Friday, December 29, 2006


...the royal handicap was set to nought divided by zero equals one thing we all have in common room is a nice place to have dinner will be served at the usual time for one more thing from the movie on the top shelf broken from the weight of the books another criminal and the city is made safe containing gold and silver at the back of the vault was nearly eight feet have been in the shoes all day to get some shopping done with my homework and ready to go to bed of beautiful roses and pansies from texas telling me how to live my life on the sea can be quite difficult shot here on the par four maids went about their work after the butler had entered the tunnel and we all make a wish that Kenneth will return from the great war made upon thy neighbors all gathered around the scene of the crime that prices have gone so high until it was made sure that the royal handicap was set to nought divided by zero equals...

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

A Shower-Born Revelation

So I was in the shower a few days ago, musing over the fact that I can't, and have never been able to, quite get the order of the months right. This isn't the important part (besides, when I have to I can always count them out on my hands). The important bit of this revelation is that the months' numbers are off.

I realized that I could recall the order of the last few months with relative ease...why is that? I wondered absently. The answer hit me like a drop of water from the showerhead.

it's because they're already numbered.

September - from the roman septem- for seven.
October - from the roman octo- for eight.
November - from the roman novem- for nine.
December - from the roman decem- for ten.

I had never realized this before two days ago...and it blew my mind. What also blew my mind was that the numbers are apparently two off.

I found out later that this is because the roman calendar, from which these names are all derived, began in March instead of January. In fact, july and august used to have similarly prefixed names, but were later renamed for roman emperors (July for the month Julius Caesar was born, and August for Augustus).

Anyway, I found it interesting, but you don't have to.

Sunday, December 17, 2006

Trouble at Santiago Point - VI

Part VI - Trouble at the Pitch Black Shirt Shack

The old man had been taken care of easily enough. The last bullet in his pistol was exactly what he needed to make some peace and quiet for himself.

Stepping over the corpse of the ex-wizard, One-Eye-Jim surveyed his surroundings and, for the first time in a while, felt content. It wasn't the silence, the kill, or the pristine beauty of the meadow before him; rather, it was the return of the burning need for revenge which had lit the fire in his soul for so much of his life. With newfound direction in life, he set out to search for clues as to who had buried him this time.

Before long, he found himself staring at an old wooden sign, hanging by rusted nails from the limb of an elm tree.

There came a grim thought, suddenly juxtaposed with the recurring image of California,


The sign before him read, "MEDIEVAL FAIRE"

The End?

Wednesday, December 6, 2006

rally round yourself
as a wall round a fortress
like a wall round the country
who cares not of its neigbors

lay yourself aground
as the beasts in the forests
like the monks in their towers
and for once enjoy the view

open yourself
as an open drawbridge
like a courtyard of stone
and see the wealth within

Sunday, December 3, 2006

Trouble at Santiago Point

Part V - Trouble at Ye Olde Parallel Narrative

About five feet up from another one of his early graves, and customarily with only one more foot to go, One-Eye-Jim was tired of eating dirt.

Sure, those weaklings in Texas kept telling him that he only had to dig, that eating the dirt was completely pointless...but who's dead now, texas weaklings? That's right, the texas weaklings. Although, he was fairly grateful for the layer of topsoil he was currently ingesting; sixty pounds of clay is hard to keep down. And with unrivaled tenacity, he kept on eating.

With unrivaled tenacity, the Wizard waited...stared at the stone...and hoped.

Jim hoped that he was close. He hadn't breathed air in nearly five hours...heh, that was another thing the weaklings had preached, breathing.

The breath was caught in the Wizard's throat. He watched as the ground stirred, then rumbled, then erupted in a shower of debris...and when the cloud of dust cleared, he knew he had not been led astray. The man he'd waited so many years for was emerging, face first, out of the very earth below him.

Jim emerged, finally, coughing up a stone which had been laid atop his grave.

The stone landed at the Wizard's feet. Ecstatic, the Wizard cried, "The stone of Anadarko! The prophecy is complete!"

Completely oblivious to the old man behind him, jumping around and shouting of stones, One-Eye-Jim adjusted his eyepatch, knocked the dirt out of his ears, and for the first time, heard the shouts and ramblings of an old man who seemed to be wearing a halloween costume.

"Ugh, where am I? California?"

The End?!

Sunday, November 26, 2006

Procrastination Now!

Here's another one I've dug from the vault, but it still stays as relevant as ever.

“Procrastinate now, don’t put it off”
-Ellen Degeneres
As far back as I can remember in my scholastic career I have been a procrastinator. Some may call this practice reprehensible, and indeed many—even those who indulge in the habit themselves—have made the case that nothing good can come of waiting until the last minute. I am here to refute these claims, and shine the blinding light of truth unto those who put down putting-off. My goal in life is to show all citizens of Earth that procrastination is not a bad habit, but instead, when in the hands of a true procrastinator, it can become art.
I have noticed one significant change between high school and the collegiate life that I’d like to address first: most of the students that I’ve met here do not take procrastination seriously. This statement may seem like a paradox, but when you take last-minute work as seriously as a true artist does, then everything else just becomes laziness. For me, procrastination is not about being lazy; it is simply the best way that I feel that things can be done. Around here I find a different trend among the students: they will wait until the night/morning before the assignment is due, but then won’t sit down and make a real effort to produce a quality piece of work. Kids these days will put the minimum amount of effort into a paper or assignment just so they will get some sleep, and consequently, a mediocre grade. A true artist, however, knows that sleep is greatly overrated and also that a chance to create a masterpiece comes only once in a while. A true artist will pour their soul into that work, because at 5:30 am, when there’s nothing but coffee and Red Bull racing through your veins, your soul is free for you to give.
While we’re on the topic, Red Bull is a god sent nectar, fueling dreams and giving hearts the courage to beat on. This has always been my motto, along with “everybody wang-chung tonight”, and it is because of the help of large quantities of the aforementioned stimulant that I survived high school with only minor heart attacks along the way. Coffee, “energy drinks”, and cheese pizza rolls have carried me through countless research papers, art projects, and gargantuan physics assignments. During the last month of my senior year I could usually be found by following the trail of empty Red Bull cans I seemed to leave in my wake (although I strongly advocate not littering). I am sure that ten out of ten doctors will agree that this is not a healthy way to live, but some of my best work has come from this period. Red Bull and other “Procrastination Aids” also help by keeping the important parts of the mind sharp as a razor, while sleep deprivation brings out the maximum creativity in the rest.
I know what you’re thinking, and yes, it is currently 3:46 am, I have classes starting at eight, this is due in less than six hours, and I’ve had three hours of sleep in the last twenty-four hours…and truthfully, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Saturday, November 25, 2006

Trouble at Santiago Point

Part IV - Trouble at the Military Monastery

The lone Wizard stood in a field of grass looking at his sole possession, a crinkled bit of parchment, worn out long ago by too many readings. Waiting for today. The parchment told of a prophecy, of the coming of a messiah, of many things too cryptic to decipher. But one thing was was happening today, and not more than two meters from where the Wizard stood.

The field was empty, save some grass scattered with wildflowers and a single stone. The stone itself was nothing special; however, it marked a location whose significance only the Wizard truly knew. The messiah was to raise himself from his eternal sleep and arise at that very spot.

The Wizard, with white flowing beard and pointed hat, stood ready for the second coming of the man whose name was only given by a cryptic symbol, a single eye in a field of green.

The End(?)

Monday, November 20, 2006

Bored in the Computer lab

the tidal pull of the moon starts to lessen
when the waters recede to their sands
the meeting will have been in session
but adjourned with a show of five hands

Another random bit of prose

Somewhere within, waiting, it bides its time.
Directly outside, unaware, he enters unknowingly.

Fangs and fur flash in the darkness, an explosion of sound and movement, and then: silence.

Somewhere within, waiting, it bides its time.

Friday, November 17, 2006

Epic Limerick - The Secular Tragedy Part I of III

There lived a strange man in a zoo.
deamed of returning to Kathmandu.
he dreamed of his home
and he wrote many tomes
block print on sides of his shoe

the warden had found this odd
one day while feeding him cod
fish souffle was on par
con que esta en el mar
for the man with literature shod

a daring escape had been made
one evening in shadows and shade
a last hastened glance
for he'd left his pants
still in the cage where they'd laid

with captivity far behind
in a place where no one would find
his huddled shape
sharing cage with an ape
chewing on leftover rind

the plane set down with a thud
it seems they've landed in mud
with the gears all amuck
and the ball bearings stuck
the grand entrance looked like a dud

but the uncharted jungle awaits
stranded en route to kuwait
with a slash and a hack
he fights foliage back
and does so to this very date.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

Man vs. Beast

Ok, I've been talking about it for years, I've sworn that someday I'm going to write a book over this subject, and so now I'm finally getting it published...on this site.

There is only one thing that makes humans different from the rest of the animals. Conceptualization. All of thought can be divided into three categories: perception, reaction, and conceptualization. The first two being shared by all thinking organisms on earth. The third, however, is what makes us unique and grants us the power to rise above our surroundings and change not only the environment around us, but also our very lives.

An example to illustrate these concepts: A rabbit finds a carrot growing in a field (perception), the rabbit eats said carrot (reaction), and then goes on looking for more. It took a human mind to take this process one step farther and say, and I'm paraphrasing, "Whilst going about my nomadic ways, I come across this field once a year; and every year I find carrots growing anew. Perhaps I can harness the carrot's periodicity and grow my own, thereby creating a much more stable food supply" (conceptualization).*

One more short you ever see a racehorse stretch before the race?

Conceptualization, or abstract thinking, is something that we all as humans should embrace. Too often in today's society do we see people reduced to animals with respect to the way that they think. Too much emphasis is placed on the immediate, with little or no concern about the long term effects of short-term thinking. As a college student I see this happening far too often.

Things like drinking, smoking, and ecstasy-induced-rave-hallucinations may be fun at the time, but often have disasterous consequences in the long-term. Even things like (I hate to go this far but...) fatty foods have their later repercussions which should be noted.

I try to explain this to short-termers who simply scoff and tell me that I'm boring because I don't smoke crack. These people who shrug off going to their morning classes due to their hang-overs. These people who wonder why they fail classes.

Jose Ortega y Gasset makes it a point that each of our lives is nothing but a sum total of the decisions we've made in the past.** We make decisions based upon where we want our life to go (whether we're conscious of it or not). Thousands of these choices made every day can add up to mean the difference between law school or working at Wendy's.

Every choice you make has an effect on your life. Long-term decisions lead to long-term happiness.

*For a conflicting viewpoint on agriculture, i.e. it is the root of all human suffering today, see the novel Ishmael by Daniel Quinn.
**Jose Ortega y Gasset, What is philosophy?

Saturday, November 11, 2006

Random Bit of Prose

I've always liked the idea of being a writer, but two things have always gotten in my way. #1. Grammar #2. The fact that I never seem to be able to write more than a couple of paragraphs on a given subject. Maybe there's a market for it somewhere. But until then, here's one that I've pulled out of the vault in order to populate my posts.

There came a rumbling from deep within the ground, a sound and fury that made it seem as though the earth were going to open up below me and nothing but Dante’s Inferno would await me there. The pain was a cold slap in the face that brought me back to reality, it was my guts that were aching, it was my stomach that was growling, but nothing had ever been this bad. It felt as though my insides were waging war with the rest of me, as though they had gotten sick of the tyranny of the nervous system and they were striking back. I knew it was only a cold. I told myself over and over again that it was just the flu. I repeated the mantra until it was the truth. But something warned me that this was different, that something this time was very special. My guts were eating me alive. And it felt like it.

(Inspired by the short story "Guts" by Chuck Palahniuk)

Trouble at Santiago Point

Part III - Trouble at the Aviary Mortuary

Jim opened his eyes and felt for the first time the pain that was shooting through his back. Wow, he’d been stabbed again.
It was dark all around him, and enclosed, but nicely padded. He figured that he’d been buried alive again. That’s right, it wasn’t the first time that some renegade cattle-rustler looking for a buck had tried, and succeeded at putting him in his early grave.
He’ll just have to dig himself up again.
Dirt filled his eyes and lungs as he fought to eat his way out of his coffin. Apparently whoever had killed him had decided to make it harder for him by tying his wrists.
Oh well, whoever did it would be dead soon.
The End?

Trouble at Santiago Point

Part II - Trouble at Dry Mulch Gulch

One-eye-Jim had gotten his revenge. He had shot that no good kid who took his eye out with that slingshot, and shot him good. After the first thirty bullets entered the scoundrel’s body, he had to go to the general store to buy some more to put in him. But it felt so good to do so.
He was sitting now in a seedy tavern, sipping a fine sarsaparilla and milling over his recent victory. Jim was so full of the stout beverage that he didn’t even notice when he was backstabbed by one of his best friends. Literally. Actually stabbed. With a knife.
The End?

Trouble at Santiago Point

(This is just the beginning of my soon-to-be epic twenty three part series)

Part I - Best Served Cold
It was a cold, dark night on the prairie. One-eye-Jim stares down the barrel of his rifle, the cold, metallic feeling on his cheek reminding him perpetually of his goal.
The night wore on until he had shot the man who took his eye.
The End?