Please vote today. This decision isn't about policy, to make a decision on insignificant differences is ignoring what it means to be a leader ignoring the stature of the position. Rather, it is about the ability to inspire hope, create change, unite people and bring the world into a better future. It is time to move on and move up. We need a new face that reflects the people of this nation. I believe there is only one candidate who is in the position to do this.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful and committed citizens can change the world. 'It's the only thing that ever has.'“

 

When you are lonely sometimes you have to pretend that someone loves you because of course they do. It is like when a small child looks at you and protests that they love you and all you can say is “I love you too” and while it may make you uncomfortable you can't honestly not love them back. You can't possibly look in the mirror and not love the amazing being staring back no matter how different you wish you were. It is like my little bitch of a cat who is so needed and wants to go out and in all day long and will sometimes randomly bite you for no reason but she is mine and I love her so much not only despite all the things I wish I could change about her but because of them. I am alone much of the time and I have conversations with all different people I know or some I don't really know. If I have met you at all we might be really good friends in my mind we might have a deep relationship that you don't even know about. When you are alone and desire affection from someone else intimacy, a hug the embrace one would give to a member of their family you can give that to yourself and it can be more beautiful than the rapture of lovers or the cress of the wind against an ancient tree. It is hard to know that it is hard to be there when there is the same doubt or hesitation due in any connection. This crazy world where we can love and understand each other the miraculous ability we have to know god personally.

Happy New year.

I guess it stared out wrong, I was going to wake up at 700 and go sit for an hour at BCIl then get some new oil for may car and ar in my tirs and drop something off at a potential job but I couldn'r get up, I didn't want to leave my bed. At 1100i finally did but it felt wrong. I felt like crap. I did who knows what untill I had to g babysit and the kids were not in the best of moods. I left and did who knows what for teo hours then I went ot kung fu, it is chinese new years eve and I haven;t gone to my kung fu school in for class in more or less two years. I've been to performances but no class for various reasons even though it is very important to me. i had planned to go to the Buddhist temple in denver tonight as I lways do but who decided to show up for his first day back today too? none other than hassan monsouri who was my best friend until he decided hw couldn;t be firnds with me. he was a large part f why i quit and has also been gone about two years. Shifu said it was kosmic, i thought it was a sign I made the wrong decision. I didn't speak to him but decied against going to the temple since he was going. I felt hurt all over again and went home. I am supposed to go skiiing tomorrow but it might be a blizzard and I am soar and tired. I went trillogy just to do something for new years and got drunk whishing I was in denver unable to get into the back for a couple hours because I didn;t have five bucks. spent 18 dollars on alcohal in the mean time and speant new years alon again. Oh did I even have to mention Seth ditched me on the movie we were going to see, he got out of hatever too late. I hope i can get up in a few hours, I feel sick.  a new day, a new year.  hassan is the year of the rat, maybe I should concede it to him, just like Hillary should concede the dem nomination to Obama.

Oh, I did get into the back at trillogy eventually though, they let me in for free thanks to the nice atheist. Mr Garfield was painting and people were dancing, I was drunk and there was nothing chinese about it .

Gung Xi Fa Chai!

Tonight has been lovely, been huge, been verbose. I cleaned my couch that I plan to sell (with amonia) then was overcome by words, words I was saying, words I was speaking, and those I was thinking. I had to start walking just to stop the words from becoming constipated, trapped until my head exploded. I started walking towards people, towards the moon, just down the street, poeticizing in my mind philosophizing down the street, the forward movement allows for order, for thought to continue effortlessly. I got some water, which I decided needed to be dressed in glass so I got a Perrier, which is also fizzy, a rare treat because while I distinctly don't like fizzy water it is such a rarity considering my distaste it can be a treat in a new way, like an accessory, a beautiful variation or addition to every day life. It reminded me of going to Stu's house late one night with Genpo Roshi and Stu handing me an offering of fizzy water in a pink Nalgene bottle. What a fantastic gift. This is a gift. Every fantastic sight everything created by us, this life, it is such a gift. I was so grateful for walking for drinking for thinking for words and meaning symbols like those fantastic google chat hearts (which I considered for a good fifteen minuets strolling down the darkened street). I never liked the heart shape, bright red gaudy or bulbous ones, hot pink bubble gum colored ones. In school I never liked drawing them because mine were always thin and curvy. Google chat hearts are the perfect symbol for what I mean by a heart soft grey edge the charming animation, the soft pink that fills it in. I thought about words like comport, a great word, or hyperbolize which I decided I must do far less often. Hyperbole is like cancer on language these days. Cancer I decided is something we all get unless we die of something else first. People sometimes say you can never be cured of cancer, you simply go into remission until it "comes back" or you die of something else first, but it is that way for us all cancer is inevitable, love causes cancer. I heard on the news obesity it seems increases your risk of cancer as does most everything that is bad for you. I really don't want to hear anymore discussion on what causes cancer, life causes cancer the body inevitably degenerates and we die. We will all die which puts sort of an immediacy on things. Death will come how must we prepare? I walk around everyday constantly confused by a question, A question that if I even knew what it was might have an answer but alas I am just confused. And answering the question I know will be so joyous will make things easier and harder but it must be done now, for every moment I suffer, I get close to giving up, to wasting my life unable to move on, but abandoning it all to cope to learn to cope is to deny the mystery. I am stuck here, I need to do things I need to know what to do how shall I live? I can't even answer these basic questions as though the obvious, the answers that people exude all around me are what is inhibiting even asking. They lay ground for the confusion and doubt. I would almost prefer a retreat to a place where people are forced to start over where a lineage of thought and evolution is abandoned in order to forage anew. This place is existing now in my head. I wish I had someone I could just talk to who would understand the abstract simple notions I verbalize which make no sense. I hate it when someone is talking to me and I have no clue as to what they are getting at yet here I am doing just that. I went to Laughing goat as I have done twice this week for some reason. It is like I so completely disassociated and despised the place that it is now as if for me it exists far away from boulder, another city or time or realm to me where I can be anonymous once again. I of course saw Michael there but I guess he is the type who can travel to other realms as well ( : Gosh, I have a meeting with this therapist type person tomorrow whom my mom decided I should see since Sally and john and Cord have recommended her, but now I am thinking I should just tell her that I am utterly mad crazy to the extreme and yet quite averagely human as well. Anyway Laughing goat was populated perfectly I could watch people and think, though I had planned on reading Reza Aslan's book (he is one of my heroes now, brilliant man and sooo totally cute to be honest) I however could not focus I was writing poetry all the way there and really wanted to write rather that absorb someone else's thoughts. All I could do was stare at the words picking out ones I liked I also had transmetro but even the pictures weren't enough to keep my mind contained. I had no pen or paper so I asked for a pen, tried to write on an elephant magazine but the material was wrong and the words came too fast and my hand was shaking, luckily I had asked for decaf. I ended up drawing on the back of my check book and then my hand, a past time that got me through thousands of classes throughout my adolescence, starting when I was in 5^th grade. I will probably get cancer from it someday, but you already knew that.

The thing about writing in your head, a stream of thought that is so pure and meandering is that it can never be written down. Writing demands a judgement, further thought and consideration editing which undermines the sentiment undermines the confusion that is inherent in thought the irrationality embedded in our imperfect reasoning.. I'm not going to edit this, to read it over would put me through displeasentries and it won't ever get said. Don't make faces.

Good poetry is like a song that sings to your heart and you have to love it, even if it reflects nothing you see inside yourself; you just know. Bad poetry is incredibly obvious because it hurts; walking against the grain of existence. It has meaning for only one, a lie that whispers to their heart alone. Perhaps it is not always a lie sometimes bad poetry can be perfectly true, true for them True in the truest sense but the lie comes in formatting why was this even written as a poem I often ask? If I have to ask there it goes and I have forgotten. Really it must be said though that poetry takes bravery takes trust in a reader in ones self for poetry can only be written as such it as all things comes in the service of truth and beauty. Anyway, I'm going to write more poetry, maybe I'll post it later bad or good. I don't want to be a poet for some reason but I just can't help it.

In case you were wondering this thought was inspired by some bad poetry I have been exposed to in the last few months and Marco's poetry which I finally read, and I think is very beautiful. (And can be found on his website http://zoosphere.com/archives/31)

There is a wall around my heart, it is made out of Borax and water and a little bit of green food coloring. Yep that stuff you made when you were the kid. That mysterious goo that feels hard when you poke it but then envelops you when you aren't even paying attention. It was in the fourth grade, the science room at the back of the school, hugged up against the foothills, Mrs. Weller casting shadows over us and Dr Seuss prose swimming in our heads. I made that shit and build a wall when no one was looking.

In regards to my blog last week, Oh on second thought, maybe you can cure cancer...
Derf.

No where to sit.
Derf.

Wow, I had heard of wiki racing before but never knew anyone who did it... maybe it is just a high school thing but man, serious fun. (if you don't know, it is where you pick a wiki page like Iceland and then pick something else like water bottles to which you have to get only by clicking the blue links in wiki pages)

Wow I saw someone today I knew when I was a junior ranger, back when I had that big run in with the law, which is interesting because she mentioned how some of her friends our age still shop lift. That kind of scares me, when fifteen year olds talk about it I let it go because I understand the narcissism and the lack of control in your life, the pain and suffering that lets your maturing brain decide you deserve it, but 20 year old white girls who can afford to shop at Urban, that is scary. Anyway, this girl is starting to be someone whom I respect which is weird, she was in the camp of nice people whom you really can't connect with. Maybe I am superficial and the hinting at her being a lesbian peaked my interest more than anything. She remembered my old house and how sad I was when my parents sold it. I need more friends like her. Then again what I really want is friends who need me someone who will call me their filthy assistant and do stupid things in public. I am really racist, I sold my couch to people based on their name which was Middle Eastern. At first I regretted it because the guy sounded really creepy but yeah, total adorable Arab boys, and I was so incredibly pleased with myself.

I find myself trying to find things to say to people and it always ends up being something stupid like hey I can do a one handed cartwheel want to see? Or something meanish, like hey you know that shirt looks like an ugly vagina. Or something true, which is what I always want to say but it doesn't seem appropriate until I tell them about my hamster I killed in the third grade. These sentiments also come across as rude. What is an ugly vagina anyway? There is little social commentary on the subject. I have seen many vaginas but no indication as to their beauty Do women,lesbians, men, ect have different ideas on the subject? Is their litterateur about it somewhere? Have I really seen the appropriate varieties that are out there, I think there may be some bias in my sampling.. I wonder if my vagina is really ugly? I hope not.

I'm mad at someone who you can't get mad at. That is irritating.

These are just some thoughts from the day, I just had a day dream that my neighbor stoned my cat to death. Sometimes I just want to hear about the details of other people's minds and lives.