I need to drink water at the gym

Today was a diamond of a day. During the critical hours that promise a tomorrow on this side of time, it came to me in a sudden epiphany that I had the grand total of 2 unused meal credits to my name, and immediately I knew just what to do with them. Ye gad, it was off to The Gate with me. I gathered up my stuff from deep in the science library, escaped the clutches of the textbook, passed the jaws of impending finals and walked happily up (down?) my beloved Thayer street.
5 - 8 minutes later, and you would have found me at The Gate.
In The Gate I walked, bagel, cream cheese and water in mind - card in hand, ready to send those credits to late night snack heaven.
But alas, even diamonds need to be helped to shine. I am dismayed by this system. The poor defenceless (and by that, you know I mean quite the opposite) cashier cannot handle the burden (the immense energy required to raise the arm twice is just too, too much) of swiping a starving students' card twice in order to claim what is rightfully theirs. The now emaciated and famished student must practically leave The Gate with one purchase and return again, if second purchase is necessary.
Bagel, cream cheese or water? I made my decision, ladies and gentlemen, and the water was duly replaced. But damnit, I need to drink water at the gym.

It hurts my eyes

Brother. You knew me. You knew me and you said nothing. You sat there and you watched them come. You watched them come and take me away. They showed up that time when we were sitting by the fire, just the two of us, and they dragged me away and you said nothing. You didn't even look at me brother. You kept staring into the fire and my eyes were on you. They were on you all the way, brother - all the way into this...

And the fire! It hurts my eyes, so I look away. I keep my eyes fixed to the ground and I remember how you looked into the fire. I remember how you let them take me away and you said nothing.

So I ask myself. And then I ask again, but the fire brother, it hurts my eyes.

It hurts my eyes.

The immigrant voice

Back home to here na long long way.
The picture of here from home is so different from the wilderness I de see night and day.
This na America with homeless for every corner
that I think I de a numberless world?
Where all the fine fine things in that picture:everybody dress kamkpe that I think
na angels, Hollywood Heaven they misspell?
Now I work standing so te for minimum wage, get dollars for one hand and give them out for the other.
I come back from work so dead I can't eat or sleep and before dawn I don get up to begin another slave day.
When I reply their letters from home saying here no be what they think they see for their minds, they no gree with me and call me lie-lie man: "You de already there and you no want us to come."
I know my people hate me for telling the truth.
Wetin they see geographers de call am mirage--America na big photo-trick to me.
If say big thief no boku for home and they no give man chance to live softly, America no be place to live for one whole day.
The streets de explode kpa-a kpa-a like Biafra,
dead body no de fear anybody; you no know whether the person saying "Hi!"want to shoot, rob, or rape you.
Neighbour no de, friend no de except them dog; you de for your own like craze-man de pursue dollar which no de stay for your hand--they say na capitalism, when dollar de circulate, circulate without rest.
When somebody don naked for you for daylight, nothing de the big boast of beauty for the cloth e take cover crawcraw and eczema.
No be as e be for the picture they don retouch--beggar, thief, poor poor, all dem de boku.
Sometimes I cry my eyes red for night in bed.
Wetin my eye don see for here pass pepper make me de prepare to go sweet home.
If God de, make e punish them wen drive me from Africa come hell.

November 8th, 2004

So it happened.

Now what?

Grim Reaper

We are living to die

Bitter-bitter

In the desert I saw a man
naked, bestial
who
squatting upon the ground
held his heart in his hands
and ate of it
I asked
"Is it good friend?"
He said
"It is bitter-bitter."
"But I like it."
"Because it is bitter. And because it is my heart"

Ode to a roomate on her birthday

For roomates who will put up with you. For friendship, for the days that I set the wrong time on the alarm clock. For trips to the gate, friday night movies at the providence place mall. For smiles. For laughter.
Hot chocolate at dunkin donuts in the middle of a snowy night. Trips to Mass, staying over with only the thread on my back, double cheeseburgers at Micky Dees - no meat and no pickles please. Plays every month. Hints of a payed-for-by-the-grownups dinner afterwards. Cheesecake with oreos in it. Yum.
For mid-term time. For the kind of patience you don't find everywhere. For being mad but understanding. Frustrations of work, disappointments after exams.
For every routine. V-dub for dinner. Sometimes lunch. Before sleep time tv watching. For sharing. For caring.
For being you.

It was a very bad day

One day I woke up slightly late. Nothing was where I had put it the night before. I ran through a shower and got ready for class. Then I couldn't find my keys. I searched all over the room. They had magically disappeared from where they were the night before. I was sad. I needed my keys. At last I found them. They were under some books.
I reached the door to the outside and it was raining. So I had to go back to my room and get my coat. This was good because once I was there I realised I had forgotten my card. So I put my card in my pocket. Then I left my room. I went to get some coffee because people drink that when they're in class. They say it keeps them I awake. I think it keeps me awake too. I bought my coffee and things were getting better. Then I dropped my coffee mug. All the coffee spilled out onto the sidewalk. I was sad. I needed my coffee.
I got to class just in time. My seat in the very front row was empty! I rushed forward to sit. Then someone cut before me. They sat in my seat. I was sad. I needed my seat.
It was a very bad day.

Past

Give me back what I had before
I want it
I need it
let me feel what I felt before
I crave it
I yearn for it
please
come back to me

Evolution and T.As

The elusive Teaching Assistant (Tutor, etc) is a cunning creature. The common practice of searching high and low is a labor that yields no fruit, as he craftily remains undiscovered, despite several attempts.
Emails, voice mail and other such handy means of communication so useful when tracking down other ordinary species do not produce results either. The elusive T.A (tutor, etc) remains in hiding. It is also a proven fact that at the times when the T.A (tutor, etc) is needed the most; at the crucial intersection resulting from an unanswered question holding a path that surely will lead to unknown turtuous and horrific death a.k.a an appearance of that question on the next days exam - the elusive T.A (tutor, etc) is nowhere to be seen.
Frantic searches, panicked glances are darted hither thither, but in vain. The elusive T.A (tutor, etc) has once again proven his insidous tact.
Years of T.A (tutor, etc) evolution have culminated to produce a species that is perfection itself. The elusive T.A (tutor, etc) is a connoisseur of concealment, a master of masquerade, a dilettante of disguise. If the evolution that produced the T.A (tutor etc) has any short-coming it is the review session. However, even in this, evolution has formed a counter attack.
T.A conspirators abound.
These are the creatures that come to review sessions with the intention of carelessly using up valuable time. They crowd the coveted front row and ask only the most obvious of questions. It is clear from the T.As' (tutors', etc) exhaustive response of what could have been a two word answer that they are in it together.
However, the time is coming when there shall be a revolution. The many manipulated and vulnerable students seeking an A on the exam are vulnerable no more. Together, they are forming ranks and will strive to seek a better and more suitable environment for the ubiquitous last-minute-question-before-the-exam.
Students of Brown unite!

Haiku

bugger it, can't sleep
hours in the quiet night
same old music on
studying chem tomorrow

staring at the wall
nyquil work your sweet effects
tossing and turning
what is the meaning of life?

dawn soon approaches
circadian rhythm lost
nocturnal am I
anguishing the night away

General progressions that lead you nowhere

Milk. Silk. Smooth. Smoothie. Fruit. Plum. Dumb. Blonde. Joke.
Laugh. Hippocampus. Neuroscience. Major. Classes.
University. Usa. Country.

Night time. Lights off. Boarding school. Month holidays. Mango season. Santa Claus? New Year. New Shoes. New books. More plans.

Music. Coldplay. Studying in the Sci Li. Again classes. Learning.

Ever learning

Crawling in my skin

Fade in

Thoughts of things that were; things that used to be; things that could have been. A thousand dry tears. Each one of them silent. Questions with answers that come painfully, slowly - they float with heavy wings, but make no sound.
A sigh, an outward glimpse, but an overall resilience that is somewhat in vain, somewhat untrue. Laughter, smiles. Ice-cream after a long day. Conversations that are two thirds aware, carefree; one third automatic. Life continues and the pieces that make it up fall into place, time moves steadily onward. The present moves on into the future without a backward glance. The past skulks into the realm of the forgotten...
Sun rise, sun set. Fall is here. Seconds, minutes and hours stretching off into eternity. The lingering remains of a dull ache that persists with an uncanny resistance. Frequencies of sound, of light, of pain, of sadness. Long, low and lasting.
Tomorrow will keep on coming. New days will be born, old days will die.

Fade out

Untitled

I never thought that love could fade
that we could ever part
I trusted all your promises
and gave you all my heart

But now I see the coldness there
that lurks beneath your smile
I know that you will leave me
in just a little while

Your touch is soft but meaningless
your kisses tell me lies
there isn't any need for words
the truth is in your eyes

Oh! I shan't plead with you to stay
or let you see me cry
once the flame of love burns low
it's best to let it die

When it's time for our last kiss
my broken heart I'll hide
I will smile and you'll never know
the hurt that's deep inside

Modus Operandi

Time to build me some armor again. The last batch I hitched up had a few weak points. But I have been to the blacksmith and I tell you friends and neighbors, I have the formulae. I'm using hot forge and only the strongest of tools. Ladies and gentlemen, friends and neighbors, I'm building me some high stress, durable, no wear, no tear body armor.
Aint nobody gonna tear it down. Aint no flaming arrows gonna penetrate this armor.
My rules, my life - from now on baby. It's a win win situation. My world is my world. I create the guidelines, the bounderies, and it is my modus operandi. You don't like it? See if I care.
It's back to that town that I love so well. Back to the streets of sarcasm, the corridors of cynicism.
Back to being me.

Silent watchers

I have pressed that button, and the light somewhere in its plastic cavity is glowing. A similar light glowing under another plastic button assures me that the elevator is coming to me. I am assured this because it has an arrow on it pointing to where my feet are on the floor. I am trusting that the people who designed this elevator (or the button) and I are using the same co-ordinate system.
It is here. It opens and there are people in it. I hesitate, wondering if my face and involuntary step forward have betrayed my intentions. Should I stay put and feign a sudden interest in the poster affixed to the wall next to me? Should I make like I forgot something in my room and rush off? Will I be able to squeeze myself into the last remaining spot in that crammed-full-as-if-we-were-sardines elevator? The door is closing, I have to act. One clumsy hand extends, stops the door mid closure. I am in.
Silence. You man next to me with the earphones, what are you thinking? You obvious freshman behind me, wipe that smirk off your face. I am a good person, really I am. I want to be a doctor someday....please tell me the seat of my pants isn't wet. Tell me that strong body odour is not coming from me, tell me something, anything, please.
The doors are open. Sweet, sweet release...

Har de har har har

I have the lack of sleep bug. I am able to sleep only when it is inconvenient for me - say during class, or in a meeting. When it is convenient - like now, sleep eludes me. It stands outside of my window just out of reach and mocks me. It says to me, I will be back when you least need me, like during chemistry tomorrow. I will come visit when you are working...
So what do I do? I read Terry Pratchett, that's what. Right now, I'm reading soul music. Well, not right now at this exact moment, obviously, I'm typing. But you know what I mean. It's a good book, Death decides he needs to think and goes on vacation.
Outside and far away, the world is turning and me being one of the cogs (har de har har har) that keep it working, I realise that everything, after all, is not lost.
So, friends, when it's time to sleep, think about deadrocketcow out in the land of wide awake, and get up an hour early. Maybe sleep will come in through the window and lend me that hour.

2nd year at Malory towers uhh, Brown University

So. It's back to this joint. Back to luvin that V-dubin food, walking the streets of Thayer with a gleam in my eye and a bounce in my stride... No really, I'm going to neuroscience, and what could be better than that?
So, you ask, what classes am I taking? Well, I'll tell you ladies and gentlemen in big and well, white letters, codes and everything included.
BN0103 - Neural Systems
SI0010 - American Sign Language
CG0009 - Quantitative Methods in Psychology
CH0033 - Inorganic Chemistry
Notice the order, ladies and gentlemen, and take note. Chemistry is my favorite class. From the other direction.
What more can I say? Let the games begin? Show time? Whatever the case. I'm glad to be back.

Ode to Stephen King

Stephen King can write. Ladies and gentlemen, friends and neighbours. That dude has skills. I'm talking about major skills here - not just your ordinary I feel like writing today so I will skills, I mean skills that could get somebody shot.
That dude floats my boat, he rocks my world. And by that, friends and neighbours, you know I mean he keeps my eyes glued to those pages till that back cover is reached (soft, cause it's cheaper that way). Give me an S.K book anyday and I will love you for life.
And that's the truth.

Ps - Everything's eventual.

Grandmama

The sunlight shining through the tree by the window makes beautiful patterns on the wall. There is only silence in there. Silence and stillness. Every now and then a stir of air makes it past the window, ruffling the curtains as it comes on into the room where it eventually stills down. If you listen very carefully, you can hear it as it makes its way past the old dresser, over and around the bed, and then under the crack of the door. I know this because I can feel the air as it rushes past my knees on this side of the door where I am crouched, peering through the keyhole. Missy forgot to put the key in, and at last I can see what goes on behind the door.
Grandmama is ancient, she must be all of 200 years old, and with skin to match. I bet dinosaurs roamed the earth when she was in high school. I bet she walked with Noah, she's the one who musta tol him that all the animals deserved an equal chance after the flood, spiders included. Grandmama doesn't talk much but she sure does chew that tobacco. You can see it in her eyes that she took no nonsense, back in the day.
I can't see much into the room. Missy's behind is blocking the view. There is a metal tub in the center of the room, and on one side of Missy I can see Grandmama's head. A whispy white hair-fall flowing down the side of that tub. Grandmama sure has hair. Her eyes are closed, and her mouth is partly open. A string of saliva hangs down, and if I turn just so, the sunlight turns it into a thousand polished and cut diamonds just like the one Missy has on her finger from Jake next door. I hear she had to soap her finger just to put it on. Grandmama told me this with her eyes, and in the way she chewed on her tobacco.
Grandmama's eyes are open and I swear she is looking through the keyhole and straight into my soul. For an eternity I stare into those timeless eyes, those eyes that saw the sun when he was but a boy in diapers. I feel I have trespassed into some private ritual, some ceremony which my eyes were not meant to see.
I blink and she is as she was before, head rested on the side of that tub, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. A thousand polished and cut diamonds gleaming from her chin.

What gives?

So I have neglected my blog these past few days. I have gone off into the far off regions (off campus) of the world and I have lost the little that remained of my senses. Aka, my priorities are all wrong. Priorities such as posting. On my blog. Mercy me, is that the time? I like to eat ice-cream...but then, who doesn't? Soon I will be queen. Soon, the blue tailed niblet will roam free, and the song of life will be sung again. I wrote the lyrics, just in case you were wondering, and they are all in haiku form.
Yeah, so I'm typing, so I'm looking at the screen. What gives? Mercy me, is that the time? I like to eat oreos...but then, who doesn't? Soon I will be asleep. Soon, I will dream dreams, and my mind will sing its sleep song. There are no lyrics, just in case you were wondering, just mindless muttering.
Yeah, so I'm leaving, so I'm going away. What gives?

Loans and Elevators

Today was a day like any other. Nothing too disturbing, nothing too fantastic, nothing too vigorous. That is, apart from signing my soul over to the devil.
And by that I mean I signed my college loans for my sophomore year.
Walking to that Financial Aid office was the longest walk in my life. Each step brought me closer to the impending doom of a brobdingnagian loan that will hang over my head for (cross your fingers, please) the 10 years that I am given in which to pay the consequences. The consequences of coming to Brown.
I entered the mocking door into that building. Up elevator one floor, then two. (What are stairs?) Crossed the threshold of destiny, and spoke those words that I will remember for the rest of my life...

"I'm here to sign my Stafford Loans."

A stack of papers, towering over my head. Quivering pen in hand, dry mouth, moist eyes, trembling. Read, add references, sign. Read, add references, sign. With aching hand, and beating heart, I was done. I passed them over, and I tell you I could hear the air conditioning hissing...sold, sold, sold. A smiling response:

"You're all set"

All set indeed.

The sound of no dogs barking.

Silence. Pure and golden. Can you picture a sound free environment? Does it put in you a secret desire to eliminate all objects that cause a change in the resting pressure of the atmosphere? It should. It really, really should. If it doesn't, then there is something seriously wrong, and I'm telling you, my friend, you need to have your head examined. Totally, like, right now. Put down that jelly bean, and make that call. (It could earn you 15 more seconds to live, at the very least).
And what's all the cacophony about, my dears? I need quiet. I need quiet, and I need all the cosmic forces of the universe to be in balance once again. You think I am able to eat juicy fruit in this noise? You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Silence, I say.
But then again. Explore with me the delicious treat that is apple sauce. The sweetness, the slightly granular texture, the lovely apple scent...

I am dreaming again.

Someone's in the shower.

One of those days. No class in the morning, work at a leisurely 11 O'Clock, alarm set to ring with a whole half hour to get ready. Alarm went off. Lay in bed for a moment, ensconced in its warmth, gloried in the pleasure that only a class free day can bring. Nonchalantly, stepped out of bed (what's with all the adjectives you say? Shut your pie hole, I respond). Demurely, got ready to take a shower. Resiliently, walked to the door. Opened it. Walked through and across the hall. Put my hand on the doorknob...

locked.

Went back to my room. Paced. Paced. Tried the doorknob. Still locked. Looked at watch. 15 minutes. Paced some more. Made bed. Paced. 10 minutes. Logged onto blog. Wrote three lines. Paced. Then the sound, finally, of silence, where there was sound. Shower off. Door opened. Sound of slippers on floor. Door open, and then close. Rushed in.

Was 7 minutes late for work.

Soon, my love.

I am standing on a hill. The sky above me stretches off for miles, it is beautiful and so blue it hurts my eyes just to look at it. There are clouds, too, in this blue sky. Those soft, billowing, cotton candy clouds that were meant to be gazed at, back on ground-arms outstretched-face to the heavens, for hours. Tearing my eyes away from it is difficult, but when I look below, there is a continuous sea of white sand that eventually turns itself into the turbululant waters of the ocean.

The ocean! How vast and powerful it is. Compared to it, I am a puny man, insignificant beyond reason. For a moment, I am not so sure. A sudden panic grips my heart, and I succumb to the doubts that linger within. But then, with horrible accuracy, I recall my life; the past day's events, and I am choked up with emotion. Nothing has meaning for me anymore. I am alone, in this world. I am utterly and completely alone. My life is a dream in slow motion. A dream that I can not stop, a dream that I am a hopeless spectator of.

She is gone. No longer will I wake up in the morning and watch her chest rise and fall in the steady, tender breath of her sleep. No longer will I look at the soft curve of her neck as she slowly brushes her hair. I will not see those eyes, those beautiful eyes that always gazed into mine so knowingly. I will not see her smile, that smile that lit up her face and made me weak in the knees...

She is gone. My love, my sweet love. My friend, my confidante. My partner, my all. My purpose, my sole purpose that gave me the drive to get up and face a new day. The reason I was a better, more genuine man.

With my head downcast, I begin to walk. The sun is shining down on me in warm radiance, underfoot, the grass is crisp and damp under my bare feet. I can hear the crash of the ocean as it rushes into the rocks and breaks onto the shore. I experience each and every moment with a clarity that is astounding. Somewhere, there are birds crying in the sky, but still I walk. With slow, trembling steps I am at the edge. A single tear escapes and falls down, down, down.

Soon, my love - we will be together again.

Awe Kwena...

I have an exam coming up. I have a lab report to get done. I have homework hanging over my head. But what am I doing? Sitting at my computer, talking to people on this messenger thing that has me by the throat. Oh yeah, and in that dratted chat room.

It is dark outside. It is also dark in my room. I feel dark too. In a good way, of course. You may ask...in what way can dark be good? You know...I don't really know. It just had a nice ring to it. But now that I think about it...in the dark, things are unexposed, they can be anything you want them to be. You can also be free to do whatever your heart desires...

I like to drink water. When I'm thirsty. Sometimes I like to drink Sprite. Speaking of which, when was the last time you had yourself an icingly refreshing Sprite? Come on...you know you want one. Obey it...come on, you want to...

Anyway, I am seriously rambling here (so, what else is new right?) And that probably means a severe lack of sleep. Or a certain kind of night provoked dementia...

Whatever the case. Goodnight Moon.

Ctrl-Alt-Delete

I woke up this morning at 5:45 with a renewed desire to battle any odds I might encounter in the not-so-uninteresting, and sometimes gory carnage that is my life. With this healthy serving of optimism on my plate, I sat at my computer and determined that I would make the remainder of my research yesterday's headlines. So I began. I was seriously getting my research on when disaster struck. You know that sick feeling you get when you have a million and one (all important, I assure you) windows open, and suddenly nothing on the screen is moving anymore?
Yeah. It was kinda like that. Only, a thousand fold worse. I ranted, I raved; I pleaded, I begged; I touched wood just for the heck of it. Nothing doing. With a heavy and anguished heart, I contemplated the misfortune that had befallen me. Life lost its meaning...colors faded...the whole world came to a standstill.

Then I hit ctrl-alt-delete.

Now ain't that sweet?

Check out the first poem I ever wrote:

The summer morning's crisp and clear
the grass is filled with dew
the little birds dance and cheer
the sun is bright and new
sleepy eyes awaken
till morning's gone, forsaken
and things are very different
and things are very different

Consider freedom

Consider a massless point like object moving at the speed of light in a vacuum. Consider yourself, weightless in a vast pool of nothingness. Consider possibilty. Consider Freedom.

I want to dream. Society somehow tends to look down on a dreamer. But is it dreamers who have the power to look beyond the ordinary and create. Need I name names? It is possible that in your dream you could bring about world peace. It is possible that in your dream you could have total word domination. Different desires, both dreams. Those dreams might never come into existence. They may remain electric potentials that fire deep in the 9 serotonergic raphe nuclei that line the base of your upper brain stem. Yet, in those moments, we are able to live lives that fufil some ultimate potential.

Maybe one day our dreams will rub off on to the world.

I am ready

I have awakened a restless beast. For a while now it was chained and locked up in some forgotten garden, behind some forgotten wall, in memories dim past. I walked past the wall, and a stirring of all that could be and all that should be came from behind those walls. The stiring was urgent, I could not ignore it, and even though I kept walking, something inside me was stirring in equal and fierce response. So I came back. I came back to this wall, and I saw a small crack where the light came through. I peered into this crack, and I knew that what lay beyond that wall was something that even I could not refute. Before I knew it, the wall was torn down, and the beast was free. This beast is a powerful one, it has me tight in it's grasp, and I fear I am slowly losing my sanity...

I want this beast to ravage me. I want to lose control. I want to lose my sanity. I am ready.

Electric Chalkboard

This electric chalkboard is equipped with an automatic torque limiter.

If the panel begins to lift excess weight or otherwise binds, the device will disable the entire assembly.

Manuel reset is required.

Please call Facilities Managament at ext 7800 for assistance.

Thankyou.

 

Vampires

They lurk in the shadows of the night. They are the nosferatu; the undead. They are bold, daring, dangerous killers that are hopelessly bound to a promise in blood. Destined to spend eternity with an all consuming thirst, the world is their playground, and they fear nothing.

Life's like that

Sometimes it is the simple pleasures in life that make it worth living. That lovely feeling of satisfaction when you look up at the clock from a hard day at work, and you see there are ten more minutes. The thrill you get when you're looking through your pockets before you dump clothes into the washer, and you discover a $10 note in your pocket (okay, I'm cheap, $10 is a goldmine for me) It's waking up before your alarm clock shrieks, and discovering you have a whole hour left to sleep in the morning. It's a smile from a stranger in the street. It's dropping something, and having someone pick it up for you. It's all those simple pleasures that make life worth living. If only we would look up from our hectic schedules, our packed calendars - all the many prisons we enclose ourselves in and smell those proverbial roses.

Ode to juicy fruit

I like juicy fruit gum. It tastes so chewy and delich in my mouth. I like to buy whole packs of it at a time, and chew on each stick while I thoughtfully roll the sweet juices around on my tongue. Life is so much better with a wad of juicy fruit gum in your mouth. You can tell yourself that Organic Chemistry is no biggie, that the road to the future glories of medical school isn't so narrow and steep after all, and that you don't have to work on Monday. All this ends however, when the last lingering remains of the sweetness fade away in your mouth, leaving in their wake a desire to scratch your eyes out... Well, not really. It just makes you want to open up a fresh stick. So then it's off with the old and on with the new. A new stick is peeled, a fresh gum inserted, and life starts over.

Hey, I just realised all my times were wrong.

I was there

I was there when the light came on. Laying in my bed, staring out the window. I was there. Gazing at nothing in particular, and letting my mind wander to wherever it pleased. I saw it happen, I was there. Suddenly something changed. It wasn't so dark anymore. Right there, beyond the edge of my vision, a circle of light was growing. I looked at it. It was the light from a streetlamp. Faint, white light gleamed out. It took on a yellowish hue, and got brighter, stronger. I did not blink, I wanted to see each second of this steadfast transformation. In moments it was done. A Streetlamp was born.

Imagine

Bored. Bored. Bored. Bored outta my mind. Bored sick. Bored senseless. All sortsa bored. What should I do? Should I read? Should I listen to music? Should I be a good student, and get my research on? Should I sit in front of this screen, this screen and think big thoughts? Let's imagine then. Let's sit high on a hill away from the civillisation that is mankind and imagine. Come only with yourself, no cell phones (though the signal would be fantastic up here), no pagers, no pda's....nothing. Let us open our inner eye and our minds to the many worlds that lie within us. The many worlds that can only be reached when we imagine. There you are 10 years old again. There you are 60. Over there you are just born. Imagine.

Tommyknockers

Today was 24 minutes ago. And by that I mean I am 23 minutes into the next day. And by the next day I mean today. As it were. Yes....the night does strange things to my mind. I like to think that I am affected by the moon in some non-werewolfic way. Come to think of it, I also like to think. (See what I mean? ) In your thoughts anything is possible. You can be male, female or even both. Tall, short or even both. Think about it like this: you are walking down a lonely street and you hear a rustling sound behind you. Don't be alarmed, it's only me and my camera crew. That, therefore, in essence, is what is.  Do you know what this 'it' is? Neither do I - you won't be tested on it. Well, that's what the little green men in my head keep saying. They've been getting rather loud lately... But that's another story. A story for a rainy day.

Pop tarts and angular momentum

I had physics lab today. Conservation of angular momentum. As if we all don't know the world is flat as a pancake. As I sat in that lab, and I listened to the voice of the teaching assistant, I thought to myself...life is like a giant pop tart. If you pop it into the microwave, it gets hot, and it tastes good. But it still can be eaten cold.  So there. What do you think about me now, sucker? I'm going to bed. Yes - in the middle of the afternoon.

A walk in the rain

I shuffle to the door, drawing my coat close around my shoulders, my hands deep in my pockets. I know its raining outside, but I want to get out, away… In a moment, I am outside and the rain is lashing against my face – it does not matter, my cheeks are wet anyway. It is dark. Dark and cold. Above, the sky looks fantastic; it is being ripped apart by the sheer force of the wind. Walking is difficult and I feel like I’m being forced backward. The wind is talking to me saying,“Guilty, guilty, guilty” Even the trees are bending over backward telling me the same, but I walk on heedless.

I am alone in a lonely world. I feel fragile, vulnerable under the power of the storm, but there is no turning back. My feet are taking me somewhere, one foot after the other; step by step. I close my eyes and walk blindly, oblivious to the world, feeling the rain plaster my hair to my head. It seems there is no time, only space.

 My coat is useless now, I am soaked through but still I walk on up the drive and past that gate. Free! My mind whispers to itself and I suppress a mad desire to giggle, to throw my arms up in the air and answer the rumble of the thunder. My good pair of shoes is muddy, and my skirt is clinging to my legs but I do not care. The confused nights are over. I will never wake up in the middle of the night frightened, lonely, and afraid. The rain has washed away my tears and the lump in my throat is dissipating, but there is the ache. Deep and throbbing, I know it will never go away. For as long as I live it will hurt.

The storm is furious, it is a reminder of the years of torment I have suffered in that house. Those enclosing walls have kept me caged for the greater part of my life. Life has left a bitter taste in my mouth and made me used to pain. I have shivered in my bed night after night; my cheeks salty and wet; bruised and hurting. You see, my father loves me dearly and he says the true expression of love is through touch. I tell him it hurts so bad, but he says that’s okay. He says he loves me very much and it has to be our little secret. He’s told me not to tell. I do not want to be loved this way, I cannot stand it.

I am far away from home now, and that is good. I know I am sick, I am dying. It’s funny when you think about it. The world is a canvas and I have no brush. I have lived an empty life, I am wasting away and I cannot help it. But that’s okay too. After all, there is no one but me in this world and soon I will be no more. I left my father’s body in his favorite chair. I know by now he is as cold as I feel. Perhaps he will stay there for days, weeks, maybe months. Finally I will not see those eyes that have scorned me, abused me, hurt me…I am safe. I cannot explain the weight that has been lifted from my heart. The feeling of exultation is intense, dizzying almost.

I know what I have done is wrong. It is unacceptable in society’s eyes and in those of the law. Let the gods judge me and declare my fate, but it was my only escape. I do not ask for pity, or sympathy. I did what I knew I had to when I did and now I am here. I felt guilty whilst he choked and gasped for air. I know he was asking for help, but inside I was frozen. Within minutes he was still.Yes. I am guilty. I deserve to be locked up for life. Yet inside I know I am finally free.

Valentines day is everyday.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
and so are you.

Four lines. Let us take a moment to explore these four lines. These four lines are an expression from the beating heart that pumps hopelessly romantic love around the circulatory system of the soul. Roses are red....it's a matter of fact. You don't deny a force of nature. Roses are red. Simple, yet profound. Violets are blue....more of the same. Just with that little extra pzazz. Sugar is sweet....how could it be anything else? One thinks sugar, one thinks sweet. No two ways about it. So, here's the good part (you can wake up now) you are all that. And more. Your beauty is simple. Yet profound. My love, too, is like that for you. Undeniable. Unquestionable. Just as roses are red. Just as violets are blue. Just as sugar is sweet. So is my love for you. It's a fact.

Philosophically speaking...

Yeah. I'm up at 12:41. I have an exam tomorrow that I need to get up at the crack of dawn to finish studying for. By crack of dawn, I mean 4:30am...yeah, totally wasn't kidding. The exam is at 8:00am. So, why am I here? Why am I posting on this blog, this blog of mine? The real question is, why is a toasting fork? I think I got that from ummmm, can't remember at this point. Someday I'll get all philosophical on you. Someday I'll save the world. Right now, the land of nod and beddy byes will have to suffice.

Obey your thirst.

Today I battled demons. I climbed towering mountains, and I lept over raging rivers. Nothing was impossible - I worked out complex physics calculations using one half of my brain, and figured out the meaning of life with the other. I learnt everybody's name at work, and used them. I thought thoughts, dreamt dreams, and felt feelings I had never experienced before. My mind was cataclysmic...potent; I saw colours and shapes for what they really were - vivid, bright, alive. Life has boundless possibilities, can have limitless capacities, and is yours for the making. 
 
Ps - Obey your thirst. Drink Sprite.

Sexual Healing!

It's the rage of the hormones...the rush of hot blood through constricted blood vessels...the drumming in your ears...the weakening in the knees. To faint or not to faint? Always look up when the possibilities are endless. Never walk around with a pen in your pocket...the ink might bleed through. If you want to write a note, use purple post it notes. You can't go wrong with them. After all, life is a highway, and you can ride it....all....night long.

Sexual Healing?

Maybe it's about time I made something of myself and contributed some relevance to this greedy and ravenous beast that is our society. There are billions of people in the world...all busy doing their thang. If I do something, do you think it will make a difference? Suddenly, discovering that I have a purpose in this big bad world seems like it might be something. But then again, it might not. Anywho.....someone once said,
 
"Baby....I'm hot just like an oven....I need your lovin. Baby....I can't hold it much longer....it's getting stronger and stronger"
 
What gives, right?
 
 

Goodnight Moon

Oh, one more thing. Goodnight Moon.

Music sounds better in the dark

So...it's 11:49 at night, and I'm at my computer. I'm listening to a host of dark and depressing music, so it's all good. Everything is well in the world - the planets are aligned properly....that anorexic line between love and hate has not been crossed over (well, at least not yet) and my teeth are brushed. What could be better than this? Oh yes, I forgot...eofjp axoirno;nd erij zpgljwo. So necessary...

To die or not to die?

So I'm me, right? I mean....I'm not Melissa, or Rachael, or even Getrude....I'm me, the living and in the flesh deadrocketcow. I woke up this morning, not because I wanted to face another day, but because, well because....I needed to go to the bathroom. So there. My secret is out. Does this make me less of a person? Does this mean that I will die in a horrible car accident tomorrow afternoon? I really don't know...sometimes it's hard to tell with things like that. Nevertheless, I will continue to pour salt around the outside of my room, and everyone knows you can never have too many horse shoes lying around your bathroom...

Testing, testing...

Grass. Pens with blue ink. Telephone cables. Elephants dancing silently. Look at her - she acts like she dumb. Yeah....it's the rise of Venus.