Time management is for superheroes.

<-- 1. I made a comic. 

       2. I am working on a short story.

       3. I am looking for a job.

       4. I should be doing number 3 more, but really, spend equal time on all of them.

        5. I play video games about ten times as much as 1, 2, or 3.

6. Sophie made a new (actual and in color) comic! You should check it out.

Sadness Soup.

DEATH?

I want badly to be well
maybe I rationalize my sadness by calling it a disease, thinking anyone could catch it, I'm just unlucky. Therefore, I wonder why me, and although I can't have sadness surgically removed from my body...sadness is not a thing. If it was, I could sell it.

I thought about death today. I don't think Jonna would have wanted to know I thought about it. I think I must be surrounded by it, and yet I don't feel it seeping into me, making me sad, making me wish I was more like what surrounds me, what enjoys itself, which is death and all its themes.

I don't wonder when I write, really. It's just an exploration of things to say. That's why when I read something I've written, I can't remember writing it, and I refuse to believe it was me that penned it. I think forgetfulness is my strong suit.

If the economy is depressed, why can't I be?

...

Lately I've been thinking a lot about what I want to do with my life. It seems like what I want to do doesn't exist.

Medium new.

FAT TO FRUIT

 

Eating grease meat

On soaked Styrofoam

Shit in my pants

And bleach in my dreams.

 

I’m sitting at the bottom of myself here

In a little dirty chair

But when the last bell rings

Terrible through the air…

 

I will stand up!

I will shave all my hair off!

I will be aerodynamic and air conditioned.

I will cut into the new dance I do not know. 

Let's get juxtaposed.

Three things!

1. My 95-year-old school is being phased out. I learned about it on Wednesday. My principal is losing her job, unfortunately. I can't decide if it's time to get out before next year, or not. I owe them something. You know? I'm having arguments with myself, results on the evening news.

2. New poem. Comments?



MIRROR MAKERS ARE ARTISTS TOO

I hear all these stories
about Vladimir and Bunny
forced to marry in Siberia
by economics and

either
he’s a stock broker who has a golf tattoo
and she’s freegan and a fisherwoman

or
he's a pedophile who cares only for the sax
and she’s his deaf grandmother

or
he's the reincarnation of David Bowie
and she is God.

somehow, they always end up falling in love,
or freezing to death.


3. A poem I've read on the internet, which I can't stop reading. It's addictive. What's really strange, however, is that the author is out of print--I can't find his books anywhere. Help? Any thoughts on the poem?

I'm listening to Neko Cases, "Deep Red Bells." Also, the Super Furry Animals, "Juxtaposed with U."

Fast times at Winthrop Middle School

So, it's been a while since I last posted. Not much has happened, actually. I've played a few videogames and I've typed up a few new lessons. Unfortunately not a whole lot has become any clearer to me about teaching, life in general, videogames, or the relationships between any of these things. These are the places I'm looking for answers to my questions. Currently, my questions consist of:

Time spent getting physically fit > Time spent doing other things?

Money spent on objects which bring joy > Money, or potential for these objects?

Experience of videogames > experience of movies, books, comic books, etc? Note: The answer to this is most likely no, that videogames are less engaging than all of these things, which is distressing to me. I have been searching the videogame universe for some meaningful art.

Staying up late and bending the fabric of my universe > getting enough sleep to get to work on time?

My responsibility for my students to learn > my students' responsibility to learn?

Other questions are harder to phrase. I am letting my ability to get sad overwhelm me lately, because I like that feeling. It's empowering to be miserable, because you can call something your sadness and push it into one part of your life while you call the rest of yourself a genius. It's egotistical.

I am also wondering whether teaching in my school is really benefitting me by hardening me, or whether I should be at another school learning to perfect my style and become a stronger educator, whatever that means.

Fortunately, I'm not dead, have been drawing pay, and have been doing well enough in my graduate classes to stay in the Fellows program. I'm also not obese yet, despite hundreds of thousands of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on multigrain bread.

Power clap!

WILD PASS

hey, remember
the low stone walls
at home?

orange stripes
fueling flowers
the engine

at the bottom of the garden
sticky candy in the gym
hardwood spooning.

a memory with
missing walls
remote-control wrecking balls

the view from the couch
cat calls from the couch
I know this arrangement
of furniture.

but

someone special passes.
a random event.
ma’am, could you please

pass the cement?

Brooklyn yardwork.

One of my greatest new joys is biking at night to Brooklyn, back from Manhattan. I go across the Manhattan bridge, down through the slope, and then gliding all the way through Prospect Park on my bike.

It's been a bit of a rough weekend, but I'm here and I've got a good lesson for tomorrow. The chillins will be impressed.