun.. it's baiting morn today..."

ext roardinary.

All I want is to be extraordinary.

nothing.

Neither of us has anything to tell. I, because I conceal nothing, and you, because you communicate nothing.

dance in the Moonlight

but what does one do when his heart is so full of abounding joy
so full!
spilling over, flowing
in the moon kissed shadow of the winter trees

dance
just dance in the moonlight
with me

and my heart expands
and breath comes short as I lay in this night beneath the gold stars
which threaten to fall upon me all at once unless I
sleep
sleep

and I struggle as one of them bursts of fire making its crashing way down at me

and while it dares to rip
out this day
declare it as past
I squeeze my eyes shut in the blinding golden light and I swear that I will never end today

gutteh nacht.
to another quarter century of beautiful life, and another...and another

White space.

so here's something cool I did:
Took a random sheet of paper out of me bag whilst on the train this thursday.
The random sheet of paper was the last page of a whole bunch of notes that my psych professor had emailed me to help in studying for the exam she was giving.
The words were in a typewriter font; they formed a pretty shape on the page; a sweet square on this white eight-and-a-half by eleven.
I folded the empty white space on the bottom to equalize the margins.
These are the words I was looking at:

SECOND AND THIRD TRIMESTERS- HIGHER THAN normal death rate in the first weeks of life

-continued to climb until age 3 months

-lower rates of resistence- succumbed to local infections

-if they survived to one year, risk was over.

AGE 19- all boys called to draft. Measurements taken

Height showed usual SES factors- re family size and diet

-manual workers an inch shorter than sons of wealthier men

- chldrn from large families shorter

-later born shorter than first borns

EG kids with <>

But at age 19, postnatal nutrition was > important than prenatal nutrition in those up for the draft

Tests of mental function followed SES lines and not those related to prenatal nutrition

(but remember testing only survivors and those competent for draft)

Those who didn't make it to the draft -]

Fetus starved in the first trimester

-2X > likely to have spinal bifida -spine fails to close properly) and hydrocephalus

- lack of folic acid

Female Babies who were starved in the famine tended to have lighter BW babies themselves

(first trimester starvation) These starved babies were born normal BW yet had lighter babies

Those starved in 3^rd trimester were lighter BW yet had normal BW babies

The effect on first trimester carries over to next generation

Choice made by nature

-early starvation takes from the mother rather than the child

-as starvation continues, mother and child share the brunt of starvation

-prolonged starvation acts to sacrifice the child because if mother dies, so will child

I challenged myself kacha: Write a poem using whichever of these arbitrary words I choose, sticking to the order in which they appear on the page. The poem has to have a consistent mood and be somewhat meaningful.
T'was cool. Try it if ya want. Try it with these words so I can see. with my eyes. show me. tx. :')
Here's what I wrote.

Second, third- higher!
Death in the first weeks of life.
Continue to climb, lower resistance,
Succumb, survive.

Risk takers, manual workers
Short sons of men-
Test of manual function follow those,
Those, who didn't make it over.

Choice, starvation
Mother and child share the brunt of sacrifice,
Because,
if mother dies, so will child.

Origin(al) Ounce of Truth

Original sin was not the apple that Eve ate, it was her belief that Adam needed to share precisely the thing she had tasted.

He said something like:
"In all the languages in the world, there is the same proverb: 'What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't grieve over.' Well, I say that there isn't an ounce of truth in it. The further off they are, the closer to the heart are all those feelings that we try to repress and forget. If we're in exile, we want to store away every tiny memory of our roots. If we're far from the person we love, everyone we pass in the street reminds of of them."

familiar Impersonality

It isn't his house. It isn't her house. It isn't Brazil or Switzerland. It's a hotel, which could be anywhere in the world, furnished, like all hotel rooms, in a way that tries to create a familiar atmosphere, but which only makes it seem all the more impersonal.

I type out my posts even when I can find them online and copy and paste them into this compose box.

El-even times

Life is too short, or too long, for me to allow myself the luxury of living it so badly. (PC)

To everything, there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven...

A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate;
A time of war, and a time of peace. (Ecclesiastes)

All this is life; all of it.

in Your hand..

Pick one; start from there.
Any single idea properly worked through, methodically, will lead everywhere. ~S

Song:'till the end of time, L-rd of Abraham...I believe by Ron EliRon

and on...and on... and on...

..the wispy, airy, gray smoke
is not even comforting.

I don't understand a God who would let
us meet, if we could never be together.

your body Weeps

- Why do people cry?
- What do you mean?
                 
I mean, what happens physically?
                 
Tear ducts operate on a normal basis
to lubricate and protect the eye.
          
When you have an emotion,
they overact and create tears. 
                 
Why? Why do they overact?
                  
I don't know.

Maybe emotion becomes so intense...
                
...your body just can't contain it.
                
Your mind and your feelings
become too powerful.


                 
and Your body weeps.

:'(

because she Shares...

Discovering Nirvana. OR When a brain scientist suffers a stroke...

Piano dance.

One morning, Nasrudin - the great Sufi mystic who always pretended to be mad - wrapped an egg in a cloth, went into the town’s main square, and called the people who were there.

- Today there will be an important contest! - he said - Whoever discovers what is inside this cloth, will be given the egg inside it!

The people exchanged glances, intrigued, and answered:

- How can we know? No one is capable of divination!

Nasrudin insisted:

- That which is inside this cloth has a yellow center like a yolk, surrounded by a clear liquid like egg white, which in turn is contained inside a shell which breaks very easily. It is a symbol of fertility, and reminds us of birds flying to their nests. So, who can tell me what is hidden here?

All the folk thought Nasrudin was holding an egg, but the answer was so obvious, no one wanted to embarrass themselves in front of everyone else.

What if it wasn’t an egg, but something more important, a product of the fertile Sufi mystic’s imagination? A yellow center might suggest the sun, the surrounding liquid could be an alchemist’s concoction. No, the madman was definitely trying to make someone look a fool.

Nasrudin asked twice more, and no one dared say something foolish.

So he unwrapped the cloth and showed everyone the egg.

- You all knew the answer - he said - And no one dared put it into words.

“Such are the lives of those who haven’t the courage to risk: solutions are generously provided by God, but people always seek complicated explanations, and end up doing nothing.”

go play the piano. with your mouth, and your feet, and closed eyes
and an open heart.
go play and drum piano.. dance
with ur heart

from they I learned

(and learned, and learned,
and continue to learn and to love.)
to be afraid of death.
to stay being me.
to kiss.
to fall backward.
to be funny. and stupid. and real.
to be small.
to love.
to walk a lot.
to play x-box.
to not need to believe.

unfinished lines

It's an incredible thing to see what once was viewed as a void,
not as suddenly filled,
but simply as a beautiful canyon.

Peace upon thine heart.

A king offered a large prize to the artist who could best represent the idea of peace. A lot of painters sent their works to the palace, depicting woods at dusk, quiet rivers, children playing on the sand, rainbows in the sky, drops of dew on a rose petal.

The king examined everything that was sent to him, but ended up choosing only two works.

The first showed a tranquil lake that perfectly mirrored the imposing mountains surrounding it and the blue sky above. The sky was dotted with small white clouds and, if you looked closely, in the left-hand corner of the lake there stood a small house with one window open and smoke rising from the chimney - the sign that a frugal but tasty supper was being prepared.

The second painting was also of mountains, but these were bleak and stony with sharp, sheer peaks. Above the mountains, the sky was implacably dark, and from the heavy clouds fell lightning, hail and torrential rain.

The painting was totally out of harmony with the other submissions. However, a closer look revealed a bird’s nest lodged in a crack in one of those inhospitable rocks. In the midst of the violent roaring of the storm, a swallow was calmly sitting on its nest.

When he gathered his court together, the king chose the second picture as the one that best expressed the idea of peace. He explained:

‘Peace is not what we find in a place that is free of noise, problems and hard work; peace is what allows us to preserve the calm in our hearts, even in the most adverse situations. That is its true and only meaning.'