Every morning, Maelstrom takes a shower.
Let me rephrase that, Maelstrom wants to take a shower.
Yet, roaches are always in the bathtub,
scaring Maelstrom away.
What is up with that?
Therefore, before getting into the tub,
Maelstrom turns the water as hot as it will go.
Watching the scolding liquid dip down the drain.
Then a dead bird would suddenly hit his window.
Yes, this did happen everyday.
Not keen of grim mysteries, Maelstrom refused to take this as a sign.
Returning the water to regular bathing temperature,
Maelstrom would get into the shower.
Just as he was looking forward to cleansing himself of worldly filth,
a single roach would appear on the floor of the white tub.
This occurrence forced Maelstrom to sleep. He was finished.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
In a Fountain and Under a Tree
Over the past few weeks, two ducks have taken up residents in various fountains around a certain west coast private university. However, these ducks, a male and a female, have transgressed from a cute oddity one observes on the way to class into a campus wide sensation, frequently sited as many people's favorite couple on campus. Here is an excerpt from one of their conversations.
Male Duck: The water is kinda cold in the fountain today. Want to go sit under that tree?
Female Duck: Nah, not really feeling the grass today. Can we stay here for a little while longer?
Male Duck: Of course. Shit, humans are approaching.
(humans approach)
Male Duck: Quack!
Female Duck: Quack! Quack!
(humans stop and observe the ducks)
Human 1: They're so cute.
Human 2: Look at how they just float together. Adorable.
Human 1: Favorite couple on campus by far.
(humans keep on walking)
Male Duck: I'm happy they're gone, I fucking hate quacking.
Female Duck: Ditto.
Male Duck: Why do you think they watch us, gawk at our every movement?
Female Duck: Because the world doesn't own us.
Male Duck: What do you mean? We are confined to select spots around a single college campus. These students have the entire world, they can travel, read, write down ideas and argue them for simple posterity. If the world owns anyone, it must be us.
Female Duck: The world may physically restrain us, but it has no jurisdiction over cases of the heart. The students have unparalleled access to the world, but they are forced to wait to love. All of them, thinking they are so young and have all the time in the world to love someone. Yet, these students know that this is not the case, cancer, AIDS, out of control motor vehicles, all lie just around the corner. The unlucky ones may even meet their end via all three.
Male Duck: Yet, we are not outside of the realm of loss and tragedy.
Female Duck: You don't have to tell me twice.
Male Duck: What does that mean? I'm not going anywhere, don't worry.
Female Duck: Stop with the magnificent lies, they will only make me weep. At night, when we are floating side by side, I snuggle up to you and utter a simple wish: that this feeling will last. Yet we all know that everything that sun shines on is fleeting. Time will pass and you will disappear.
Male Duck: How can you say that? Our love is pure, we have each other, and even if my feathered body fails me, you will always have the memories.
Female Duck: Memories can only tide one over for so long. How long does it take to forget someones voice, their face? Five years, six? For before I met you I was alone, and now I am the prettiest of weeds.
Male Duck: You must not think like that; try, fight to stay aware of the world around you, what is real, what is essential, what is us. At night, between the hours of twelve and four, when the night takes on that special kind of silence, the students stare at their generic white washed ceilings and wish for what occurs in this simple pond. They want to be emotionally awake, to survive the unimaginably pain of the day, and come home having their hearts feel eternally full, the lifeblood of another running through their veins. For you are no better then the young individuals that stare at this fountain everyday; wanting to love, but fearing the pain that it may cause you. Yes, one day you will awake and I will be gone, and it will undoubtedly hurt; but because we had this connection, both of us will be better for it. The students do not chose to stop and look at this pond, it is that they cannot look away. There is power in what we have.
Female Duck: You sure are preachy, aren't you?
Male Duck: You think this is bad? You should have seen me in grad school.
The following week I spied four male ducks sitting in a different fountain, no female in sight. All male orgy or simple guy's weekend? I'm not one to decide.
Male Duck: The water is kinda cold in the fountain today. Want to go sit under that tree?
Female Duck: Nah, not really feeling the grass today. Can we stay here for a little while longer?
Male Duck: Of course. Shit, humans are approaching.
(humans approach)
Male Duck: Quack!
Female Duck: Quack! Quack!
(humans stop and observe the ducks)
Human 1: They're so cute.
Human 2: Look at how they just float together. Adorable.
Human 1: Favorite couple on campus by far.
(humans keep on walking)
Male Duck: I'm happy they're gone, I fucking hate quacking.
Female Duck: Ditto.
Male Duck: Why do you think they watch us, gawk at our every movement?
Female Duck: Because the world doesn't own us.
Male Duck: What do you mean? We are confined to select spots around a single college campus. These students have the entire world, they can travel, read, write down ideas and argue them for simple posterity. If the world owns anyone, it must be us.
Female Duck: The world may physically restrain us, but it has no jurisdiction over cases of the heart. The students have unparalleled access to the world, but they are forced to wait to love. All of them, thinking they are so young and have all the time in the world to love someone. Yet, these students know that this is not the case, cancer, AIDS, out of control motor vehicles, all lie just around the corner. The unlucky ones may even meet their end via all three.
Male Duck: Yet, we are not outside of the realm of loss and tragedy.
Female Duck: You don't have to tell me twice.
Male Duck: What does that mean? I'm not going anywhere, don't worry.
Female Duck: Stop with the magnificent lies, they will only make me weep. At night, when we are floating side by side, I snuggle up to you and utter a simple wish: that this feeling will last. Yet we all know that everything that sun shines on is fleeting. Time will pass and you will disappear.
Male Duck: How can you say that? Our love is pure, we have each other, and even if my feathered body fails me, you will always have the memories.
Female Duck: Memories can only tide one over for so long. How long does it take to forget someones voice, their face? Five years, six? For before I met you I was alone, and now I am the prettiest of weeds.
Male Duck: You must not think like that; try, fight to stay aware of the world around you, what is real, what is essential, what is us. At night, between the hours of twelve and four, when the night takes on that special kind of silence, the students stare at their generic white washed ceilings and wish for what occurs in this simple pond. They want to be emotionally awake, to survive the unimaginably pain of the day, and come home having their hearts feel eternally full, the lifeblood of another running through their veins. For you are no better then the young individuals that stare at this fountain everyday; wanting to love, but fearing the pain that it may cause you. Yes, one day you will awake and I will be gone, and it will undoubtedly hurt; but because we had this connection, both of us will be better for it. The students do not chose to stop and look at this pond, it is that they cannot look away. There is power in what we have.
Female Duck: You sure are preachy, aren't you?
Male Duck: You think this is bad? You should have seen me in grad school.
The following week I spied four male ducks sitting in a different fountain, no female in sight. All male orgy or simple guy's weekend? I'm not one to decide.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
So True
Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have. We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.
— Ira Glass (via nefffy)
The lack of original updates is due to finals seasons; not the result of any crazy conspiracy theories, sorry.
— Ira Glass (via nefffy)
The lack of original updates is due to finals seasons; not the result of any crazy conspiracy theories, sorry.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
New Photo Album
The Lone Thing
View the whole album here: https://picasaweb.google.com/cjonny21/TheLoneThing#
View the whole album here: https://picasaweb.google.com/cjonny21/TheLoneThing#
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
A Bunnies Easter
Every time Easter roles around Floppy gets sad. He can't help it. While all the other bunnies run around, preparing their obnoxiously seasonal eggs; Floppy sits inside his burrow, gazing towards the outside world, thinking about her.
Floppy had two things at the start of his life - plans and time; and starting out, he was pretty successful. One day, sitting in his one bedroom cage, Floppy was reading the paper. Spying an add for a suitable husband, Floppy responded down the cosmic bunny tunnels. Two weeks, an expensive whisker trim, and a confidence lesson from the Dog Whisperer later, Floppy met his potential wife. Located in the safety of his travel cage, Floppy wooed the women rabbit with his charm and charisma, effortlessly capturing the lady's heart. That very day, Floppy moved into her large pen, located on a beautiful 50 foot estate.
Only downside: the wife could be kind of a bitch, taking jabs at his face whenever he stepped out of line. She also didn't take kindly to his quick glances towards other woodland critters.
Floppy didn't love her, but it was a small price to pay for a life of comfort and ease. His wild friends would marvel at his luck, but Floppy would laugh it off, stating how he couldn't wait to reclaim his bachelorhood. He was certain he would miss his wife, but he had time to say goodbye, to thank her for a few good years of free food and occasional neutered sex.
But then suddenly, on one spring morning, as the wind whistled through the grass and the leaves gracefully fell from the trees, time was up. His wife was dead, and not wanting to let her body be claimed by predators, Floppy stood guard until the humans discovered the corpse. He swore he didn't love her. He swore.
She was taken without his permission, before he decided that the time was right, and before any of his plans could be completed. Floppy felt anger, shock, peace. Floppy felt alone.
She was his constant, his muse, and after four good years she was gone. The large pen, once seeming too confining for their adventures, now just felt empty and vast. For days Floppy didn't move, there wasn't a point.
Yet, as Floppy saw the humans mourning the death of his wife, he realized that he wasn't alone. Not only were these people going through the exact same thing, but they could offer the unanswerable question “is there anything I can do?” That’s where some scrap of comfort and the joy came from – even though it felt like he was alone, he wasn’t.
So Floppy, deciding not to remarry, instead remaining on the estate. Everyday standing by the fence and gazing towards his wife's grave, feeling a little less alone inside. For Floppy realized that his youthful ambition was based out of fear - the fear of inevitably losing the thing he loved. Yet, as Easter morning dawned, Floppy realized that even fleeting love was worth this pain.
Floppy had two things at the start of his life - plans and time; and starting out, he was pretty successful. One day, sitting in his one bedroom cage, Floppy was reading the paper. Spying an add for a suitable husband, Floppy responded down the cosmic bunny tunnels. Two weeks, an expensive whisker trim, and a confidence lesson from the Dog Whisperer later, Floppy met his potential wife. Located in the safety of his travel cage, Floppy wooed the women rabbit with his charm and charisma, effortlessly capturing the lady's heart. That very day, Floppy moved into her large pen, located on a beautiful 50 foot estate.
Only downside: the wife could be kind of a bitch, taking jabs at his face whenever he stepped out of line. She also didn't take kindly to his quick glances towards other woodland critters.
Floppy didn't love her, but it was a small price to pay for a life of comfort and ease. His wild friends would marvel at his luck, but Floppy would laugh it off, stating how he couldn't wait to reclaim his bachelorhood. He was certain he would miss his wife, but he had time to say goodbye, to thank her for a few good years of free food and occasional neutered sex.
But then suddenly, on one spring morning, as the wind whistled through the grass and the leaves gracefully fell from the trees, time was up. His wife was dead, and not wanting to let her body be claimed by predators, Floppy stood guard until the humans discovered the corpse. He swore he didn't love her. He swore.
She was taken without his permission, before he decided that the time was right, and before any of his plans could be completed. Floppy felt anger, shock, peace. Floppy felt alone.
She was his constant, his muse, and after four good years she was gone. The large pen, once seeming too confining for their adventures, now just felt empty and vast. For days Floppy didn't move, there wasn't a point.
Yet, as Floppy saw the humans mourning the death of his wife, he realized that he wasn't alone. Not only were these people going through the exact same thing, but they could offer the unanswerable question “is there anything I can do?” That’s where some scrap of comfort and the joy came from – even though it felt like he was alone, he wasn’t.
So Floppy, deciding not to remarry, instead remaining on the estate. Everyday standing by the fence and gazing towards his wife's grave, feeling a little less alone inside. For Floppy realized that his youthful ambition was based out of fear - the fear of inevitably losing the thing he loved. Yet, as Easter morning dawned, Floppy realized that even fleeting love was worth this pain.
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