Saturday, December 31, 2011
Look Back, Move Forward
Because some days and nights felt longer than the past year. Cheers to life, my friend, to life.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
The New Year
I will dive to the bottom of the hotel pool and find my mother’s hairpin.
With the mouth of a drowning woman on my lap,
I will add her breath to mine. In the dark, I will lay the thin white sheet
of the moonlight over the blue plums of my wife’s breasts.
With the new planet I discovered just when I thought I was losing my sight,
I will love another man because I will be a woman.
Everything important will never as yet have happened. Let it happen.
I will throw a lit match on the secrets my body
has kept from me and stand in the fire. The people I have sawed in half
will appear in my bedroom mirror, getting dressed.
--Jason Shinder
With the mouth of a drowning woman on my lap,
I will add her breath to mine. In the dark, I will lay the thin white sheet
of the moonlight over the blue plums of my wife’s breasts.
With the new planet I discovered just when I thought I was losing my sight,
I will love another man because I will be a woman.
Everything important will never as yet have happened. Let it happen.
I will throw a lit match on the secrets my body
has kept from me and stand in the fire. The people I have sawed in half
will appear in my bedroom mirror, getting dressed.
--Jason Shinder
On to various manuals
A Drunkard's Guide to Heartache
“There is no space wider than that of grief,
there is no universe like that which bleeds.”
-Pablo Neruda
I can come to only one conclusion.
One that is pillared by starlight
and teaches me how to dance.
I can only dream of spaces that
dignify my sorrow with a view
of dawn, and sound out my loneliness
among all of yours. Let us leave
the world for a while. Turn our
minds to the span of mystery.
We are all children of feeling.
So hurt. Because what we require
is the opposite of space. A wall.
A tide of self. Whatever it is
you fill, know that you still hold.
Remember your family and breed.
Don’t waste your purpose.
And if you don’t have a purpose,
sit down and drink until
you reacquaint yourself with need.
That delicate ache, that beautiful
cliché. I want to hear you feel.
I want to dream with you and search
for our ghosts. I want desire
to keep me away from my desires.
So that I may suffer space. So that
my hands may know the reaching.
So that tomorrow I may still be
too alive to believe in emptiness.
Let me keep my days filled with
quarrel and deceit. This is what
I know, this gravity, this life, that
pulls all light and turns it into beating,
A rhythm, a form of art, my being.
--Rafael San Diego
“There is no space wider than that of grief,
there is no universe like that which bleeds.”
-Pablo Neruda
I can come to only one conclusion.
One that is pillared by starlight
and teaches me how to dance.
I can only dream of spaces that
dignify my sorrow with a view
of dawn, and sound out my loneliness
among all of yours. Let us leave
the world for a while. Turn our
minds to the span of mystery.
We are all children of feeling.
So hurt. Because what we require
is the opposite of space. A wall.
A tide of self. Whatever it is
you fill, know that you still hold.
Remember your family and breed.
Don’t waste your purpose.
And if you don’t have a purpose,
sit down and drink until
you reacquaint yourself with need.
That delicate ache, that beautiful
cliché. I want to hear you feel.
I want to dream with you and search
for our ghosts. I want desire
to keep me away from my desires.
So that I may suffer space. So that
my hands may know the reaching.
So that tomorrow I may still be
too alive to believe in emptiness.
Let me keep my days filled with
quarrel and deceit. This is what
I know, this gravity, this life, that
pulls all light and turns it into beating,
A rhythm, a form of art, my being.
--Rafael San Diego
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Online Test: Personality Disorders
| Disorder | Rating |
| Paranoid Personality Disorder: | High |
| Schizoid Personality Disorder: | Moderate |
| Schizotypal Personality Disorder: | High |
| Antisocial Personality Disorder: | Moderate |
| Borderline Personality Disorder: | Very High |
| Histrionic Personality Disorder: | Moderate |
| Narcissistic Personality Disorder: | Moderate |
| Avoidant Personality Disorder: | Very High |
| Dependent Personality Disorder: | Very High |
| Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder: | Moderate |
-- Take the Personality Disorder Test -- -- Personality Disorder Info -- | |
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Insomnia
Sapped veins colored with penitence,
insides churning mad with frailty.
The thin of blood is thin of blood.
How do you intend to kill
these stagnant nights?
Only you could remember
how it all began: vestiges becoming
a shadow inhabiting, the restless
rising black against black walls.
Eyes drying white. The apparent
lack of signs, vital. Nights will die
engulfed in the body’s ailing.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
To the Displaced
Many dread the difference time draws
in a day trying to hear careless passing
as it treats each moment like the next
just another happening no longer lasting
only a second, a minute, an hour, a life-
time behind your mind suspended inevitably
encrypted: fragments cast into the turning
tides of the sea where uncertain is recovery
grasping severed pieces being stolen away
Oh time what use have you but for us to forget
and so you are forever indifferent to all
the pining and pounding as we dare to salvage
our wants in ifs, for this is
what I mean
when I miss.
in a day trying to hear careless passing
as it treats each moment like the next
just another happening no longer lasting
only a second, a minute, an hour, a life-
time behind your mind suspended inevitably
encrypted: fragments cast into the turning
tides of the sea where uncertain is recovery
grasping severed pieces being stolen away
Oh time what use have you but for us to forget
and so you are forever indifferent to all
the pining and pounding as we dare to salvage
our wants in ifs, for this is
what I mean
when I miss.
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