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Archive for May, 2010|Monthly archive page

Paris

In by Michael on May 31, 2010 at 7:22 pm

As you take in the city, you can’t help but notice the food culture here.

Not only in the creperies and pastry shops, but also the falafel spots and Asian noodle restaurants, you see people who take pride in their food. They’ve got the cool confidence of a Manhattan bartender or Italian tailor or German automaker.

But you’re not sure whether this city of supreme romance has played a little trick on you. Because as you savor each morsel while you picnic in front of the Tower, you remember it’s just stuff you bought at the store 30 minutes ago.

Barcelona

In by Michael on May 31, 2010 at 5:40 pm

The architecture is funky, Gaudi-esque and Art Nouvea. All 4 corners of every block are chopped off, giving an open airy octagonal feel to each intersection. The public sculpture is vibrant, and none of it – the cat that looks like a hippo, the empty cube, the rectangular face in the sky – takes itself too seriously. Among all of this “high” art and architecture, there’s still room in the society to appreciate street art and graffiti – it lines the walls of even the nicest areas.

Barcelona is punk rock. As one local told me: “I love the Spanish. But I’m not.”

A Better Way

In by Chris on May 31, 2010 at 1:36 am

“I just won’t think about it,”
she said. “It’s better that way.”
With that she stepped out.
She stepped herself over the sunset
and over every shadowed ravine
that gave the mountains their relief.
She stepped over conversations
that branched like oak trees.
“Why should I have to face it?
I will bury it like the plague.”
Already murmuring
Are the plague-ridden bodies –
Still infectious and waiting
For the unwitting shovelful
To expose them.
“I’m just going to move on.”
She moves on and up and over
And out of this world
With her face put on
And eyes ahead.

A Thoughtless Mistake

In by Chris on May 31, 2010 at 1:36 am

I’m not sure I have what it takes to be a man.
I hate my spine and my thick skull,
The shadow of my obstinacy and forgetfulness.
How many times must I learn these lessons?
Men are to be held to an elevated code,
And though I was born with the code inside,
My baser emotions sometimes flop out first
Followed by my horrified thoughts.
Rationalizations are excuses.
I must say one excruciating thing:
I’m sorry,
Blame no one but me,
I shouldn’t need to learn this lesson,
I am no man.
Please give me the chance to try again.

Song For Non-lovers

In by Chris on May 29, 2010 at 10:55 am

It’s a beautiful thing to realize you’re not in love.
You, Miles Davis, blow those lines into my night,
Send my love across the thousand horizons of this earth.
I care, I do, but I love not you.
If I could wander I’d meet every fellow human here
And play them this record, and eat dinner after.
Monoliths dot the history of this land;
Underneath are the dives where futures are bandied
Like so many pit bulls on leashes.
Faithfully I’ll walk, though I don’t know where,
Unrestrained by love I thought was mine,
Ever alert and coveting the air.

(Title Below)

In by Chris on May 29, 2010 at 10:54 am

“We Love To Hear Ourselves Talk, Especially When Comparing One Important Thing To Another, Even If Said Important Thing Is Not Actually So Important, Or Even If Others Would Like A Chance To Talk While We’re Making All The Noise”



like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and like and

The Spear Fisher

In by Chris on May 28, 2010 at 11:05 pm

He was more comfortable squatted onto his haunches than standing. His eyes had that wide-open look of life spent in perpetual peering. His right elbow fit into a groove on his right knee, and he could hold his left hand poised with a spear aimed where he was looking for hours. The surface of the water did not obstruct his perception; rather it had become a sort of corrective lens so that when he walked back through town with a dripping bag slung over his shoulder, he glanced about furtively as though not quite sure of what he was seeing.

Heavy Eyelids, Heavy Hope

In by Chris on May 28, 2010 at 11:05 pm

My eyelids are rigged to my optimism control,
And when a long day finally ends,
If I don’t close them right off
And my body needs rest,
My spirits fall.
Under the blanket of stars,
If my eyes are open and struggling,
My hope for the way I might
Move through the night struggles also.
But if my eyes are shut
And my mind rests under a blanket of dreams
Optimism and hope and pessimism and fear
Are supplanted by shapes
Flapping through the depths and currents
Of a mind freed from time.
Those are exciting non-times,
Eyelids shut,
Dreaming.

Write Like Crazy

In by Chris on May 28, 2010 at 11:04 pm

OK. My mind can only work on one thing at a time. Let’s say that there are four possible activities to occupy my mind – reading, watching television, cooking dinner, and going for walks. I live in a very simple world. When I finish one activity, whether out of boredom, physical necessity, or another reason, I change to the next. If I were to replace those four activities with four separate writing projects, how many pieces of writing might I finish? If each had a different tone, the task shouldn’t ever get tedious. Remember, it’s a simple world I live in.

Brainstorm Of Things Fishermen Might Say

In by Chris on May 28, 2010 at 11:04 pm

Fish on!
Oh, they’re out there somewhere.
What’ve you got on there?
Why the hell haven’t I been using my lucky rod?
That’s a beauty.
I’ve caught those things using a matchstick before.
Well, we might be going a little fast right now.
Just let him run; we’re in no hurry here.
A bobber and bait? A bobber and bait! I’m a scientist!
Nothing to it, you could catch a hundred in an hour.
Nice lookin’ fish. Reminds me of one we caught up in Alaska. So we go out at sunrise and hit this cove, looks like nothing’s there…