i guess i'm not leaving this behind yet. but i don't think it can inhabit my thoughts anymore the way it used to. too many eyes. my thoughts are better saved for the tunnel of mouth to ear, from my window to yours.
instead i shall sort of my head.
i finished reading 'the god of small things'. i liked it a lot, but she (the author, Arundhati Roy) made the foreshadowing of certain events just a little too obvious, which bugged me the slightest bit. but still, amazing book. and i want to read 'the inheritance of loss', too, but i have to space that with a few books. two indian novels in a row...i like spacing it out. like, for instance, i wouldn't read Kundera and then read Klima. that's just inane.
but the ordered book list for my next few reads is as such:
- the book of laughter and forgetting - kundera
- the madonnas of leningrad - dean
- suite francaise - nemirosky
- love and garbage - klima
- hunger - hamsun
- brief encounters with che guevara (short stories) - fountain
- the heart is a lonely hunter - mccullers
- the inheritance of loss - desai
believe it or not, i stacked those books in order on my bookshelf. i like the calm inside of chaos.
and i love rufus' new album. seriously.
do i disappoint you in just being human?
31 May 2007
29 May 2007
when i realized that i must begin to leave things behind
i refuse to leave most things behind for now. i shall keep them in my mind and heart.
but i am ready to let this blog go, i do believe. it has become effete. pointless. sterile. barren. as pretty as it is, i need to abandon it. there is so much left to be said that i am must remain silent.
yes.
but i am ready to let this blog go, i do believe. it has become effete. pointless. sterile. barren. as pretty as it is, i need to abandon it. there is so much left to be said that i am must remain silent.
yes.
21 May 2007
when i felt silly
i read the post that i put up last night in my jejune little fiery stupor of faux-rage and think 'my lord, why did i write such things?' because of course this morning i look at what i wrote and how i felt and i realize that those emotions were just temporary, and that, thank buddah, i don't really feel that way. i don't truly believe that i sit on a golden throne overlooking a kingdom of shit. i don't really think i'll always fail or always be rejected. in fact, if i look at it, every situation i've ever been in was not out of the breadth of my control. all i have to do is realize that you can't judge things on a simple day-to-day basis. so i was irritated last night, so what. it probably had little to do with why i thought i was irritated.
what i'm really trying to do it more or less discredit my supine self-pitying self of last night (and other moments). these sorts of things do not have wings and they do not suddenly change or vanish from one day to the next. i like that metaphor. they don't have wings. that's a nice image.
sometimes perhaps i should simply let things be (thanks, hamlet) and just take it with a shrug and say "c'est la vie, non?" because truly that is all life is: a series of moments that, thankfully, gratefully, mercifully, pass.
and rufus' new album is really quite good. i've listened to 'going to a town' at least 8 times in the last two days.
what i'm really trying to do it more or less discredit my supine self-pitying self of last night (and other moments). these sorts of things do not have wings and they do not suddenly change or vanish from one day to the next. i like that metaphor. they don't have wings. that's a nice image.
sometimes perhaps i should simply let things be (thanks, hamlet) and just take it with a shrug and say "c'est la vie, non?" because truly that is all life is: a series of moments that, thankfully, gratefully, mercifully, pass.
and rufus' new album is really quite good. i've listened to 'going to a town' at least 8 times in the last two days.
20 May 2007
when i didn't understand/hated the ocean inside of me
i do not remember the last time i was so mad, driving home tonight at sixty miles per hour on rinaldi listening to "apres moi" as loud as my ears could handle. and i don't remember the last night not being fully aware of why.
i just don't understand. it's like i build myself this golden throne of a mountain only to look over a city full of shit. like, i give myself the illusion, the demure disillusion that for once perhaps something will be nice without me cloaking it in my own self-effacing doubt. do i have to dig myself this concrete castle of shadow and question?
but what does it matter? i know the true fact of the forthcoming future. it's imminent. though half of me is saying 'you are a clown to doubt yourself, simple, monstrous fool,' the other half of me speaks as loud as the sun and it hurts every bone in my body because it's screaming "no, you'll always fail, you'll always be rejected, nothing will ever work out in the end. and you're a damn fool, boy. a damn fool, you know. you think you carry the universe on your back when in truth you're nothing more than the smallest grain of sand, barely touched by the turns and tides of anything heavy or light, anything worthy of laughter or loving or even forgetting. you are merely a paragon of dust, you poor poor animal."
what sort of sick sculptor cast me with such weak clay?
and i don't even know what you are to me, sweet minaret of a character in my sad little story. are we riding high the white foamy crests of time's ocean, or am i drowning and pulling you down with me while you struggle to the surface for a simple breath of sea air?
you see, but now that i am seeing eye to eye with my mirrored self, i realize that all the emotions i felt were not as strong as i thought they were, because with these words, they left me like an exorcism.
some things are static and some things are as liquid as the sea; one is as solid as stone, and the other is constantly moving and churning but in truth always staying the same.
so there. life is comprised of obvious constancy and overall constancy.
i am leaving my static clouds now for the salty air, the moonswept tides, and the chance that perhaps once or twice in my entire life i'll be able to swim through the storms instead drown in them.
--
p.s. there is a likely chance that none of the above words carry any true emotional value. they are merely raindrops onto a cold and unforgiving concrete street.
i just don't understand. it's like i build myself this golden throne of a mountain only to look over a city full of shit. like, i give myself the illusion, the demure disillusion that for once perhaps something will be nice without me cloaking it in my own self-effacing doubt. do i have to dig myself this concrete castle of shadow and question?
but what does it matter? i know the true fact of the forthcoming future. it's imminent. though half of me is saying 'you are a clown to doubt yourself, simple, monstrous fool,' the other half of me speaks as loud as the sun and it hurts every bone in my body because it's screaming "no, you'll always fail, you'll always be rejected, nothing will ever work out in the end. and you're a damn fool, boy. a damn fool, you know. you think you carry the universe on your back when in truth you're nothing more than the smallest grain of sand, barely touched by the turns and tides of anything heavy or light, anything worthy of laughter or loving or even forgetting. you are merely a paragon of dust, you poor poor animal."
what sort of sick sculptor cast me with such weak clay?
and i don't even know what you are to me, sweet minaret of a character in my sad little story. are we riding high the white foamy crests of time's ocean, or am i drowning and pulling you down with me while you struggle to the surface for a simple breath of sea air?
you see, but now that i am seeing eye to eye with my mirrored self, i realize that all the emotions i felt were not as strong as i thought they were, because with these words, they left me like an exorcism.
some things are static and some things are as liquid as the sea; one is as solid as stone, and the other is constantly moving and churning but in truth always staying the same.
so there. life is comprised of obvious constancy and overall constancy.
i am leaving my static clouds now for the salty air, the moonswept tides, and the chance that perhaps once or twice in my entire life i'll be able to swim through the storms instead drown in them.
--
p.s. there is a likely chance that none of the above words carry any true emotional value. they are merely raindrops onto a cold and unforgiving concrete street.
14 May 2007
when i took off
the reality of time is becoming a lot more apparent lately. i'm slowly realizing truly how few days left i have here amongst all these people. in sixteen days from today, i graduate high school. five days later, i leave for europe for an entire month. then i have a meager month and a half left until i leave temporarily for good to portland, oregon (slow gin fizz) to run and fly in the heat of a new place, new people, a new life. more or less.
but then again:
i have sixteen long summer days left with the people i love in high school until we all graduate together. who knows what sort of adventures those sixteen days hold. midnight Pirates? Beach days? then graduation. of course. and then an entire month in the beauty of another continent; the italian aura of pulchritude, snowcapped alps, the allure and lust of london and paris....
and then the infinity of my time in southern california will come to a close but the door will forever remain ajar.
things are either ending or just being put on pause, that's all.
i finished catch 22. and i'm almost late for third period now.
au revoir.
but then again:
i have sixteen long summer days left with the people i love in high school until we all graduate together. who knows what sort of adventures those sixteen days hold. midnight Pirates? Beach days? then graduation. of course. and then an entire month in the beauty of another continent; the italian aura of pulchritude, snowcapped alps, the allure and lust of london and paris....
and then the infinity of my time in southern california will come to a close but the door will forever remain ajar.
things are either ending or just being put on pause, that's all.
i finished catch 22. and i'm almost late for third period now.
au revoir.
10 May 2007
when i wasn't surprised but disappointed all the same
From : Poetry, The New Yoker: TNY_Poetry@advancemags.com
Sent : Thursday, May 10, 2007 11:42 AM
To : Me: siriusjames@hotmail.com
We regret that we are unable to use the enclosed material. Thank you for
giving us the opportunity to consider it.
Sincerely,
The Editors
--
i submitted poetry.
alas.
Sent : Thursday, May 10, 2007 11:42 AM
To : Me: siriusjames@hotmail.com
We regret that we are unable to use the enclosed material. Thank you for
giving us the opportunity to consider it.
Sincerely,
The Editors
--
i submitted poetry.
alas.
when i was sad
i feel sad for not having gone to the after AP Lit Test Beach Party today. i'm not sure why i didn't go. but i didn't, and i lament that fact now. i gained nothing out of staying home. anyway.
in other news:
my goal of abstaining from the internet in order to finish reading catch 22 has failed to be reached, though i am making considerable progress and should be done by the weekend. i have roughly 100 pages left.
that makes me happy.
and now i am stuck between the balance of emotions, and i am simply myself again.
in other news:
my goal of abstaining from the internet in order to finish reading catch 22 has failed to be reached, though i am making considerable progress and should be done by the weekend. i have roughly 100 pages left.
that makes me happy.
and now i am stuck between the balance of emotions, and i am simply myself again.
08 May 2007
when i made a goal
one thing. no. two things. or three.
1) i will not return to the computer/internet until i finish reading catch-22. no exceptions.
2) it's remarkable how silent everyone has been lately (blog-wise)
3) i shall read fifty pages a day. at a minimum.
and 4) i cannot get "rebellion(lies)" out of my head. i just have that line playing on repeat in my head: "everytime you close your eyes (lies, lies!)"
c'est tout.
1) i will not return to the computer/internet until i finish reading catch-22. no exceptions.
2) it's remarkable how silent everyone has been lately (blog-wise)
3) i shall read fifty pages a day. at a minimum.
and 4) i cannot get "rebellion(lies)" out of my head. i just have that line playing on repeat in my head: "everytime you close your eyes (lies, lies!)"
c'est tout.
03 May 2007
when i listened to the arcade fire for nearly six hours
and hm, wow.
how heavy things have become,
like sunlight.
and how very warm i am indeed.
(it is a good thing)
oh, and:
i kissed her where it was sore, and she felt better.
how heavy things have become,
like sunlight.
and how very warm i am indeed.
(it is a good thing)
oh, and:
i kissed her where it was sore, and she felt better.
02 May 2007
when i was illuminated and drank the poison of your rage
there is a poem i wrote tonight that i will not put here, but if you seek it you will find it.
instead:
dated 4/24/07:
"the illumination"
but now that i -
hope-bandaged
and imminently departed so -
sit and think upon
what heights
i thought i had
swam to, i realize,
i see -
i am not clearly as
opaque
as i was once fooled to be,
for the reason of my
earthquakes
leaks out of my skin
in every atomic assembly
of my ripe and
unplucked soul
and becomes all but
someone else -
roots that grown
upside-down into the
shade
and wings that kept us
floating -
we returned, inebriated all
with age and the whips
of time -
for then now
and furthermore our past becomes
everything,
our present becomes
nothing but electronic
dust
that unfolds its way
into an inverse future where
in going forwards,
we are only propelled
backwards
into the dark
of the sun:
And thus, with the sad
song of my heart
patronizing the soul of the
universe,
(dark as water)
i am illuminated:
nothing is bearable.
--
now we can all understand the lightness of everything.
instead:
dated 4/24/07:
"the illumination"
but now that i -
hope-bandaged
and imminently departed so -
sit and think upon
what heights
i thought i had
swam to, i realize,
i see -
i am not clearly as
opaque
as i was once fooled to be,
for the reason of my
earthquakes
leaks out of my skin
in every atomic assembly
of my ripe and
unplucked soul
and becomes all but
someone else -
roots that grown
upside-down into the
shade
and wings that kept us
floating -
we returned, inebriated all
with age and the whips
of time -
for then now
and furthermore our past becomes
everything,
our present becomes
nothing but electronic
dust
that unfolds its way
into an inverse future where
in going forwards,
we are only propelled
backwards
into the dark
of the sun:
And thus, with the sad
song of my heart
patronizing the soul of the
universe,
(dark as water)
i am illuminated:
nothing is bearable.
--
now we can all understand the lightness of everything.
30 April 2007
when i loved july, july, and it never seemed so strange!
there are flowers growing in the sky.
--
this is what the rest of my life in california looks like:
april: oh wait. it's may in 35 minutes.
may:
1) hang out with michelle and the 3, respectively, until time turns over on itself (and whoever else slips into my routine).
2) AP Test. oh wait. screw those.
3) have the house to myself for a few days (everyone but me is going out of town: sister/dad to israel for two weeks, mom/brother to maryland for a week)
4) graduate!
5) pretend like it is not the end. because in one way it is not.
june:
1) wile away the first few days of june doing #1 from may and packing and preparing for europe
2) 4th-28th (or so): europe. all over. i'm excited. and not, i'll be honest. but it will be amazing.
3) 12th: i turn 18 in italy! huzzah.
4) 19th: the new white stripes album comes out! hoorah. i'll buy it in europe, perhaps.
5) probably, i will return and sleep for a few days straight.
JULY:
1) refer to #1 from may and june
2) 7th: OH WAIT CAN IT BE? THE DECEMBERISTS CONCERT! WITH MICHELLE/ANNA/ANNA/JAMES! (hopefully harley, anyway)
3) 13th: ORDER OF THE PHOENIX! the harry potter july madness begins.
4) 21st: the beginning of the end of a huge part of my life. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. oh man. i dread the last page. i may actually cry (something i rarely do).
5) stop sounding so trite already.
august:
1) the usual 1
2) pack for reed
3) --------- i will not say it.
if i kiss you where it's sore, will you feel better?
--
suddenly the sky is dark and clocks all around my head are melting like love in the summer sun.
lord. here it goes.
--
this is what the rest of my life in california looks like:
april: oh wait. it's may in 35 minutes.
may:
1) hang out with michelle and the 3, respectively, until time turns over on itself (and whoever else slips into my routine).
2) AP Test. oh wait. screw those.
3) have the house to myself for a few days (everyone but me is going out of town: sister/dad to israel for two weeks, mom/brother to maryland for a week)
4) graduate!
5) pretend like it is not the end. because in one way it is not.
june:
1) wile away the first few days of june doing #1 from may and packing and preparing for europe
2) 4th-28th (or so): europe. all over. i'm excited. and not, i'll be honest. but it will be amazing.
3) 12th: i turn 18 in italy! huzzah.
4) 19th: the new white stripes album comes out! hoorah. i'll buy it in europe, perhaps.
5) probably, i will return and sleep for a few days straight.
JULY:
1) refer to #1 from may and june
2) 7th: OH WAIT CAN IT BE? THE DECEMBERISTS CONCERT! WITH MICHELLE/ANNA/ANNA/JAMES! (hopefully harley, anyway)
3) 13th: ORDER OF THE PHOENIX! the harry potter july madness begins.
4) 21st: the beginning of the end of a huge part of my life. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. oh man. i dread the last page. i may actually cry (something i rarely do).
5) stop sounding so trite already.
august:
1) the usual 1
2) pack for reed
3) --------- i will not say it.
if i kiss you where it's sore, will you feel better?
--
suddenly the sky is dark and clocks all around my head are melting like love in the summer sun.
lord. here it goes.
28 April 2007
when i woke up my love
katie b. came over today.
and we recorded two songs.
we did redid "in and out of everything" and we worked on/recorded "brick walls" (aka "wake up my love"). they sound really good!
yeah.
just remember your mother's words: we're all falling in and out of everything.
--
i had extensive fun yesterday at the orchestra festival and afterwards. i do love those children, i do.
and we recorded two songs.
we did redid "in and out of everything" and we worked on/recorded "brick walls" (aka "wake up my love"). they sound really good!
yeah.
just remember your mother's words: we're all falling in and out of everything.
--
i had extensive fun yesterday at the orchestra festival and afterwards. i do love those children, i do.
when i addressed james and quoted extensively from the Good Book (not the bible)
james, you are a part of the intellegencia in plenty more ways than one. and you play a damn beautiful cello (i don't mean aesthetically, i mean musically). and from what i've read, your poetry, however often you produce it, is far from mediocre. in case you truly don't know that, it's really really really really really really really really really really really really really good. and it says some important things, which makes it even more really really really really really really good.
but, in case you're not convinced...
[james: mikey, i'm not convinced.
mikey: meh, eh...*demonstrates empty care cup*. aw just kidding, i care.]
...i have pulled up some valuable passages from the good Book of Intelligencia, written far before our time, but in English, thank the lord.
and i quote from the Book of Intelligencia:
page 823, section XXI, paragraph 2a:
"you question yourself and insecurities about your value to this world arise in the form of a poetic-prosaic whirlwind of self-doubt, comparing yourself to others around you in a self-deprecating manner. and the irony is that you dismiss your poetic/artistic/creative/[insert talent] value in a manner that merely reinforces your poetic/artistic/creative/[insert talent]. you say you are not poetic/artistic/creative/[insert talent] in a manner which IS poetic/artistic/creative/[insert talent]. oh, the irony."
paragraph 4c:
"you dismiss your talents as irrelevant (though they clearly are not) and claim you have lost the ability to perform them."
page 845, section II, paragraph 5d:
"you apologize to those you see you as equals, though your equality is a fact, not a disputable opion."
page 1003, section IV, paragraph 3e:
"in the occasional case of the true intelligencia, you state, boldly and completely, that you are at a total lack of passion, opinion, strength, and talent, when a mere glance into everything you create and pour your heart into would easily convince you otherwise."
page 2375, section VIII, paragraph 6j, on foolery:
"the only way you are a fool is by thinking you are a fool...in no other way are you a fool and not a member of the intelligencia but for thinking that the exact opposite is true."
page 4983, the epilogue:
"your care cup is full for all of those around you that you love and that love you."
and, of course, you can't forget the inscription on the cover of the book:
"we are who we are without realizing who we are:
we think, therefore we are:
we are nothing without anything:
we are art, beauty, life, and death."
c'est tout.
swarthmore is lucky to have you, jamesy. very, very lucky. it's not just some slight of chance that you got in and that you felt at home there. you're going there because you belong there, amongst a plethora of other talented people, all of them filled, like you, with the Life Poetic.
but, in case you're not convinced...
[james: mikey, i'm not convinced.
mikey: meh, eh...*demonstrates empty care cup*. aw just kidding, i care.]
...i have pulled up some valuable passages from the good Book of Intelligencia, written far before our time, but in English, thank the lord.
and i quote from the Book of Intelligencia:
page 823, section XXI, paragraph 2a:
"you question yourself and insecurities about your value to this world arise in the form of a poetic-prosaic whirlwind of self-doubt, comparing yourself to others around you in a self-deprecating manner. and the irony is that you dismiss your poetic/artistic/creative/[insert talent] value in a manner that merely reinforces your poetic/artistic/creative/[insert talent]. you say you are not poetic/artistic/creative/[insert talent] in a manner which IS poetic/artistic/creative/[insert talent]. oh, the irony."
paragraph 4c:
"you dismiss your talents as irrelevant (though they clearly are not) and claim you have lost the ability to perform them."
page 845, section II, paragraph 5d:
"you apologize to those you see you as equals, though your equality is a fact, not a disputable opion."
page 1003, section IV, paragraph 3e:
"in the occasional case of the true intelligencia, you state, boldly and completely, that you are at a total lack of passion, opinion, strength, and talent, when a mere glance into everything you create and pour your heart into would easily convince you otherwise."
page 2375, section VIII, paragraph 6j, on foolery:
"the only way you are a fool is by thinking you are a fool...in no other way are you a fool and not a member of the intelligencia but for thinking that the exact opposite is true."
page 4983, the epilogue:
"your care cup is full for all of those around you that you love and that love you."
and, of course, you can't forget the inscription on the cover of the book:
"we are who we are without realizing who we are:
we think, therefore we are:
we are nothing without anything:
we are art, beauty, life, and death."
c'est tout.
swarthmore is lucky to have you, jamesy. very, very lucky. it's not just some slight of chance that you got in and that you felt at home there. you're going there because you belong there, amongst a plethora of other talented people, all of them filled, like you, with the Life Poetic.
26 April 2007
when i wasn't frustrated anymore and discovered sufjan stevens (finally!)
i found the reed thing. well. my mom had it all along. i just didn't know that.
so it is official. at last.
and i cleaned up my room real nicely. threw some things away. put all my clothes in drawers/closet. i feel fresh.
--
cds i have bought recently:
arctic monkeys - favourite worst nightmare (amazing)
muse - black holes and revelations (rocking)
sufjan stevens - illinoise (now i see what michelle's been raving about)
ok yeah that's about it.
so it is official. at last.
and i cleaned up my room real nicely. threw some things away. put all my clothes in drawers/closet. i feel fresh.
--
cds i have bought recently:
arctic monkeys - favourite worst nightmare (amazing)
muse - black holes and revelations (rocking)
sufjan stevens - illinoise (now i see what michelle's been raving about)
ok yeah that's about it.
when i ran around the house in a fiery stupor
things are not well (on a very surface level). it's making me very nervous. for one thing, nothing is in order. my room is a mess. not to the casual eye. but i have random stacks of books all over my room. i have trash scattered here and there. the only two functioning drawers of my desk are filled to bursting with shit i probably don't need.
and on top of it all, i can't find my reed acceptance packet! i need to mail in the yes i'm coming thing, and i can't fucking find it! i tore the house apart for the last 30 minutes looking for it: my room, the kitchen, mom's office. i have NO fucking clue where it could be, unelss it was thrown away. in which case. fuck.
fjdkaljfeia.
anyway, the new arctic monkeys cd is phenomenal.
and on top of it all, i can't find my reed acceptance packet! i need to mail in the yes i'm coming thing, and i can't fucking find it! i tore the house apart for the last 30 minutes looking for it: my room, the kitchen, mom's office. i have NO fucking clue where it could be, unelss it was thrown away. in which case. fuck.
fjdkaljfeia.
anyway, the new arctic monkeys cd is phenomenal.
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