jumping plans

- loosely shaped hits of the summer -

i was never asked,
but i learned to impress the 405.
i sift contentment through the details of our days,
and found me better hooked by your arm through the
shifted lights of 2am street-counting.
we built something together.
morning hours hit me uncomfortably on the floor,
and our unspoken promises bind closer
when you come out to see me strewn about
with the rest of the unfinished furniture;
circumstance may have realized us at first,
but now we are barely our whole lives diving in
for the great we seek by each other.

8.7.14 Leave a comment

parsing feeble me

"evil has a sweet, sweet scent/
wickedness is fresh and new each time."

- from 'Your Only Escape' by Gatsby's American Dream

it took me 80 miles and some sleepless hours to find snow at night in southern california.
the wind broke off its whisper to direct me south,
so i passed by small towns with lights and uncomfortable benches,
even a few dogs gently urging their owners as they can only do
in the barely function-able hours.
the snow i found fell continuously, a horizontally-fixated detritus
hiding some endlessness;
both orientating and abhorrent for my only self.
although i had not found what i was looking for leaving home,
i did find snow, and i threw my weakness at it to cut a piece of the ocean
as my own for just that moment.

26.6.14 Leave a comment

the shove

i do not think loving is understanding,
but simply trying to understand.

"you ask me to stay/
but there's a million reasons to leave."

- "one way trigger" by the strokes

i know i am being convoluted when i say that i would like to be the one to be asked to stay.

(originally written approx. a month prior to published date)





26.5.14 Leave a comment

the time that lifts us up

when i know:

it comes from everything around you.
i see it in the softness of the lines of a paragraph,
the rare times i space the letters just right and the tapering curves
of each 'giving' and 'fleet' give balance to the meaning
so that i can look at the thing and smile for once after pages and pages
of overabundance, not-quite-so-parallel, and shifts.
i hear it in the depths of a voice that sings about what it knows,
not even the singer but the actual voice;
the resplendent cusps of emotion becoming the breath
of what a person is thinking and conveying without trying.
i smell it wetting and drying the limbs of strangers,
not giving us the chance to even out or believe that anything
so delicate, so rare and uncatchable can last more than the moment.
i taste it in the water we will all beg for.

i should seek more often not the days that are long but the days that are large.
large days will sit heavily in your life, giving you plots to grow on and delineate from.
long days have been for me a desperation,
a reach for something far and threadlike in its strength.

settling the beaten down prose a tad-
i finished reading Every Love Story is a Ghost Story again.
i had this great idea about how each one of us could be making
someone's life completely different without realizing it.
if DFW had known that i existed, maybe i could have been the person
that helped him understand what it was to be a "fucking human being".
the scary part is determining whether or not you are up for the challenge,
but i like to think that frequently we step up to the plate without even realizing it,
getting someone to that place just by being ourselves and letting someone,
or some people, bask in the effortless care of their love.
i love that the people that love me care effortlessly.
they have no clue, and i admit i chuckle when i think about it.
soak it all in, and taste that delicious goodness that is me.

Leave a comment

back when

"if i could pretend i don't depend/
i can deny, deny denial.
yet when push comes to shove, and all the above/
i decide to live the lie."

- from "invisible monsters" by mcs

honestly, i should not feel guilty for reaching for happiness.
i suppose i have a hard time leaving others behind.

17.4.14 Leave a comment

"humans act so strange"

- the burden of sentiment -

my bed stand gets louder at night.
i look for caution by the bookshelf,
but jumbles recognize each other through the mess.
this was not a moment i could find dressed up
with the instances of myself that i know,
and by living through the lure of this drink
i submit proof of my past:
the draw of everything i am not.

one interesting aspect of emotional instability which
my dear reads might not be aware of is its propensity to
completely wear one down throughout the day.
i was basically complaining to everyone who would listen today
about how exhausted i was.
granted, it may have something to do with my incredibly poor
sleeping conditions last night (thank you linda),
but it probably had more to do with my fearful realization
that i am just as vulnerable as i have been.
which is not the greatest realization to have
in the office around a bunch of patients.
fortunately, i have been a master of the
"fake until make" school of dysfunction-masquerade
for quite some time now, so everyone thinks i am not a wreck.

14.4.14 Leave a comment

blood curvature

escaping a name is the color change i look for.
one day, my love will know the hardness of her teeth,
and she can whisper quietly, smiling, at my bones.

embrace the heavy-handedness of our dialogue,
either past or present; there is no such thing in love
because we only see each other's futures.
caring, in the hole, pushes me to find what i believe in.
you too.

you know, i was hoping to write something slightly up-beat
after the rather "wahwah"-esque horror show of that last thing,
but i think i ended up beginning with something not so nice.
if it comes off that way, do not fret, because, i mean,
it really is about my continuing quest to understand what love is.

in other actual news from my life,
sean came to visit, and i had a great week.
so i can walk around with my head up for a bit longer,
until i realize it truly is too cold in my room or that
i waste pretty much everything.

oh, i signed up for insurance.
they want proof of my citizenship.
future american wife, please apply here.

i have this bad habit of visiting LA and drinking way too much,
like more than i did even in undergrad/grad school,
like more than i really ought to,
like i make really horrendous decisions that half my friends are like
"that is too funny" and the other half are like
"may god have mercy on all our souls, because you are an actual human being
and you are speaking these words."
oh well, i only get drunk once or twice a month anyway,
so i might as well go all out, or whatever.

i currently have in possession some old home video tapes,
because apparently i am an historic loser and not just a spontaneous one;
if you care to check them out, well, you will have to come to irvine
because they are on these little cassette tapes that are ridiculously efficient
and can hold i believe infinite amounts of data.

Foster the People is better than you might think.

31.3.14 Leave a comment

on the list

"I've been acting like I'm strong, but/
the truth is I've been losing ground-"

- 'Dismantling Summer' by The Wonder Years

First, I went to Starbucks to read.
I read approx. 10 pages of Infinite Jest;
it was the part where Hal describes Himself's suicide.

Second, I stopped by Petsmart to look at baby chameleons.
There was a dog adoption event going on,
and one particular dog in his little black cage was whimpering and shaking.

I left the store and got in my car.

On the drive home, I cried for the second time in a week.

I need some help.

22.3.14 Leave a comment

shovel or kicking the tires

so how am i supposed to kick a nicotine habit when
i go to work and feel like shit and i come home and feel like shit.

okay, it's not all bad. sometimes selena gomez songs come on the radio
and that gets me going pretty good or whatever.

11.3.14 Leave a comment

talking and talking

fine attention to details: this is what bores the shit out of me.
i sat in an oozingly comfortable chair for an eternity during the hours of the day
when i know i am barely functioning and presentable,
attempting to care about all these ideas everyone around me threw out.
basically, subjecting me to a torture-thon in the trappings of an "office meeting".

my god, is this what people think about throughout the day?
really?
i found the anger, more like petulance, growing inside me
as discussions about the "patients' experience" vis a vis employee nitpicking
stretched on for literally minutes. as a "people person", this was fundamentally
reductive to the essential problem of making others happy.
or at least, as happy as they can be right before specialists
sit them down in an off-green chair to extract their disposable income
in hopes that the shittiness of their oral health would become less shitty.
at least, as efficiently as they could.

someone suggested comment cards for patients to fill out,
which would be tallied (and displayed, no less, on a bulletin board,
"which there is plenty of room for in the back" one person gloated);
at the end of the month, the employee with the most amount of feedback
would win an award.
my impatience suggested that there was most definitely enough floss
in the office to hang myself in the bathroom, with the plan being to mask
the gurgling noises from my lungs with the one-off coffee maker at the front office,
which does make coffee in the morning.

by this moment in my life, i have already decided that i am not great at living,
and the proof was that if this rabble was what made people great,
then my amateur hour stretched into years was justifiable.
the small picture never crosses my mind. period.
there are others out there that do it for me, and i am capable of genuflecting to them
in hopes that i can keep them around to sort through these challenges.
i feel no shame in this; some people are really good at certain things,
and others are really good at appointing the first ten minutes of the day to
"huddles, so that we can go over specific things for the day".
i imagine the latter never experience the thrill of living on cereal for dinner
for days on end.

finally, we are done with this sordid affair, and walk my deliberately
agitated body to the back of the office. as i pass a window,
i hear the sirens of an emergency vehicle on the street and think to myself
"Jesus Fucking Christ, we are talking about millimeters here".

5.3.14 Leave a comment

funnel

here is a thing i have been pondering for a little while now:
the sheer amount of creative output a person can receive these days
is astounding (which may be an understatement).

even 10 years ago, the ease of which one could check out a new album
or find a particular book was far less than it is today.
we are so lucky to be living in a time where information and entertainment
are available essentially 24/7, as long as you have a bit of disposable income.

if you take the time to really think about this,
trust me, it will boggle your mind.
the next time you youtube a song you just heard on the radio,
stream a cult classic on netflix, etc.,
pause and reflect on how fucking easy it was to do so.
as much as people (read as: "grown ups") consider our generation to be
time wasters with social media and the internet,
the fact remains that we are inundated with stuff, basically.
just tons and tons and shit tons of stuff.

seriously, think about it.
if it does not blow your mind off its rusty hinges,
then you are not considering it hard enough.

4.3.14 Leave a comment

despair in the big picture

as a way to use my considerably large amount of free time
in some credible way (although to whom i would receive credit from
i cannot fathom in the slightest)
i am attempting to write more.

here are the most glaring problems i have faced so far:

1. i am not a smart man. i have neither the training nor capacity
to take on a project the scale of which i will allow to get myself behind.
in essence, i do not wish to write something solely for the sake of it's existence,
or for my own satisfaction; i want to write something that actually means something
to other people who might venture to read it.
the issue inherent with that is that i am not a writer.
i do not possess the tools to flesh out my thoughts in a cohesive manner,
nor in a way that will make whatever i create meaningful on a level
comprehensible to literate adults
(as in not just some plot-driven flash in the pan
with no point and all show).

2. i cannot choose a topic concrete enough to write about.
i know i want to approach the subject of "the state of society"
a la DFW, but there are inherent issues with that as well.
for one, i have no idea what the state of society really is;
the concept itself is vague and encompasses such a large amount of subject matter
that i do not know who/what/when/where/how to approach it from/with/from/from/
(that actually works on its own).
also, even if i attempt to make some grand point about "society",
it will come from my incredibly sheltered view of it,
considering i am part of a privileged group that experiences things
very differently than others in the same country, state, and even city, no less.
i have no point-of-view that allows me any sort of "expertise"
in what the collective consciousness of the nation
(which is the largest population of people i feel like i can comment on
without being a complete ignoramus)
is at the moment, or how it has changed over the past decade,
or even the past year.
the only entrances i have to the masses are bits of pop culture,
the internet and its relevance on why i find myself surrounded by assholes (essentially),
a small amount of knowledge on the effect of the incredible
diversity of media available to just about everyone with some money,
and a cursory taste of california in all its golden glory.

3. my life. or, more specifically, my choices that have led
to me being who i am now.
i firmly believe that if i had stuck to my convictions,
i would have been drunkenly happy working at a shitty cafe
while going to school to learn how to properly write
and simultaneously keeping my parents' hearts deeply unsettled.
i am not saying i do not like where i am now.
i love my job, and i love the possibilities it has afforded me.
but really, i am a fairly simple creature in terms of needs,
and i would ultimately have been better off putting my sometimes fervent
energies into something creative rather than concrete.

obviously, 99% of those who read this might conclude that
i have, in fact, been the most covertly pretentious person you have ever known,
and that i mock more or less any writer that does not fit my standard
of writing as an attempt to convey ideas of great importance.
i understand your dismay, and in fact, i am frequently irritated at myself,
frustrated even, that i am so quick to dismiss most writing, and actually
most creative output, as "trivial" (anyone who has heard me rant about
bruno mars can chime in on this).
i realize the determination, courage, hard work, and strength of will
it takes to write even the lowliest of paperback romances,
and i commend completely anyone who does it.
the fact of the matter is, i have none of those;
i have always placed in high esteem those who have such traits,
whether it translates to writing, music, film, art, and even religion.
in many ways, i find writing to be analogous to practicing religion
in that one must have a fervent belief in something,
and not be afraid to put their own existence on the backburner
for something greater than themselves.
this is the part where i could delve deeper into what religion means to me
and why i use it as an example here, but that would require a level of effort
i seem to have misplaced last night around 2am when i could not sleep.

maybe one day, i will be able to translate my observations about the
world that i fight to exist in comfortably into some print on paper,
but i fear that day is not now.
the only thing i suppose i could do is to work at it little by little.
and that is what i intend to do.

Leave a comment

slow down

if you take the chance to trust me,
i will not fear what i can build in your world.

6.2.14 Leave a comment

excessive

i worry too often, or at least for someone who has most of their lives sorted.

i worry about my family.
i worry about my friends.
i worry about tomorrow, and the day before.
i worry about drinking too much coffee.
i worry about sleeping.
i worry about how my shirt looks at the end of the day,
when all the worried wrinkles show.
i worry about the lack of experience in my fingers
when i try to play my guitar.
i worry about my phone.
i worry about recycling.
i worry about people liking me,
then i turn around and worry about worrying about people liking me too much.

mostly, i worry about myself.
i worry about when i will get there.
i worry about how i will get there.
i worry if i will find what it is that escapes me.

some days i notice myself making a list obsessively,
and i wonder why a 24 year old guy with an entire life to live
worries so much about everything.
i become tangled inside, a knot of anxiety
and fear of not knowing about most things.

"when i was young, i didn't know too much/
i used to think that i could rule the world.
then i grew up and found out life was hard/
harder than stone."

i think the reason why i find myself attracted to grounded people
is that i envy them, and i wish that i could stick myself firmly to this world
like they do. i suppose more than anything i need someone to count on
when i find that i am too confused about life.

the only problem is, i find stability to be awfully dull.

4.2.14 Leave a comment

the clinking of dog food in a bowl

two things;
i will start with the shorter, more recent one.

the drive back from work usually sees me on the road around sunset.
more often than not, the last wisp of color keeps me company
between the sky and costa mesa, at least until i leave the city
and delve into irvine proper.
there has been a stretch of evenings where i believe
(although being wholly new to ocean-side living,
i am not an amateur meteorologist as everyone seems to be
around these parts)
the pacific brought in a tiny amount of weather and fog;
so small in increment, almost like an afterthought stroke
to signify a hint of texture on canvas.
my car cuts through this mist, and the light fades cheerfully away,
and it is the end of the work day.
everything comes together to put my consciousness in an
"overly-relaxed" state, and i pass out before 7pm peacefully.

i doubt i have seen true love more than a handful of times
in my life, let alone experienced it.
i feel true love every time i am home, usually around 10-11pm.
my parents finish watching television,
and sometimes go into their room leaving me to deal with nala and mint.
i tell them to wake up and go outside to pee,
usually in korean, and mint gets up like the four year old
hyperactive, eager-to-please, near-zealot that she is.
nala carries nearly a decade of domesticity on her shaggy face;
a life filled with spurts of excessive joy,
throes of sloth, and an overall simple, dog-minded pursuit of leisure.
i was a part of all those things for her, and every time
we interact in any way, there is a history behind it.
she looks up at me from the couch, sees that mint has already
found her position in front of the door,
and does what any late-aged organism would do to will themselves into action:
sigh, prop up two limbs at a time, stretch for maintenance's sake,
and trundle along to the next second.
she reaches mint (who is all tail and tongue, by the way)
and finds her annoying, most likely, although i can never truly tell
if her whisker twitches signify petulance or affection.
i unlock the backyard door, and mint bursts forth without hesitation.
nala usually looks at me once in the eyes,
then slowly makes her way past the door frame,
just as she has done for the last ten years.
this is where i believe the unconditional love part comes in:
a creature barely a foot tall, maybe weighing 15 pounds,
closing in on the end of her existence, terrified of anything that makes a sound
she does not hear on a regular basis,
gives not a moment's hesitation as she leaves my presence and ventures
into the pitch black of the backyard, a place where anything can happen,
where nothing can be seen and everything heard clearly in the night.
she makes no motion to stop and think,
because she trusts completely that i am there to save her from anything
that might cause her harm, because she knows in her
beautiful, unobtainable, lovable mind that i love her and
will always love her no matter what.
and so she can dirty her legs on the wet grass as she walks back in
nonchalantly, giving me another look when mint squeezes in by her
instead of just waiting to come in after,
and i know that if the world ended in my backyard at that very moment,
i would throw myself at her (and hopefully be able to scoop up
the appropriately-shaped mint-tube from the tile floor with one hand)
and hope that nothing bad has happened, or will ever happen,
to this dog that i love.

27.1.14 Leave a comment

counting turns

i really am bursting to my skin with things to say;
i find it hard to line up a right time and the right words to do so.

another brilliant year gone by, and i finally have things to show for it.
i am surprisingly, and perhaps uncomfortably, proud of myself
for getting to today, despite what my nonchalance suggests.
yesterdays were the ones that held secrets, but now they are laid bare,
singing some quantifiable map that i can finally understand.
tomorrows will now shake in delight for being the secret-keepers
i chase to catch each day.

besides the annual whipping boy resolution
of being kinder to myself, i realized a few days ago
that i would rather choose not to lock myself in with any others.
i shudder to think of a situation where life does away with
all citrus plants on earth when i absolve to make a better lemonade;
who knows what may happen even a breath from now?
as long as i can be happy i will choose to do the things that i
inevitably want to do.

this is a vision i keep having:
standing in between the trees that are my neighbors now,
creating through my legendary and celebrated thought-alchemy
a miniature version of myself.
maybe about a foot tall.
wearing the clothes that i am wearing.
i stare at him as he jumps from the ground and begins to float
in midair (maybe a tribute to my continued
flabbergasted attitude towards gravity and all its mindcrushing implications).
then i point to him with my right index finger,
slowly making bigger and bigger circles around
that messy hair of his;
he begins to revolve slowly with my determination.
one by one, things start appearing from the tip of my finger,
things that i attribute to my ephemeral version of love:
a blanket, my guitar, bottles of water,
books, all the jumbled livery of my attempts at writing,
some favorite clothes of mine that i resign to share, etc.
then i realize this is me that i am seeing.
this is me surrounded by every single thing i want to give to someone,
me that is impatient to be a part of something more again.
when i see me floating there,
i muster up every ounce of energy i have and prepare myself
to throw this "all-laid-out" me at someone.
then i come to my sense, and the leaves on the ground
smell in their wonderful damp, wintry way,
the traffic noise hits my face in waves,
the reality of the moment tunes in with a blip.

what i am saying is that i am overflowing right now.
i feel uneven, although in a good way of sorts,
and i have this urgent need to go full force
straight into someone else.

yes, i speak like a madman. i feel like a madman.
more than anything, i want to prove again that i really do
have something wonderful to give to someone else,
as long as i get a chance.
i hope i can find someone brave enough to accept that.

you know, dear readers, i write this quite a lot here:
dum spiro spero.
when i first read that phrase, i fell in love with it more so than
i fell in love with many things.
i fell in love with it because this phrase, more than any others,
represents how i feel about life,
during the best times and the worst.
i like to imagine some ancient person in some ancient land,
looking up at the night sky,
feeling that same feeling i have of being so purely happy that we are alive,
able to see the glory that is the existence of each speck of light we see
against the backdrop of infinity.
maybe thousands of years separate us,
and the soundtrack to this moment is most assuredly different,
and we probably do not look much alike
(although i have been told i have greco-like features
by my mother, which means it must be true).
but when this person bravely put into words what countless people
believed before them, and will continue to believe far past
the days when their bones dissolve into molecules,
they made this idea ageless, perhaps even transcendent.
i know i am a resigned romantic,
but i fell in love with that vision, and i fell in love with that phrase,
that phrase so perfect in my eyes.

so happy new year, everyone,
and i sincerely wish nothing but the best for you all;
if nothing else, while you breath, you hope as well.

4.1.14 Leave a comment

« Older Posts Newer Posts »

About Me

search this shit