Saturday, October 29, 2011

Grass Clippings 2006-2008 Part 2

A teacup voice
A voice so small it fits in a teacup
A voice so small it barely peers over the rim of a teacup

Sleep and I have always had an off again on again relationship, but I think we finally broke up.

Most of us think that we are going to live forever. Not forever as in an infinite amount of time, but our forever. As though, after we do everything that needs to be done, we will die. But until then, we’ve got time.

I’ll be waiting for you over the Rainbow.
Sucking on lemon drops
And flying with blue birds.

Something as soft as a kiss can break a heart.

Time, what’s your hurry?
Why fly so fast?
Slow down.
Take my hand.
It’s a beautiful world.

I want to affect people how I am affected. I want to make them dream, think, grow, laugh, cry, remember, smile, and fly. I want to take them away and bring them back changed. I want to act, write, direct, and teach theatre. I want to roll in it laughing like a kid in fall leaves.

The ocean is a seductress.
The ocean makes me feel invincible.

If I can’t have you, I can
Live in your laugh
Live in the freckles on your nose
Live in your hug
Live in the arch of your brows
Live in your eyes
Live in the lick of your lips
Live in your voice
Live in your hands
Live in your lashes
Living in you
You living in me, in my mind, in the tingles on my skin.

Do all books want to be read? Are some coy? Do they blush scarlet when opened wide, baring their innermost to a stranger’s hungry eyes? Do they giggle as a finger wanders their spine? Do they get grouchy and annoyed when opened late into the night? Does their vanity get insulted when pens scratch their pages and corners crease for a reader’s remembrance? Do they gag ink when tumbling inside a cramped satchel?
City Lights Bookstore. San Francisco, CA. 2008.    

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

You're Adopted

You’re 42 years old today, so I thought it was time for you to know. Erm, happy birthday. Well, no beating around the bush. You’re adopted. We don’t even know if today is your birthday. But who can be sure of those things anyway? We could all be lied to and not know any different. As long as it’s consistent. Anyway, you’re adopted, and your mother and I discussed it, and we thought it was time for you to know. You are old enough now, being 42, and you should know where you came from. Well, we don’t really know that either. You see, we didn’t go through any of those fancy adoption agencies or scout out a knocked-up teenager or anything. We found you in a dumpster. I’m sorry to tell you that. I know it’s harsh to hear you were abandoned. I am sorry. But we took you in and raised you as our own, as our very own. You were so small and helpless with those big brown eyes and… Anyway, like I said, as our very own. You can’t say that we ever treated you any different just because you didn’t come out of the same uterus as the other kids. Except for chaining you in the basement. We only did that a few times. And making you sleep on the floor. Our biological kids came first in that respect, and we couldn’t afford another bed. But besides that.

What? What are you…? Are you going to call Child Protection Services? What? After all we’ve…Ungrateful. Go ahead! Tear through that phone book. Rip it to shreds. Rip it! You’ll never find it. You know why? You know why? Because you can't read! We never sent you to school like our other kids, our biological kids. What? Still can’t find it? They wouldn’t care anyway. They wouldn’t care. You know why? Because you’re not a child! You’re 42 years old. Get over it.

Speaking of, if you want to stay living under our roof, it’s time you started acting your age. Doing for yourself. Basic things like bathing and making your own dinner. Is that too much to ask? We’ve been doing for you for six years now. Six years! You’re 42; we’re not asking much. But we are asking for you to help out. You’re cleaning up that mess by the way.

Anyway, here’s your present. Your favorite, or at least the only brand we’ve ever bought but you seem to like it. So, um, here’s your Milk Bone. Happy birthday. No. No, it’s fine about the phone book. Aw, I love you, too. Let’s go pee on the neighbor’s mailbox.
[Image Source]

Friday, October 14, 2011

6 More Things America Can Learn from England

1. Night Life
In England, university students hit the clubs Monday through Thursday and then head to the nearest house party Friday and Saturday when the older, professional crowd that works during the week overtakes the clubs. American students, we really have no idea of what we are missing. Frat Row does not count or compare.
[Image Source] 
2. Co-ed Living
Boys and girls live together both in university housing and in off-campus housing. Co-ed living is more realistic and more fun than single-gender living, and despite southern beliefs, it is not uncomfortable nor does it create a hothouse of sexual tension and fury where cream has to be scraped off the walls.
[Image Source] 
3. Less Academic Output
In England, I put forth one-fifth of the work I put forth in America at BSC. Class met only once a week, assigned weekly readings, and required only one presentation and one essay at the end of the semester. Despite this reduced course-load, I learned and retained more from most of those classes than I have from many of my American classes at BSC, because I actually had time to learn and to process the material instead of constantly stressing about churning out relentless, unindicative results in the form of quizzes, tests, and the God-forsaken unending stream of papers.
[Image Source] 
4. Blind-Friendly Notes
In England, what Americans call dollar bills are called notes, and in England, each note is a different size corresponding to its amount: a twenty pound note is bigger than a ten pound note which is bigger than a five pound note and so on. The indicative sizes make the notes blind-friendly, and blind-friendly makes the world a happier place. Yay.
[Image Source]
5. Pubs
Really? Does this one require an explanation? Okay, okay, here it is: food, drink, community.
[Image Source] 
6. Drying Racks
What’s highly unnecessary? Clothes dryers. Why? Evaporation. I did not meet a single English house with a clothes dryer. All clothes were dried on drying racks placed outside during summer or placed over a radiator during winter. Saves electricity; saves money; better for the environment.
My backyard in Birmingham, UK spring 2011