Metropolis (saxophone)

Free prose...

A skyscraper,
The lights of a city,
A city 40 million strong,
and the flashing lights pulsing a very human beat.

A spirit,
Floating - it screams,
300,000 miles per second,
Another humdrum downtown sound resounds.

Scaling up the building,
A fire in the gut,
Ascension,
To the top of a melancholy phallic device.

A saxophone...

Plays in the middle of a square,
The man knows his art,
He plays to the tune of a whole generation.

A taxi flies by,
It's actually flying,
You know the story,
And inside a man goes from A to B.

Group of people in the street,
Talking, laughing, drunk...
Car comes by: honk, honk, honk.
Group gets mad, knock knock: fight.

Boys walk down,
Studious from the bibliotheque,
Hooker with a baby and a cigarette,
Scared as they are, they walk.

There's a saxophone...

Down the block,
A man with shades,
Cheeks swollen from the air; blowing a dream.

And ten miles away,
Deep in some kind of suburb,
The lights still shone,
A girl stares out her bedroom window, pondering.

Down a dark alley,
Deadbeat hobo scarfing down scraps,
Full bottle of liquor,
Boy, the stories he could tell.

Church bells ring,
11 rings, twilight shone from a full moon,
And as the last ding blares out,
A thousand doves fly into inky blankness for no apparent reason.

A saxophone again...

Sweet melody, Jesus...
This man knows your life, your emotions,
He understands, creates the butterflies coalescing in your heart.

Too many men,
Evil, satanic glares; but in pressed Italian suits,
All white, all WASP, all enormous groomed beasts,
All smoking cigarettes, poison from their mouthes, in front of the Marriott.

Colors,
Orange, purple, green-haired women.
The elementals of a universe,
Those bearing children of all natures, naturally.

Golden arches,
Green caffeinated letters,
American flags giving money,
You find it all offered in this place.

You can still find the hungry children,
the polluted lakes,
the ice,
no longer is it seen from this grave ocean,
an abyss of humanity,
lights flicker in my mind,
dead bugs flying,
but those dead bugs are us,
getting too close to that light,
forgetting the light is something we don't know,
so it zaps us,
we falls to the ground as everything turns on us,
still in confusion we ask why? Why? WHY?
but there's no answer,
in this grave, beautiful structure,
where is the love?
is it everywhere?
the lights flickering ever more,
screaming out in my mind,
the glass breaks into thousand upon millions of shards
shock waves dissipate across miles
from this heart
the foods,
the markets,
grounds shake,
earthquakes shutter,
the world as we know it crumbles,
in the face of this Western disaster.

But there there's this saxophone...

The brass locks and valves exemplify,
what a mind of my nature never could,
the soul, the elegance, the beauty.

Alas, I am saved.

Thank you.

Summer Feelings?

Dunno... I'm listening to Air right now. Alone in Kyoto. One of my fav songs. Deliciously chill. How's summer? I don't know again. Sometimes I feel like I want to live with my mom, sometimes I feel like I could actually have a life in Minneapolis, and sometimes I just really want to move back to Tallahassee and see how that works out. All I know is I'm indecisive as fuck. I wish I could just live on an ocean with nice crashing waves like the ones on this beautiful song.

The only problem with that is that the weather is changing. I'm afraid a tsunami is going to crash on my ass. Hell, I could surf it, right? If only I knew how to surf. I mean, come on! Three years in Florida and I don't know how to surf? But, really, I'm sort of scared of the world. Maybe it's just me realizing it from maturity, but the weather seems a lot scarier and intense these days. I hear all this crazy stuff from scientific books about how we're overdue for a meteor crash, an ice age, a major earthquake, and a magnetic pole shift. Irregularities in statistical probability only carry on for so long.

I feel like surfing the world in my last couple of days. Surfing to Tibet. Saying hi to my yogis before the actual monster bear of nature gulps down humanity. Some days I feel like I should read a book, but I don't. Some days I feel like picking up the guitar and strummin some tunes. But I put it down too soon. When's the day I'm going to finally put my foot down and take the shit, you know? Accept what I'm worth and kick some ass and take some names.

It better be soon, cause I'm bored. My summer's fucking suck and I just turned 16, but I'm still too freaked out to go take my driver's test for my license. Maybe I could do something for once. Instead of be cooped up in the house with the most depressing damn family in existence. I have a feeling it's not them but rather a manifestation of how shitty Houston, TX is.

I thought I was saved at one point during this summer. You put all your faith in something, and especially me. I put all my faith in someone. Another person who is a thousand fucking miles away from me. I put all my faith in them. I mean, what did I expect? Of course I got fucked. Another time; in the ass. But then again. I do tend to believe in love at first sight. Of course all that means is I'm fucking blind.

I'm really scared of the future. I never thought I would be the type to be scared. I always thought I'd just tuck my tail in and sail with the wind. Which is what I generally do put in the situation, but just sitting here doing nothing allows a ponderous mind to... well... ponder. I just worry, sorta. About what I'm going to do as an adult. I mean I only have two years. I remember at one point thinking I was just going to run off into the big scary world and forget about college and have idyllic carefree journeys in the East. But these days I tend to think about how my mom and dad are going to support themselves after they retire. So I want to get a high-paying job to support them. Is that a little too paranoid? Yeah I thought so.

Well, song update: I'm listening to The Strokes - Is This It?

Fun song. Maybe I should get way too tired and not think about it. But shit, it is already 4:35 AM. I should be asleep and not thinking anyway. I'm supposed to be up early tomorrow too. To meet a friend or something. Fuck it...

Please... float with me now...

At this point I am letting go....

And ONE...

take in a deep breath...

And TWO...

hold it in, slosh it around in your filthy lungs...

And THREE...

let it go... and float...

*Bill Wither - Use Me*

Note: This started playing for twenty seconds then my MP3 player battery died. Motherfucker...

Of Now

What's in a poet?

A rhyme, a soul, a body.
Maybe not a rhyme.
A string of text.

But there's a lotta love.
A whole lotta love for mankind.
Or maybe the polar opposite.
A whole lotta hate.

There sure is a whole lotta human.

But what's in a human?

I'd say a whole lotta everything.

Because we are all too human.

Infuenced by our genes,
and everyone we meet.

We are the culmination of everything around us,
and everything inside of us.

Call it the ultimate experiment.
Life, that is.
Put us into our niche.

We thrive, in some cases.
React mostly.
And very rarely, we create.

Creation is so beautiful.
The polar opposite?
That's destruction.

There's one thing left.
The in-between and maybe the galvanize-r of.
It's love.

Maybe not from one to another.
But also from one thing to another.
We fall in love with ideas,
and we also do fall in love with another.

You sure know what the feels like.

Me?

Post-modern love is the love I know.
and of love, I know nothing.

From wholesome to the quite personal.

I feel nothing but a bubble.

With one more prick it has gotten bigger.

No longer is there direct contact.

But another windshield.


Another glass.




Another-







Barrier.

and then there's nothing...

And some days... I just don't feel anything. I'm not inspired to write this right now... I felt so crappy I got out of bed and played some happy sounding music to make myself not be so fucking hopeless. But there's just this emotion of absolute nihilism, as much as I hate the fucking word.

Maybe... I could read something... but what would the point be?
Maybe... I should educate myself on what's going on in the world... but what's the point there?
Maybe... a lot of stuff.

But... I don't see a point to it. On any one of my happy, upbeat days I would certainly say that the very point to it is actually doing it and experiencing the emotions that come from when you ponder over it and question it... play with it.

Days like these though, I just don't want to care about it. Just find a way to not think at all. Just silence my thoughts, and shut the sound out. Kill the very inklings of questioning. I don't want to imagine what the future holds, or what the past implies.

The probability of everything is gnawing at the back of my brain. The ever-shifting enigma of everything that is here and now. It exists in all our brains. If you don't shut it out, it starts speaking for itself and reminding you of everything you could've done, and what you need to do for this to happen.

There's too much. This wealth of all things possible. I can't let it simultaneously exist with my conscious mind. It is an absolute overload. And, yet, Einstein's theory of time says that time is straight line that can be navigated. And that all things that can happened have already happened. And then here we are: hapless creatures fluctuating throughout all the infinite space and time.

It's hard to find a place to hold on. And every year it gets harder not easier. The string connecting me to safe ground is pulled increasingly taut, and the seams of it are tearing, and threads are breaking lose. The resisting force would sever it at any point now.

Float away into the chaos that we were all born into.

I suppose it would be more zen-like for me to state that it is this chaos we must struggle through and dance with and interact with until we form out a beautiful web of events we call our life.

But fuck zen.

If I was zen-like I wouldn't be here right now. But yet I am. Lost and confused and scared and distressed and angry and anxious and annoyed and pissed.

The source of this feeling is unknown. Maybe it's generic teen angst, but I don't like it, and I just want to kill it.

Just silence the motherfucker. Put it back where it belongs. At the back of my head. Bottle it up, suck all the air out, suffocate the thing, and freeze dry it. Put it back where it came from. Let it sit there until I feel like feeling it again.

Which would be never.

Lonely

Sometimes, I get so lonely.

The Moon

Have you ever stopped to realize that we have a floating body orbiting our planet? I find this concept so fascinating, yet the Moon is not a highly regarded part of our modern life. Every time I look at it looming in the sky, I take for granted that it is an massive celestial body that is accessible even to our feeble existence.

I realize that my feet have stepped on its mass through the vessel of another. That I, as a part of the human race, have stepped upon the boundaries of the heavens, the gate to everything beyond.

The Greeks believed that the stars were just pinpricks in a great spherical container that surrounded the sun, the moon, and our neighboring planets. Science proved them wrong and instead told us that they are millions upon billions of other suns in the great expanse we have come to know as our Universe.

But we can't get there. At least we haven't yet, and for all practical purposes, we never will. It is a currently intractable goal, and that is why we must look a little closer to home.

The Moon orbits the Earth at roughly 238,854 miles. Depending on where it is in its current orbit, it can be slightly closer or farther, but the point is that's pretty damn close. Let's put this in perspective. If you took all the DNA within an average human body and unwound it end on end, you would go to the moon and back 2 times! This confers a beautiful metaphor of an inner ability to reach that heavenly body.

But maybe the important thing isn't getting there at all. Maybe the important thing is realizing that there exists another world entirely. It goes beyond yours, or mine, or anybody in this realm. There is untouched ground, well for now, that we have never laid our covetous hands upon. Land of infinite times, or at least on our species' timelines. Our ancestors saw that same land thousands of years ago, and there it still lies. For your whole life, that same Moon is going to look down upon you, watch your infinite struggles and battles and journeys and revels and sojourns and hardships and successes. Its same face staring at you too, because it is tidally locked to us. It no longer rotates to reveal its "dark side".

Quite honestly, it may be the closest friend you'll ever have. In its infinite neutrality, it will always be there, the same way, the same thing, changing only in the amount of light it reflects in your direction, relative, once again, to its position in its orbit.

I only hope to convey to whoever reads this: when you think you have nothing, and that all is lost, or you think you have everything and need nothing more, there's one thing (among the other things that are infinitely "free") that will always be there to be glorious under your scrutiny. It was there when you were born, and one will only hope it will be there when you die, maybe even be there for the other generations that will come after you.

It's our Moon.

Unforgettable Gift

Well... I've been looking for a useful output of my artistic energy. I'm not very good with art projects and stuff of that sort. I just get bored easily, and I've never found my projects had anything of use for me or anything. But... I can't sleep and I've been thinking about several things... I always do. I was thinking about my bike accident the most. The implications it had for my church and stuff. Annoys the hell out of me. How a reckless stunt like that can take away from so many people. I also feel a sense of betrayal from my church counselor. Pretty much the guy who enthralled me to try the thing took my secrets and made them public in an attempt to justify the action and steer the spotlight away from himself. But I guess people do things they might regret under pressure. Well I guess I don't have many regrets. Back to the point. I'll just start writing stories based on random topics I find on the internet. I need to improve my writing skill, and hell... I might find some things about myself while writing. So that's a healthy reward, right?

----

The Unforgettable Gift: An Autobiographical Moment in Oliver's Mundane Life


When I used to live in Tallahassee, FL in what seems ages ago, there was a spectacular restaurant I discovered a few years after moving there from Texas. It was a sushi restaurant and one not of high class, but rather high service. During the months that I would eat there several times a week, not once did my service get worse, but steadily better. How is this possible? Well, I'll tell you.

I really can't remember the first time I went there, but I remember when I did, the aura of the place was attractive. It was a dimly lit place called Mori's. They served sushi and they had habachi grills at the sides of the restaurant. The whole restaurant has this icky blue carpet, but it gave it a more quiet, laid back feel. It was probably not one of the premier sushi places of Tallahassee, but it was more satisfying then any other I have been to in my life.

My father and I would always go there just for sushi, and more over, sake, or salmon. We got tons of the stuff. We went there again and again, and increasingly, at shorter and shorter intervals. On certain weeks we would go 3-4 times in a row. This is no normal feat considering sushi is a luxury to those with cash to shell out. At least I wasn't spending...

We usually sat at the sushi bar, and over time we noticed that there were two sushi chefs common to the business. Their names, I will never know, unless they work there to this day. One was old, and had a hardened face that looked like it had come straight from Hiroshima. The other was younger, but was still native to his land, and seemed to respect the older one very much. They would always check in on us with their cluttered English asking us, "Iz okaye?" and my dad would never understand, and I'd have to clarify. Then, we'd both nod our heads in a timid manner, eager to get the message that "It kicked ass!" across.

Whenever we left, we'd tip them generously, and this may have an effect on future events, but maybe not.

I don't remember how far into the habitual visits did we start getting free food, but it happened. The young chef had a knack for loyal customers, and a few months before I moved to Minneapolis he started making dishes for us for free. They started as small tapas-sized samplers to whole platters of his inventions. What he made wasn't sushi, and we asked him several times to clarify, though we never got a percievable answer. They were "sashimi salads" or something... There were strips of eel (unagi) on seaweed, mixed with more strips of salmon, and the whole deal was delicious. We were highly grateful, although we did not really know how to express it.

After I'd experienced his generosity several times, I'd sometimes considered working under the chefs as an apprentice when the age was right. I remember I was under the impression that I'd live in Tallahassee forever, until I went to college. I even brought the class application for my would-be high school to the restaurant to look it over with my dad on those last few days in heaven.

When he brought the news up that we were going to move, it held certain ramifications to the young sushi chef and the restaurant. I needed a way of saying goodbye, but alas, those last few days in that town did not give me an opportunity to do so, and I left without saying a word. I'm not sure in what ways this affected my young sushi-making friend, but I'm sure it left him dumbfounded when he had not seen us in days, weeks, then months.

Eventually I did return to the restaurant. It was during my visit there in May of 2006. Almost a year after I'd left. I went there with my older step-sister (for all practical purposes) and I did not see my buddy that assisted me in being a freeloader, but I did see the older chef, and when I saw him, I'm not sure if he recognized me, but he just smiled. I smiled back, a bit taken aback, but I could see no recognition in his eyes, so I figured he had not realized my identity.

So, her and I left, after conversing for a while, and eating a small portion of sushi.

A while later, though I was not there, my father and his girfriend (the mother of the girl) went to the restaurant where they saw the younger sushi chef.

I am not sure of the details of the encounter, but when I saw my father again in the evening he handed me two boxes of chopsticks. These are not your everyday paper-enclosed wood chopsticks. These chopsticks, in a think laquer, decorated with samurai men, lay in cedar, slide-open boxes. I don't know the exact reason for this gift, but it was dear to me, and to this day those boxes still lay on my shelf, on display, and unused.

A suitable gift for an uncommon relationship.

Welcome Back: New Writing Hopefully

Well... It's been a while. I don't know why. My past year has been pretty depressing. I moved from Tallahassee as we all know. Anyone reading this should know that, at least. Unless you're one of those freaks who just surfs blogs. But I love freaks, so it's all good.

I'd rather not discuss the schedule, if you'd call it that, that I would follow during most days in my Freshman year. Only one of two people know about that, so I'll keep it at that. I'll just tell you... it wasn't really as depressing as much as it was just apathetic. Day in and day out I really didn't care for anything. It didn't really become depressing until the end of the year when everyone had their little huddle of buddies, and there I was... a drifter.

It's probably not going to change. At least, not until I, myself change. But enough of that boredom.

I'm now in Texas, visiting my mother and sister. I can't say it's much of an improvement from Minneapolis, but there's a certain freedom about it. Freedom from the eternal schedule and rhetoric of school. The only problem, and I guess this slightly runs throughout my family, and the vast majority of people, is that I'm not doing anything.

I used to envision summer as a time of creation. Thoughts wander and what better than to apply it to something you love? I don't know why I've never created anything. Do I not have patience? A lack of enthusiasm maybe... Maybe I'm young, and little kids don't do anything creative. No, age is only a number, right? Yeah... I guess so.

But here I am, sitting... I've decided to come up with a short story. Once and for all just sit down in this chair. I won't get up until it's done. Until I've fully committed myself to it. Sure, I've said that in the past. But, the past is just that. The past. People say you should leave things behind and learn from your mistakes. What if people are wrong? Lol.

What's changed then? To make me suddenly right and realize my cycle of boredom and apathy is now to suddenly take a turn for the better. Well I'm in an extremely good mood. Feelings are stirring in me that I haven't felt since that eternal bike accident so long ago. I shouldn't make it seem dramatic, because to me it's not. It's that change you say you're going to make every year, then never do. Maybe because you're lazy, or you don't have courage, or whatever else.

When does that change finally happen? I guess you'll see it. It's called the miracle. The break of genius. People always say, "I knew you had it in you." The truth is no one has it in them until they finally formulate that thought in their head and stick with it. I'll be the first to say you can make geniuses out of majority of the population. If people took time and realized how futile their attempts have been in the past to educate people to the point of leading the stereotypically "good" life.

I blame a lot of it on bad raising and parenting.

What am I talking about?

Yeah, it's hard to convey this stuff in words I guess.

A good way to convey anything is short stories. They suddenly have that break in the end. That punch, they call it. It's kind of hard to be productive in such a critical world, but it's all right. Here I go. 1... 2... 3...

Have faith in me, guys.

Oh, Magic Ocean

Magic Ocean

Magic ocean of lies and deceit,

magic ocean, what a treat.

One million deadly dollars,

one million deadly ads.

When were we left to control,

when did the last good days roll.

Sorry to see you go,

this is the way we win.

We won't let you live,

we want to live.

Give me more,

give me a little death.

Sweet swim in an ocean;

an ocean of dollar bills.

The money stopped smelling,

it's lost it's taste;

now left is lust,

it's all just dust.

---

But you didn't know...

Yet. Or did you?

How much more can you handle?

How much more can fit?

Can you bloat it?

You sure can't tote it.

Your collector's collecting,

your birds are singing.

Time to sing a ballad,

time to stop the ringing.

When did I get lost?

The past is in a frost.

You had a disease,

they had the cure.

You needed nothing,

when they needed more.

When you wanted fun,

they said let's get the job done.

More than you wanted,

with more there's always more.

---

Sometimes I dream of nothing.

Nothing, is where the dreams come.

Get rid of it all.

An empty, dusty hall.

Is all you'll need,

not their life of greed.

Clean the dust,

no more lust.

Do you see?

Me?

Not them.

Good.

The want will pass;

faster than that kiss of ass.

Your affluenza has gone.

Have you found your ocean?

Jump in the deep end.

Feel the feel.

Taste the taste.

With no more haste.

It's now your magic ocean.

Magic ocean.

It will always be magic.

Attn: To All Those in Waiting

Stirred on...
The emotional impediment,
is crumbling to sediment.
The love is overflowing,
it will never stop growing.
Hopefully...

Now...
The words, les mots
are filling the once empty pages.
Does emptiness then hold everything?
Does imagination stem from inactivity?
Who can know?
I only know what I have seen,
felt,
and experienced.

Maybe...
Life is nothing,
and in that sense,
in another tense,
life becomes everything.
Your whole world hovering
in the control of your soul's fingers,
that hold steadfast to all you have ever known,
and that no longer hold when all you know is lost.

Never...
Is the birthing ground,
where the drums of life pound.
In the womb of a mother,
or the tomb of another.
If one looks closely,
never contains "ever"
and so does everything.

So, next time you are sulking,
look at someone and hear the beating.
Sometimes, it can be so strong
that you will be pulverized,
and you'll have known you were wrong.

A Musical

So the curtains open. In your scruffy, hot, and itchy costume you can feel the warm sweat beading out, soon to become cold and freeze you to death. Your throat feels parched and no matter how much water you drink you're thirsty. As the curtains part, the faces appear. One by one, expecting; ready to receive what they came for.

A good performance.

Your lips part, and the words come forth, and you're not sure at first, but sure enough, out comes the sound. You prance around, and exaggerate the hell out of expressions. You live someone else's life. You rejoice in change. You live for the expectancy. The thrill. You almost want to mess up!

This is the rush, the chance you take. The emotion that spills forth is genuine. This is all you've ever learned in your life shining into the audience's eyes. And surely, every note is beautiful, gorgeous, emanating from your soul.

The crowd roars. They love you. You are caressed in your own self-respect, you knew you could do it! Why were you worried? Now you express every note as beautiful as the first. The curtains close and there is a glimmer left. A tiny bit of the love. Where is it? "Nice job!" someone says. Oh , it's gone.

Kissed by recognition.
Killed by the close.

This is the life.

What Love

And so I kissed you.
With a thousand kisses.
Now soon I will miss you.
No more sweet kisses.

The lullaby you lulled to me,
the face you fairly conveyed to me.
The moments that you sang to me,
the days that you would sit with me.

Oh fantastic ferocity,
how I felt when you would...
glare should...
dare could...
Stare...

My drunken breath,
with your sweet charm.
How wrong,
such a juxtapose.
Yet it conveyed such prose.

Dare I kiss you again?
Feel you upon me.
Light bosom, a feather,
upon my broken mass,
lying in this grave tether.

You source of liberation!
I see the stars!
Your eyes!
Please laugh with me.
And smile!
Your eyes!

I stared,
ensnared!
You took me,
all of me!

Oh, please, allow me to take you.

There we would lie,
you in my arms.
Upon the grass below the sky!
This feeling, will I cry?

Please enjoy it too,
I care now for only you.
If we could live together,
everyday,
in such a way,
dancing in all stages of weather.

There I would see you,
in the rain,
there in you some kind of pain.
You would be dripping,
the water, oh!

Could I then make you mine?
Take you in my hands,
to where the heavens shine,
emit the light of all godly emotions,
LOVE!

Dry, then, you would be,
and together, us, we'd be.
Can you see?
Or is it just me?

When I found a light in the dark,
I ran to it!
Oh, after such a long time in the dark,
I ran to it!

Shall this light be truly unique,
or akin to the rest,
please!

The stars tell me it's so!
This to you is what I show!

I saw it in your dreams,
you're the one.
They told me so...
you know...

When you smile,
the world as we know it,
is ours.

Is it just desire?
please free me.
My mind will deceive me.

Soon I will feel no love at all.

The Essence of Perception

Sometimes I truly wonder if I am in this world. Living in the US, most people here are down to Earth. I always imagine what it would it would be like if I were to be suddenly put in some chaotic situation. How would I respond? What would I feel? What would I be thinking?

Lately, life is a connection to your body. Other days life is everything you are. Life is really a bunch of electricity circulating through your brain. A bunch of endocrines and hormones move about your brain creating emotion. A bunch of neurons storing all of what you have known and perceived in the world.

But, really, how do we have this thought? Have we ever really stopped and wondered how complicated our thought processes are? How one tiny action can sever our whole connection to this world? Then imagine how there are imperfections in our body. Can there not be imperfections in our own brain. Can abnormal behavior be accounted for by the tiny differences in our structure that make us unique.

Indeed, from one person to the next, our perception of the world is completely different. It is important to remember that whenever you consider multiple sides of an opinion, you remember this. People do not understand and see things the way you understand and see them. They too believe their way is the best way, and they too believe that one way is the best.

Now, think of the whole race of man. This combination of different thought processes and thoughts that have flowed through so many's heads. The satisfaction that comes with the comprehension of some mad idea that suddenly seems sane. How crazy we are in our own magnificent ways.

What makes you beautiful is not what you appear to be to others, but what things appear to be to you. Only then can you react in a way that is beautiful. But your reaction is not where it starts. It all starts in the original action being observed by the eyes of the beholder.

Don't forget: in war, everyone is justified.

Of course, what do I know?

Are we just electricity or is there a true form in which we will all eventually dwell. Your life will be over soon to come; the journey, salvation, nirvana has just begun.

Breathe in the air...

Blog Change

It's hard to explain the feelings that life gives you sometimes. It is for this reason that life is so hard for us so often. We feel like we need a person to share our feelings with, and when you look for that person in life they do not understand you, and you feel belittled because you sound like a babbling moron. It's a fact many share in their lives though not necessarily including everyone.

Right now I feel so very far away from my life. A life that is now long gone and long past. In Tallahassee, I swear everything made sense. It was the best feeling in the world having your home situated in this place, and a place where you knew you could just phone someone up and hang out and lay back.

When I say I feel far away I don't mean as in distance. The distance is the cause; the effect is not distance. The way I'm feeling is a mix of longing and grief because I need those secure feelings of Tallahassee again, yet I know they will never come back again.

When emptiness is stated, it is never truly meant, because only through complete emptiness does life come to us. The beauty, and workings, and incomprehension of it all. You realize that humanity is so incredibly vast and spread out that feeling that secure feeling is a fucking joke.

I now realize my mission in life is not to sit here and be a social king and live in the secured feeling. It is to venture out in to the world and discover for myself the incredible number of meanings to this world, for if there were one we would all have no point of living. The fact is life is to love man, and that is what you must do to enjoy life.

The things life gives you are wrested down deep inside your own body. Only after complete exodus of all the materialistic and desiring and selfish sheds of skin will you begin to realize how temporary our life on this beautiful planet is.

Therefore, my life, and everyone related to it will change in a soon time. I'm sure people have heard me talking about this in some other time, and probably thought I was joking, but as soon as I graduate from whatever college and have a fair amount of education, I'm not going to get a job in the damn United States. Who even knows if this shit country will still be around by then.

I plan to explore the world and apply whatever knowledge I have to help myself and others live in this world. Then I may rest knowing that I have at least tried and hoped to understand this magnificence called the Earth.

To all, my blog is now my posting station of life, not my life, but the life and the living.

Oliver D.

In Houston, Prolly Not Returning

Hello there, all my loyal blog readers. *smirk* Sorry for the long delay, but I didn't have Internet here for a while, and when I finally got it, I didn't even bother to post here. Hopefully, I'll be able to semi-catch everyone up with the latest happenings.

Well, I flew to Houston almost a month ago. My dad bought me tickets that were rounnd trip (no use now, read on) for me to originally return on August 13, though, I got a call from my Pop the other day. The situation goes like this:

My dad is going to be buying me a one-way ticket to Minneapolis, which is where I will inevitably live until Christmas Break '05, and then, he says, if I am still unhappy, I have the choice of living with friends in Tallahassee again. Yep, it really looks like it won't work with Ryan this time. To all my friends in Tally reading this, I'm sorry, but it sucks.

I've already tried every known (to me) method of extracting sympathy. Everyone says I should move, because I'll definitely make new friends of the same importance or even more so. I really have a hard time believing that. Well, I guess I'll be finding out soon.

Anyway, Houston hasn't been too bad. It's been kind of cool seeing all my old friends and stuff. It's also been pretty eventful. In fact, just today, in the mail, I recieved the two Flaming Lips shirts that I've been waiting for, for so long. (3-4 days)

I hope this post has updated some people. I'll talk to everyone later, and you faithful blog readers too.