I feel small.

So this is college huh? Feeling underwhelmed.

"The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese."
-Gilbert Keith Chesterton

ducks are funny. Yes. yes they are.

-CR

Concerning recovered poems

Live with intention.
walk to the edge.
listen hard.
practice wellness.
continue to learn.
laugh: play with abandon.
choose with no regret.
appreciate your friends.
do what you love.
Live as if this is all there is.

well put.

-CR

Feeling expendable.

Marticulation. Lit candles. Dropped them into a river and watched them float away. Struck me that each flame contained in it that person's hopes, dreams fate and future. Almost frightening to see that many souls march by. Noticed the wind blow some flames almost to extinction, only to have the flame roar back to life again. Felt like a metaphor. I will take a beating here. Some candles, and some people, won't survive it. Noticed the candles group together while others made the journey on their own. Something about the sun setting, a bagpiper playing, coupled with the sight of nearly five hundred souls embarking on a journey... it sticks in my head and joins the slim ranks of moments that I'll never forget. Along with a Maple Tree and Milo, Throwing Glass into the Bay, Standing in the Rain with the girl I love, and Noses. I can never let myself forget these things.



-CR

I feel alone. I feel forgotten. Where are all... oh fuck it all. Sometimes I fucking hate you people.

Burn.

"By the way I tried to say I'd be there..."

Concerning Busyititude

Work has reached a new level of busy that make all previous levels of "busy" seem more like, "leisurely scratching my butt while watching the Discovery Channel at 0145 on a Saturday morning." Yeah.

-CR

Interesting day indeed. Profs that insist that you call them by first name. Aggressive girls, which is frightening. Dancing guides. marshmallow races... and a brand spanking new flat screen monitor 'cause my old one was too big. And cake. Let us not forget cake.

What is this mystery cake? I want none of it.

-CR

The last supper. Somehow I'm reminded of an eve 6 song. Here's to the night, the idea being that everyone gets together one last time before they all go there seperate ways. I wish life was like that. I feel so alone. Like here I go into the great (mediocre?) beyond, and who is there to brace me for it? I don't know. I just don't anymore. So alone.

"Until we meet again, may the rain fall gently on your fields and may god hold you in the palm of his hand."

-CR

I hate democrats.

I want to see two elephants do the polka. That would be amusing. A bear riding a motorcycle would be good too. I wonder if anyone got that joke.

I would say that life goes on. But I'm not sure that it does.

-CR

She is gone. And I am broken.

""I wept, but only a little. It didn’t seem that weeping was going to do any good." He sighs. "It doesn’t change anything. It just makes me feel a bit more alive. I don’t know whether that’s good. While you’re alive, you’re hurting."
"It’s the possibility that when you’re dead you might still go on hurting that bothers me," she says grimly."
- The Bone People

-CR

Apparently Not.

"When I cut down my angel I only started my fall."

-CR

Is there a limit to the amount of pain that can be clutched in a single drop of saltwater?

Everything hurts. I can already feel it. Betrayal sucks.

I am frightened. More and more now I see that all things have a time limit on them and I do not know what to do. Especially when said time limit is less than a fortnight. I've been brutalized so many times in the past, what if it happens again? How will I be able to pick up the pieces of what will be left of me and shamble on? It's happened so often you'd think that I would have it down to a science now, disconnect, disinvolve and forget. Though I do not know that I will ever be able to forget. I don't know that I would be able to survive. But that's just poppycock, of course I would survive. Wouldn't I? Simply carry on? Let life bloody my face with its boot while I kneel and beg for another. Couldn't I? Maybe not. But like it or not it will come for me. On a long enough time line, everyones survival rate drops to zero. So what if I'm early?

How do you prepare for death?
Learn how to live.

How do you learn how to live?
Prepare for death.

-CR

Because.

Much anger. Computer sucks. I want to do something to release anger, energy. I have to move I have to do SOMETHING. Can't no transport. No. No anything. So frusterated that it feels as though hot poison is running though my veins and they bulge from my arms and hands. Urge to format. Rising.

"No more games, I'ma change what you call rage tear this motherfuckin roof off like two dogs cage I was playin' in the beginning but the mood all changed..."

-CR

Why?

Tried to call significant other. No avail. She refused to answer phone. Oh well. One down. Mind filled with many thoughts, worried, apprehensions. Wondering about screw-ups, I'm just flat out tired now. I want to sleep and never wake up. Just shh...

Not much left. Signed up for Willamette email today. Stood in the rain, not once. Twice. Two totally different occasions, one very much so better than the other. Such a release of energy. Pent up fear, worry, paranoia, insecuritys all vanish in an instant, exploding in reds and whites. Let us put that in the things to never forget box. At least I hope I never forget. It rained today by the way. rain is refreshing. We take showers to wash away the dirt, but not to start over. Drenching yourself in the rain. Simply standing there letting the winds blow and the water come leads to a different kind of clean. Almost a spiritual clean. Like communion, yet different. I digress. The Girl Who Talks With Her Eyes and I had dialogue. Fear. We cannot have fear. I know it is understandable. I know that what I say now can change. No matter my efforts to perserve the status quo. I feel that I should be the one worrying. Not she. So I do, and I would anyway. She seems to feel that I have nothing to fear. And I seem to feel that she is the one that should be fearless. A conundrum to say the least. We will make it. How can we not?

"Dreams surely are difficult, confusing, and not everything in them is brought to pass for mankind. For fleeting dreams have two gates: one is fashioned of horn and one of ivory. Those which pass through the one of sawn ivory are deceptive, bringing tidings which come to nought, but those which issue from the one of polished horn bring true results when a mortal sees them."

-CR