hushweeva's Xanga

Sometimes

Mon, 11 Aug 2008 12:21:09 GMT

Sometimes

i have a day or a couple of days

when i find that i am behaving

like a needy child.

and then i step back and see myself

and i am embarrassed.

c

notes

Fri, 08 Aug 2008 20:36:44 GMT

To render existence down to its purest essence… Is the purest essence the physical routine of waking and sleeping, of hunting and gathering, of ingesting and digesting so that one might live to reproduce? Or is the essence mental? Is the essence found outside of the fabric of everyday life? Life cannot be separated from the actions that maintain it, but it can be separated from the contemplation of itself. The hunters and the gatherers must feed the poets. Yet the poets could not continue to exist if there was not a poet’s soul in every hunter and gatherer. Every laborer on the street has a sense of himself as a being of poetry.

He looks up from his jackhammer at his reflection in a storefront mirror and watches the cloud of concrete dust roiling away in the slight breeze; he sees the reflection of the sky in his sunglasses as he pulls off his hard hat and wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. The vision fades. He looks back to the work at hand. He puts the flat bit of his 120lb air hammer against a bulging piece of concrete and pulls back on the trigger. He locks his elbows and leans his hips into the machine for more leverage. He grits his teeth and grimaces with the exertion. As the morning wears on the traffic increases, the sun gets hotter; there is no longer a breeze. Occasionally he looks up from his work to see a passenger in a car looking intently at what he is doing or to see a woman on the sidewalk pause to wait on her son who is plugging his ears with his fingers and attentively watching him as he chips around another piece of rebar. He vicariously sees himself as they see him. He sees an animated version of his own reflection and knows that it is true to form.

The capturing of a thing, a time, an action, a feeling is poetry; even if it is only a silent acknowledgement between a man and himself, it is the marker of a poet’s soul.

When I sat down at the computer this morning I originally meant to explore the idea of there being a physical self and a spirit self that are recognizable and inseparable entities in the existence of every human; Yet perhaps the spirit self is what can be perceived as the poet and artist that lives in every person. It is the part of us that loves the grandeur of the mountains and the excellence of Michelangelo’s David. It is the part that marvels at the magnificence of the ocean and is perpetually astonished by the perfection of a baby’s hand. This soul of man desires to express and to expose itself for the world to see, in stark opposition to the physical self which covers its nakedness and protects itself with walls and doors and locks and guns.

It is not hard to see what part of a human is immortal; for that part does not fear.

c

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Tue, 08 Jul 2008 20:14:13 GMT

When,

as a child,

i mentally pictured myself as an adult,

i thought i would be taller,

and

i thought adulthood would be more profound.

Perhaps it is.

I think it might have just become so

because i am quite sure

i do not remember ever

previously having a thought

in which i pictured my current self

as an adult.

happy

Fri, 04 Jul 2008 18:24:27 GMT

happy 4th.

i wish i could get a freaking hotdog and a lemonade or something. there is something about the fourth of july that just begs for a trip to wal-mart for paper plates and then some random gathering where people thing very little about the independence of the US. Last year i went to tyler slate's house and got just what i came for... a cut hand on a beer bottle that i was trying to pick up after some smart guy threw a mortar into the garage and rattled my teeth.

anyway

it's the 4th and i'm in spain.

and i'm not sure there will be any fireworks tonight.
actually i take that back
there are random fireworks here all the time
alright
it's 9.23pm
and not dark

it gets dark at like 1030

which is strange because i think i am about the same latitude as kansas

alright

i'm out
c

ok

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 14:39:19 GMT

so i have mostly transferred all of my serious writing to http://www.transientchronicles.com if anyone is interested

hopefully i'll get myself a camera cord and then i can get some pictures up too

c

sung into existence

Tue, 03 Jun 2008 02:36:34 GMT

I read a book that i really enjoyed in the last couple of days.
yeah that one up there on top of this post
it was really interesting
and thought provoking
and pretty well written

6 days now

then chicago for 2

and then over the pond

i think i am going to try and make a blog/photo site just for the trip

mostly so my grandmother doesn't try to come visit this page and see how foulmouthed her grandson can be

i'll keep you posted on that.

it's funny

how some say to go,

and some don't bother,

some say come back.

c

it's been too damn long

Thu, 29 May 2008 04:28:20 GMT

genuinely caring and giving people the benefit of the doubt must be a vice.

because it sure screws you like one

there are times i wish i could be single minded.

look out only for myself.

but in the meantime

eh, nevermind

i won't tell those stories, it's just self pity anyway

and in the meantime

i leave for spain in 10 days.

i hope to God that it is at least as good as i want it to be.

and i hope you miss me when i'm gone.

c

Setting: A porch in the rural South

Sun, 18 May 2008 01:44:08 GMT

I read some thornton wilder in one of the old literature books that i have accumulated from my years of thrift store addiction. It was pretty interesting, and it was not Our Town, which i actually like, and the memory of which caused me to stop as i was aimlessly flipping through the old book when i saw the name Thornton Wilder, i don't remember just what it was... "The skin of our teeth" i think was the name. i enjoyed it. on the porch as the sun was heading toward that hill in the west and the air was starting to cool around my legs. Because of that hill the sun sets a bit earlier as viewed from my house than it does from, well, anywhere that is not behind a hill in relation to the sun. i can mark the passage of days and tell you what season it is by the location of the sun as it sets behind that hill. And soon i will not get to sit on this porch and know the seasons by the sun's location in relation to that hill. my dad says by the end of July. I would like my own house to begin a life with. and more than that. much more than that. But for now, i am starting to pack up. If the family moves while i am gone, i want to make sure my things are already packed...

pleasantly wistful and dreaming is the mood today.

and i wonder if the thought of me ever makes someone to involuntarily utter a wordless sound through clenched teeth.

and i wonder if it's frustration or something else

probably just another little piece of what i've committed leaving my body through my mouth.

i keep giving up, you know,
and then taking it back
and i'll do it again,
that's what makes me.
but don't wait too long.
if i can muster the courage,
i may finish that chapter of this book,
one way or another
nothing after can remain the same.

it's funny, you know.

How i'm better when i'm gone.

fin
c

the plot thickens

Tue, 13 May 2008 00:38:03 GMT

Dude , It's already the 12th.

So if you could just slide your rent under the door, that would be great.

May.

The part of spring that is mostly summer.

And the sun setting from here looks just as it should from Arkansas on a late spring day.

And it is just cool enough to wear long sleeves,

and it is just warm enough that short ones are ok too.

and there are quite a few things rattling around in my head today.

and i wrote it all out for you, then i took it all back.

you'll have to come closer for that.
c

to you

Thu, 08 May 2008 03:51:26 GMT

to you who keep up with me.

i am leaving Nebraska tomorrow to return to arkansas for a spell.

I was released from my job today at about 6 and i decided to stay the night rather than drive back late

i'm looking forward to being home

and having nothing that i have to do.

where it is warm and the wind is not constant

and i can go fishing

and wade in some creeks

i'm ready

c