U ga cho

Chaiwala, chaiwalla.

Ahschno, ahhashno.

Gita-paramita. Shreeva-shrivala.

Que les darmas, sheehugu.

Mai paiwa-sheebo sheeba.

Daiga hoo kiga ta?

Ey sherman? Khee bahlo?

Amar nom Arun.

T'apar nomu d'es qui?

Sangha, meh dharma, mei karma.

Shree linga, dung fur.

Capoiera battu ghutuju.

Saphi ghee choo.

He acha keh go.

Beefa doo. Yoof. Hee...

Der Hebbutz ein Glibbitz

Candenfeld ist von cranch?

Vender le-lichet es informachen dan tes tetes?

Oh tes lutes, tes lutes!!!

Estet showen vie, et lets lie, lets lie.

Madame, hein, go rot, et vanderflow.

Glibbetz fon vin et lester vruss les fuhren.

Ugh, keeshtell moin logfurr, et tes et tes et crux.

Clairvoyage eh liebershumph, et crux.

Oh svindel et crux.

Chute mes informaticiens et quandche les femmes qui ein dames.

Rachistas dominant des les negres, commandez-tes bouches.

Richardon muddkampf parse-von vix-crux-mort.

Zen karm-non!

Vm dm omh omh omh.

Et saldans, il n'y a rien.

Au dieu...

Space Raps

Yeah, so it's Sunday night, but I don't have school tomorrow cause it's MLK Day. I got a paper to write. World Lit. I haven't started yet. That shit is important though. I'll start.

I need to write. I feel a desire to splurge out, and this is where I always go. So much to say. Life is going so well. Blasting out fucking smooth music, and sitting here with homework in front of me that will, and I say will get done.

I got the lead in the musical, I no longer feel shitty when my dad says shit, and I have friends, the ones that were always there, but now I accept them as friends. Because this is my home now: Minneapolis.

There is just an ultimate satisfaction when you're doing something you enjoy. I've been doing everything I enjoy. Going to the gym everyday and getting beastly, singing my heart out, running around like a fool, and just not giving a damn. I've stopped watching TV and I'm trying to wean off this computer shit. So much more time...

And then there's this ultimate feeling of rest and at ea
se with myself. I feel a circle of light that shines around my head and illuminates. And when I talk to people that light stretches and hopefully connects to their light, and we just understand. Talk and no war. Drift and no heat. Out and no burst.

So maybe the sun sets at 5:30 on a cold, cold winter day. A warm voice and a stormy mind keeps one out of the gutters and onto the town square where you share and love one another.

I guess I'm ready for shit now. For everything. Whatever you throw at me, throw it now. And I'll deal. I can dance, and that's all you need. You just gotta kinda know what you're doing, and do it as best as you can and the rest just comes. Then the dance gets better, and more fluent, and free-flowing, and spontaneous.

And remember to smile. Because that's where the light really comes from.

Oliver Dutta

Mrs. Kouneski

APUSH Period 3

4 June 2007

The Space Race: How the US became the Premier Superpower

As World War II came to a close, both the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics emerged as the two superpowers of the world. They were the only ones who could walk forward with a strong economy and a conceited example of just how one should run their government. For many though, the progress and success of their governments was measured by their military technology and moreover, their ability to conquer the new arena: space. Indeed, the world came to look at their numerous achievements as benchmarks conveying the superiority of their respective forms of government. In 1969, however, the first manned lunar landing in the history of mankind had won the US their title as the reigning superpower, as they would hold for the rest of the century.

On October 4^th, 1957, the USSR shocked the world with Sputnik 1. It was the first artificial object to be put in space. Unprecedented, it was considered ludicrous that a country that had just embarked from a society of peasant farmers could somehow rise up out of the biggest war in history and display such technological adeptness (Newton 11) . After this event, people began to look at the USSR with interest, somehow regarding their idea of communism as the source of this miraculous event.

The United States' response was seen as less than spectacular. Two months later, in early December, the US attempted to launch their very own Vanguard TV-3. American hopes were dashed when the tiny 3.1 lb object exploded roughly more than a meter off the ground (Newton 18-19) .

The American public no longer believed that the USA was the world's technological leader. They were now the ones lagging behind. As tensions heightened there was a competition between the two superpowers of the world called the space race (McConnell 12) . Along with their sense of pride shattered, Americans now turned paranoid as the realization that there was a floating foreign satellite gliding over their heads became apparent (Cadbury XI) .

The reason behind the inefficiency displayed by the US was due to the fact that the space program was divided between the three branches of military: the army, air force, and navy. The navy was the manufacture of the first two satellites and the first two failures. It was not until the army designed their first satellite and rocket propulsion system, that the US was able to reach space with their own Explorer 1 on January 31, 1958 (Newton 22-23) . Why had it taken almost three months and two failed launch attempts for this even to occur? Obviously there was something wrong with the current system of putting objects into space. The American people looked to Eisenhower for an answer, while Democrats criticized his administration for being not aggressive enough to counter the Soviet Union's success (Schefter 43) .

Eisenhower did have a response, however, and it was an agency called the National Aeronautics and Space Agency, or more commonly known as NASA. He proposed a plan for it's structure and function in a speech on April 2, 1958. He set it up for the following four reasons:

(1) the compelling urge of man to explore; (2) the need to assure that full advantage is taken of the military potential of space; (3) the effect on national prestige of accomplishment in space science and exploration; and (4) the opportunities for scientific observation and experimentation while will add to our knowledge of the earth, the solar system, and the universe. (McConnel 27)

The bill for the creation of NASA was passed on July 29, 1958. The foundation for the USA's victory in space was now built. The agency would take in huge sums of money in time to come; $740 million by 1962 (Cadbury 185) .

The next phase of the space race was the one that lasted the longest by far. It was essentially a back and forth game of space achievements that would only be eclipsed by the arrival of man on the moon. The steps to this victory however are long and vast, and just why was the moon the deciding factor? To see the answer to this you must first observe the progression of the space race.

Not long after the success of Sputnik and other successful USSR launches, the line was extended by a huge margin yet again. On April 12, 1961, Yuri Gagarin became the first man in space, with a 108-minute long single Earth orbit (McConnell 15) . A rigorously tested young man, raised to be super patriotic to his country (Schefter 107) , he would later be one of the major figureheads in USSR propaganda and a major proponent of the USSR space program (McConnell 42) . Voice of Russia, a USSR propaganda program, dispersed by radio waves seized on to this moment for huge propaganda gain, displaying Gagarin's life story and how he struggled to achieve his dream and was able to do so thanks to the efficient socialist society under the USSR (McConnell 55) . This move gave a huge burst of support for the communist/socialist form of government that the USSR so desperately projected as an example.

Once again, the world turned it's head toward the USSR as the leader in the space race (McConnell 15) . One month later, the US could only respond with their feeble suborbital flight performed by Alan Shepherd. Originally a man who was very disappointed in the fact that the Russians has beat America to space (Schefter 136) , he faced humiliation as he was only able to reach space half-way. By this time, the USSR clearly had the lead.

Tables finally turned in February 20, 1962, when John Glenn became the first American in space, and was able to complete three complete Earth orbits. His flight gave a huge boost to the egos and prides of American citizens and gave the US a large stride in the space race by displaying that a man could pilot a pod back to earth (McConnell 17) . The fact was John Glenn experienced autopilot troubles while in space and to counter these and successfully land his pod he had to switch over to manual fly-by-wire controls that Soviet pilots had never used (Cadbury 194) .

Up to this point, the USSR has the world's attention much more so than the USA did, despite the fact that the US had put more technologically advanced and successful missions up. The fact remained that the USSR had done more firsts. They had put the first satellite, animal, man, woman, and functioning piece of technology into space (Newton 131) , and that was more passionate than just revising on the old, as the US seemed to be doing.

So now that the events illuminating how man stepped into space are shown, what changed so that the moon played such a large role in determining who the superior nation was? The answer is the Gemini project, the publicity it obtained, and how the USSR responded to it.

In 1965, NASA began development on a two-man Gemini project after they felt they had exhausted the one man module. There were several goals with this project including progressing to a new project (Apollo) that would ultimately take them to the moon (McConnell 18) . There were many motivations behind these new goals, but the ultimate influence behind it came from a speech by John F. Kennedy in 1961 that voiced the necessity of a program that would land Americans on the moon:

First, I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the earth. No single space project in this period will be more impressive to man-kind, or more important for the long-range exploration of space; and none will be so difficult or expensive to accomplish. We propose to accelerate the development of the appropriate lunar space craft. [ ... ] But in a very real sense, it will not be one man going to the moon—if we make this judgment affirmatively, it will be an entire nation. For all of use must work to put him there. (McConnell 38-39)

. These new goals were as followed: (1) Equipment and astronauts were to be subjected to trips that were two weeks in length, the approximate time for a lunar mission; (2) astronauts would have to successfully rendezvous and dock with other orbiting vehicles; (3) astronauts would perfect safe methods of reentry and landing; and (4) create the means upon which to land on the moon. (Reeves 241)

These goals were both easily accomplished in that same year. Gemini 6 and Gemini 7 finished each goal consecutively, and the final intended goal of lunar landing was shifted to the Apollo program. The actual feats accomplished by the Gemini program did not matter so much as did it's implications and the reactions taken by Russia and world.

For at this point, people of the world now realized that the United States may not have been originally outfitted with taking the playing field into space, but they were able to maneuver it much more efficiently. The US had far surpassed the USSR in successful launches and useful technology. (Schefter 312)

The reason for this was due to the fact that after their numerous unprecedented accomplishments, Russian scientists began to focus much more on automated computer satellites rather than crafts that could transport humans (Reeves 206) . According to Yuri Gagarin, the result, as the USSR forgets about their symbolic achievements and focuses on AI, is that the people of the world will start to look at the USA's new achievements as much more personal (McConnell 52) . This fact was confirmed by Reeves in his analysis of the reaction of international citizens concerning the change (146) .

As expected, the public now turned away from idyllic Russia, and towards the USA as the USA began to appear more space-savvy and it became clear that JFK's goal from 1961 was what was necessary to turn the spotlight on the USA once and for all (Schefter 12) . With this in mind, administrators at NASA began the Apollo program after Gemini was terminated in 1967 (Cadbury 288) .

Apollo 8 was the mission that helped shift the eyes of the world to the United States in anticipation. The USA had sent a successful module orbiting around the moon and was able to collect images from the orbit. These images were then sent to Earth in December 1968 when the mission occurred (Reeves 300; McConnell 19) .

Around the time, in the USSR, many people were worried, namely cosmonauts who were extremely upset that the US was taking these huge steps toward going to the moon, yet the USSR administration still refused to fund and support manned craft research. But by the time any of the cosmonauts were able to create change, the final key was put into place for the USA (Schefter 269) .

Apollo 9 and 10 soon perfected the practice of docking between crafts in lunar orbit and the like. After the first two steps of what would be necessary to land on the moon were taken, it somehow created an atmosphere around the world of expectation (McConnell 19) . Expectation leading up to the final goal, which was the surface of the moon.

The reason for this expectation, and the publicly set victory to whoever got to the moon first was due to the USSR overlooking what the people around the world expected of them, and the US using their cunning with superior scientists and idealistic goals (Schefter 140) . Both superpowers had somehow accidentally navigated themselves into a fight for the superpower above superpowers. Whoever would obtain that goal was dependent on who landed on the moon. The USA had taken advantage of the situation and gained victory.

On July 20, 1969, Neil Armstrong and “Buzz” Aldrin, both American astronauts touched down, and stepped out of their lunar module (McConnell 90) . They had fulfilled JFK's goal from the beginning of the decade (Newton 79) , and they captivated the world. 700 million astounded viewers watched the event together as a single human race (Reeves 291) . Neil Armstrong's famous words were:

That's one small step for (a) man, one giant leap for mankind. (Newton 85)

As far as the world was concerned the space race was over, although it did not officially end (according to most historians) for another 6 years. The truth is, despite the ultimate definition of the space race, it was concluded, based on personal, public thoughts, by the landing on the moon.

The end of the space race, although declaring the USA the victor, paved way to international cooperation. Nixon took a step toward peace by declaring a message of unity:

The heavens have become a part of a man's world... For one priceless moment in the whole history of man all the people on this earth are truly one—one in their pride in what you have done and one in our prayers that you (Armstrong and Aldrin) will return safely to earth. (McConnell 20)

The Soviet Union went on to abandon it's Voskhod program, designed to put a man on the moon, without succeeding. It also abandoned it's new models of space stations, and attempted to establish an international compromise on a space station design. This would eventually lead the the construction of Mir and later the International Space Station. (Newton 112)

The Soviet Union and the United States also went on to agree that space and future space stations would not be in the interests of a military nature. It would just go on to stress national debts on both sides if so. Instead, the modern space station is used to study the effect of long-term space flights and conducting other types of research.

The space race ultimately became the most healthy example of Cold War competition. There was not much fear mongering, as both sides of the battle attempted to capture the rest of the world's hearts and minds. Due to this, it was rather benevolent in nature, no matter how much of a rivalry existed between the two nations.

The lunar landing, as well, set the stage for a new age of man in space. Despite the fact that this hailed one nation in higher regard than the other, it was regarded upon as a competitive win rather than one of war. It paved the way for future missions to the moon and to neighboring planets such as Mars that have an impact on daily culture to this day. (McConnell 21)

To this day, the majority of space exploration remains peaceful. After the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, the USA became the only superpower in space until China and India made their own attempts in the late 90s and early 2000s. Despite recent dearths in innovation, the USA and NASA are still regarded as the premier power in space. NASA also plans to return to the Moon in the next decade. Thanks to the lunar landing and peaceful negotiations space is an arena now shared by everyone. This fulfills JFK's intentions as stated in 1962:

We have vowed that we shall not see space filled with weapons of mass destruction, but with instruments of knowledge and understanding. Yet the vow of this nation can only be fulfilled if we in this nation are first, and therefore we intend to be first. (McConnell 21)

Works Cited

Cadbury, Deborah. Space Race: The Epic Battle between America and the Soviet Union for Dominion of Space. New York: HarperCollins, 2006

McConnel, William S. Living Through the Space Race. Detroit: Thomson-Gale, 2006.

Newton, David E. U.S. And Soviet Space Programs: A Comparison. New York: Watts, 1988.

Reeves, Robert. The Superpower Space Race: An Explosive Rivalry through the Solar System. New York: Plenum, 1994

Schefter, James. The Race: The Uncensored Story of how America beat Russia to the Moon. New York: Random House, 1999.

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.