FIGHT FOR SOMETHING – anything.

Where are we in the end? Everything is infinitely short, there has to be something more.

It lies in the infinite possibilities of a lifetime. A lifetime devoted to every wondrous thing that ever glittered in our eyes, to everything we ever were and no one else was, to being something where everything is pushing for each of us to be nothing. It is this life force that is burning with desire, craving for something that’s never been done before. How could we live a life without ever recognizing it, much less following through with it? There is something more, and it lies in the realm of everything that takes our breath away. In the unrecognizable. In everything that’s strange and incredible. Eternity is here. Right now. Grab on to it before it slips away.

It’s running its fingers across my soul and blending in with the cosmic music of the heart of this UNIVERSE. It’s passing through me and on to you. It’s shooting up to the stars and exploding high in this world’s heavens. And now it’s plummeting into my upturned face – free fall times a million, striking me through like lightening, into my eyes. And finally, I’m melting into the ground.

Our bodies are the most beautiful things we will ever know. I’m not trapped anymore. I never was.

another trusty picture summary:

cuz i'm lazy. but you love it...


aww...maRRRRy!


look at that face. (he even has an agent - for serious.)


harry and lloyd: men after my own heart


the mother of all sombreros


the boys we SCHOOLED in beirut.


i think i may have actually gotten my eyes to go in two different directions


b on her second to last day as a 19-year-old


me punch-drunk in the LUV sack. (so comfy.)


b poppin the DOUBLE collar, and aaron with some brass knuckles, perhaps?

this really is quite an endearing picture

mitch trying to look innocent after making fun of someone. we see right through you mitch!

i don't quite remember the motivation behind this picture

look at them! such happy people...

woah there! simmer down, young man

Rest in Peace

Today’s subversive half of the world lost yet another one of its prominent members. The departure was not all too sudden, however, as he had been fading for awhile. Passion, love, and dissidence were traded in for fair-weather thoughts and feelings, egotism, and conformity. Said individual chose to become anonymous, and is survived only by former cohorts who were finally and, after a long battle, resolutely willing to let him go. He now enters the numb realm of sell-outs, posers, and other stray individuals. Should he continue to traverse deeper into the nine circles of his new reality, a path he has settled upon embarking, he will enter calmly into the arms of 2.4 children, ~ 50K per annum, and Corporate Everyland. Respects may be paid through individual extensions of selves and reminiscences, though these will likely fall on deaf ears. For persons who wish to know the place of internment: if you know who he is, then you’ll know how to find him. Some may remember him as the person who told others to kill him if this was what he was ever to become. Unfortunately, he got to it before they ever could, and now he has left this world forever. But do not fret, dear reader, he is untouchable.

God speed – or whatever it is you’d say.

5-10-03

here's one of those nifty notebook entries. it's old, worn out, and perhaps a little more impersonal because i've shared it before, so now i feel less guilty. be entertained by my 15-year-old mind!

here creeps in this sallowness
that sucks the life unfaught
that smothers those with hopes and dreams
and snuffs the light they sought

conquering their pithiness
and defeating they who saw
nothing but their own wan lives
with dreams chaffed bare and raw

they only saw a one-fold path
all diversions pushed aside
for the peripheral view that they had lost
contained what was meant to hide

they thought that if they focused
looking forward would pull them through
yet the distractions found their own way by
for they were all that was left and true

and then their was their own doomed fate
disguised and found its way
it unmasked itself in their reverie
and eclipsed the gilded day

unedited, unabridged - you have it all, minus the cute handwriting.

why i will rocket into the sunset...

yesterday i got yelled at by an old man. well, maybe not so much yelled at as lectured at, but it's all the same with those codgers because they're senile and can't hear very well, so it always sounds like they're shouting at you. so what merited this undue discourse? i’ll tell you what! i, in all of my good schoolgirl glory, was innocently riding away from my poetry and poetics class, when all of a sudden, i happened upon a curb. now this was no small matter: the curb was an astounding six inches high – enough to do some real damage. but being the adventurous young lass that i am, and furthermore, having no other way to go on my merry way without bypassing this staggering son-of-a-bitch, i decided to take my chances. i rode my bike off of the small giant. now, i know what you’re thinking. “that girl’s an idiot. she could have done a number on herself, either flying head-over-heels across the top of her handlebars, launching herself into a nearby bush, or worse, landing in front of another biker and causing the mother of all bike crashes.” but please, rest assured that i knew what i was getting myself into. in fact, i like to consider myself quite the, uh, “curb expert.” moreover, since my brother and i were about six and eight years old, respectively, we have been conquering bike jumps, flights of stairs, and rough terrain on rocky mountain trails. now i’m not gonna lie and say this curb wasn’t a toughy – i mean, no matter how big of a baller you are on a bike, there will always be bumps (and curbs) in the road to keep you in check, but i had this one handled. my worst fears were put to rest when i made it through the episode, alive and pedaling. so as i was riding away from my small personal victory, i heard a voice coming up behind me on my left. now you would think that this would be a voice of concern for my well being, or perhaps even a voice tinged with anger at the notion that i could have barreled into its possessor. but no, it was a self-righteous, somewhat impatient tone, curtly declaring, “yurr going to brrreak yurr spokes thet waay.” dear lord, i thought, as i quickly whipped my head around, frantically searching for the origin of that outlandish sound. “whaaa?” i replied. my stately, gray headed old friend rode into view. “if you do thet, yurr going to brreak yurr spokes. you do not want the prressure like thet.” judging by the fact that he had a funny accent and sported a messenger bag, i figured he was from somewhere in eastern europe. “ah. thank you sir. you have a nice day now. don’t go riding your bike off of a giant rock face because you were too busy playing road monitor!” (i didn’t really say that.) and with that, he sped by, riding off into the distance like a good sameritan, his outline enfolded by the vastness of the horizon as it illuminated him – him that had taught me a lesson. i couldn’t help but bask in the beauty of this new knowledge that had so fleetingly been imparted to me. you learn something new every day right, but this…this was profound. i never imagined that when i rode off of that six inch embankment, that moments later i would be in the presence of such wisdom and generosity.

let’s be honest though – my bike’s a complete beater, another fine product of the stanford bike shop. on top of the thousands of dollars that i’m expected to fork out each year for tuition, i’m compelled to come up with another couple hundred to purchase the masterpiece that will serve as the vehicle for my academic escapades for four years. now i’m not making any value judgments, but i find it interesting that the schmucks at our fine bicycle establishment have the audacity to bestow me with something that has rusted gears that hardly work, a lock that sticks, and a light that is shoddily duct taped onto the handle bars. (said light was stolen sometime last year.) but i can handle that. i’m just sayin…but spokes! now spokes are a thing to be treasured. in fact, it is the shiny metal pieces of sexiness that define my bicycle, damnit! seriously, people, where would i be without spokes. that’s right. nowhere. i would be done for. incapacitated. unable to traverse one of the world’s largest college campuses. before, i had been but an ignorant fool, disregarding the value of spokes, but thanks to the remarks of this slavic prodigy, there was a chance i was going to be able to make it in the world. i slowly and pensively pedaled on into the vast, foreboding universe, stopping only once to soar off of the biggest, baddest bike jump i could find…