wrking 4 project underwear

Free! Free at last, free at last!
I passed in my graduate project... I am quite amazed at the depravity of my work. It is quite possible the greatest tragedy ever written. Cross your fingers and burn some candles so that the blind may revisit their beauty and smile on me.
I am definitively not a winter person. The cold bitter winds gnaw at my bones, like a giant or a dog, maybe a rodent of some kind. I have been pouring every ounce of energy I could muster for the past 10 weeks to avoid writing my project. The worst part is that the project is quite interesting. A friend from my undergrad ended up in the Peruvian Amazon living in a village populate by the Shipibo. The Shipibo are a magical people who love to get high, really high, and dance with anacondas. Anyway, she loved it and wanted to go back to alleviate poverty. My project was to develop a plan to found a NGO for her to facilitate this alleviation.
It is done and passed in. I hope , oh sweet hope, that it is accepted and I may continue on my way. I am thinking about joining a weekly hold 'em tournament once I find some work...

Home

Spider webs and radio songs
cluttering the social places
Cold winds and icy trees
warming a frozen heart

Empty poems and sophomore love
calling us out to pasture
Cozy rooms and forgotten peace
reminding of false positives

Rotting fruit and roasted lamb
pleasing beyond comprehension
Slow moving water and flattering shades
telling stories unheard for sometime

Broken promises and sweet words
leave orchards waiting to bloom
Yellowed skins and watered eyes
make yearning too delicious

There is knowing and a left over feeling...

When I was younger, I imagined that love was easy.
it was nothing but the flows of passion, and its streams, its ebbs,
Sometimes I dance, and her love is easy,
More often, it is those who see too late,
they move with the delight of another generation,
they drop their skirts with abandon,
they speak of the peace, and love, of another
that strangers can imagine these moments
They pretend that I was there,
that I know,
that I see the beauty... of their shape, of their movements,
I take home that longing in my own,
that left over passion,
I see the nakedness of their passion
they are peaking in stealing from me
I cannot hold it all,
I cannot share,
I am naked in their embrace,
I have nothing but my soul, it is weak
and it hurts, that they see,
you, you know that it is too real,
yet you dance, too hide...
I dance, inside, for you

Getting Older

"Here's to another year of complete disregard for age appropriate developmental milestones."
I like this statement because it is very appropriate. Cata sent it to me for my birthday. Getting older isn't so bad when you ignore its ramifications.
Had a time last night. Some friends and I were suppose to have a slow night, dinner and few drinks with some live jazz. The band played happy birthday.
The next thing I know, I am drinking jack in a night club with a... madame? She was older, very attractive and seedy. She said she worked with models. Then I told her off.
"Hey Jack, didn't we agree not to see each other anymore?"
"Yeah... but it's your fucking birthday!"
Man, I was drunk. I was that kind of drunk that only whiskey can give. Breathing fire and feeling like the man. Fuck ya! I'm not sure if she was crying when I put her in a taxi.
I've been trying to remember what I said to her. She was complaining about China and the future. I told her to look around at all these people making a go of it in Shanghai... something, something, pointing at waiter, swearing... it is a wonder that she didn't just make out with me right then and there. I was on.
Didn't blackout though. That's a victory in and of itself. Jack is off the menu for the significant future as is pissing myself and vomiting.
I am getting wiser in my old age.

I am filled with hate.
I met the love of my life and it has escaped.
She told me that it is wrong.
That China is gone for me. I crossed that line. I pissed on it.
I hated it. I made love to it.
I am that left over bull shit you fucked...
I am hate... I am that red headed guy that will make love to you in the leftovers.
I am wrong. I will push that life that does not exit.
I will be the ghost that cannot be,
I will remember that time you brought pretend stories.
We are the embers, for I will live my life through a memory...
I hate you because you left me for dead.
Your models have no eyes.

Lonely

My last roommate left just hours ago and the feelings of longing are already setting in. I want a warm body to share my thoughts, feelings, and space. I never thought that I would have these needs. I had thought that I had been able to step away from these needs and go it alone. Isn't that what a traveler does? Finds, explores, documents, and leaves?
I have a feeling that I figure the world out every six months or so. I then forget what I learned. I was an acid trip in my more adventurous day and I began to cry. I had, or so I believed, that I had figured out "God" but it had slipped away like an intangible that was not meant for me. The feelings were real, the rest, who knows. What is real anyway?
As I age, I get the feeling that I am getting smarter. I still make many of the mistakes I made as a youth but less often. My ability to reflect is becoming stronger as well. If I could only hold on to those conclusions, I may actually start getting traction.
I had a conversation with Adam a few years ago. We were driving through Mount Pearl and having a conversation about unattached sex. I expressed my general disdain for it while Adam was arguing that it was the bees knees. I couldn't figure out why I disliked it so much but I think I may have this time. The unattached kind is about two steps ahead of masturbation. Sure it's great and it gets you where you want to be, but in the end, it is hollow, a little too empty. It doesn't fill all my needs.
Anyway, my loneliness is getting to me. I need to go home and get something going before I go insane.
Happy New Year...

Two Steps Forward

Feeling a little stumbly today. I have that ache in my neck like I slept in the oddest position. I'll be able to sleep well from now on. German goodbye and French kiss for the asking; do I want it? Of course I don't know if I can have it but I think I could.
Had a meeting today with John. His thermals were peeking out from his thrift shop sweater. Dripping honey between weird little belches, he convinced us that his dream would make us all rich. In between, he let it be known that he was losing his grip on the whole project. The various mandarins of the Shanghai Medical community smelled profits and were not about to let a two-bit transplant surgeon have it all to himself. Yet they still left him to plan it all.
His chosen consultant is a queer fellow with poor taste. Pauper shoes and old coats, he drops platitudes like cheap beers. "Thanks, mate! Don't blow the budget on the $3 worth of drinks!" I might just be a prick but I am definitely a hateful prick. Am I really to follow these fools into a business selling dreams to the desperate? I have mud on my hands and I haven't even been paid.
Why is student in a cheap suit the best dressed man in the room? Who are these people and why am I here? Bitch and moan as the cockroach scurries past. The bathroom shines as they do a little jig. Oh yes, we do need a place to stay. Any ideas of where?