petty people and the world of myspace

Why is myspace such a big deal to people?
I have gotten messages from 2 people saying that they couldn't believe I deleted them. Do I really need to explain myself? If I wasn't your best friend, who the fuck cares? Especially coming from people who claim that myspace doesn't phase them..
Just goes to show how people really are.
And what they care about...

I think I'm deleting my myspace. I am really irritated right now, and you know what myspace isn't that great. It just relieves me of my boredom, and makes me more attached to the computer, which is just like a TV in my opinion. And I am starting to hate that too....

the theme of moments (reflective)

In the last post, I described this moment with my dad.
Last night, I thought of all these moments.
I have had so many "moments". Prof. Guzman discussed this in one of my classes, and I thought about it even more..

There are a few moments that I am grateful that I've had especially with people I've had them with.
So here's a description of a few moments :

1. Childhood. Birthday dinners with the grandparents. Toys R Us parking lot. My grandma saying, "Would you look at that sunset?" The perfect moment. Before sickness, before pain, before any death. Before I lost both of my grandparents. I felt infinite, even as a seven year old.

2. Best friends. Summer. The city. An unexpected turn of events. Lake Shore Drive, and the sunset reflecting into the buildings. Yellowcard blasting, and the windows down. This moment made my 2004 summer. Our in sync voices singing the tunes that we loved. It makes me appreciate Tabitha more than she could know.

3. Best guy friend. The love. The hate. Never hanging out, but finally we did. Cancer, sickness, But the laughs. Denis Leary's "No Cure for Cancer", the constant f-bombs being dropped, while the foreign relatives are disgusted. It's a moment like this, that I will never forget him. Never.


There are so many more. But those specific three remind me of the best times of my life. It's those little moments, that everyone has, that everyone should appreciate. I hope you get the chance to have one of these type of moments. It makes the pain of people leaving, dying, or just moving out of your life, a little easier...

the bitter cold, classic forties, and Jethro Tull moment

My house is an old house, and you can hear the wind making it creek. When a huge gust of wind comes through, it's like my house is moving with it (and I want to say that literally I think it is). Walking through Berwyn is never pleasant in this weather. Hell, any place is never pleasant, especially when you just get out of a warm bed. The thing is, winter is beautiful. The snow on the ground, and on the trees illuminates from the sun. Amazing.

Last night was interesting to say the least. I was supposed to stay out in Naperville, two of my closest friends were doing something fun. BUt I decided to go home. I really wanted to just be with my parents and sister. But then, I'm sitting around my house late night, wanting to go out. Whoops. I knew my one friend had work in the morning so I decided not to call because I knew by the time I got out there, I'd end up going back because of sleep. So, I look to the Berwyn friends, and man, were they ready to go crazy. I picked up my friend Brennan and off we were to Paul's apartment. Most of the usual group showed up, and everyone, of course was having a great time consuming alcohol. I had my class Miller Lite 40 oz. I love them because if you want to get drunk you can, if you don't want to you can pace yourself. So the party goes on as usual with that group, screams, laughs, kisses, naps, etc. Talks of me and Brennan went I'm sure of it. But nothing will EVER happen AGAIN. Never. I have sailed that boat, to never be sailed again. But people will talk, I understand..
Anyways, the night went on from there. It was fun I hadn't had in a while.

Tonight, was amazing. I had what a "moment" this moment was with my dad. Driving home from Twelve Angry Men in the city, jamming out to Too Old for Rock and Roll by Jethro Tull, dancing. It was one of the best feelings ever. I love my dad very much, and he is like a best friend to me. I thank every day for him. I love my parents but my dad and I are so close. What a good night.
I was going to go further into detail, but I am really tired.....

in memory (an old one but i like it)

your eyes looked at mine and you just half smiled.
i was embarrassed.
"I'm just not happy. I'm just not happy because my life didn't turn out the way I thought it would. Well, hey, Join the fucking club. I thought i was going to be the starting center fielder for the Boston Red Sox. Life sucks get a fucking helmet."
Laughter coming from 3 out of the 5.
Stern looks from the relatives originally from Mexico.
"Quien esta?"
"Dennis Leary, Tia"
"Ah...si.."
I walked downstairs so I could get a breath of fresh carbon monoxide.
I was used to this scene.
The smell of cigarettes from the depressed visitors and the overworked nurses.
I go back up with coffees in hand for the group.
The elevator is filled with murmors of life and death....
I couldn't stop staring at you.
Maybe it was because I was realizing what I should have realized a while ago.
Or maybe it was because you just couldn't stop heaving.
The nurse came in to check your pick line.
I decided that would be a good time as any to sneak out.
You gave me a hug.
The bear ones that I like.
And I left and disappeared into the crowd of people on Michigan Ave.
I pass people like a ghost in my own world.
Those train rides home were never pleasant ones.
No matter what I listened to.
I could still hear the dry heaving in the background.
I could still smell the hospital.
I could still hear the coughs.
And I could still see your eyes filled with pain staring into mine.


Months later, I can't remember smell, or the sound of your laugh, or hear the coughs...
but I can see those eyes.


The eyes that are burning a hole in my brain.

You've got have a hook

If you've never heard of Sage Francis. You must listen to him.
This song is called Political Poem.
Read, and listen to him because you can't really feel the song reading it.. you must hear it. must.

However it begins, it's gotta be loud and then it's gotta get a little bit louder. Because this is how you write a political poem and how you deliver it with power.
Mix current events with platitudes of empowerment. Wrap up in rhyme or rhyme it up in rap until it sounds true.
Glare until it sinks in.
Because somewhere in Florida, votes are still being counted. I said somewhere in Florida, votes are still being counted!
See, that's the Hook, and you gotta' have a Hook. More than the look, it's the hook that is the most important part. The hook has to hit and the hook's gotta fit. Hook's gotta hit hard in the heart.
Because somewhere in Florida, votes are still being counted.
And Dick Cheney is peeing all over himself in spasmodic delight.
Make fun of politicians, it's easy, especially with Republicans like Rudy Giuliani, Colin Powell, and . . . Al Gore.
Ooooh you see what I did? I called Al Gore a REPUBLICAN!
Create fatuous juxtapositions of personalities and political philosophies as if communism were the opposite of democracy, as if we needed Darth Vader, not Ralph Nader.
Peep this: When I say "Call," you all say, "Response."
Call! Response! Call! Response! Call!
Amazing Grace, how sweet the—
Stop in the middle of a song that everyone knows and loves.
This will give your poem a sense of urgency.
Because there is always a sense of urgency in a political poem.
There is no time to waste!
Corruption doesn't have a curfew, greed doesn't care what color you are and the New York City Police Department is filled with people who wear guns on their hips and carry metal badges pinned over their hearts.
Injustice isn't injustice it's just in us as we are just in ice.
That's the only alienation of this alien nation in which you either fight for freedom or else you are free and dumb!
And even as I say this somewhere in Florida, votes are still being counted.
And it makes me wanna ... it makes me wanna... [beat box]
Because I have seen the disintegration of gentrification and can speak with great articulation about cosmic constellations, and atomic radiation.
I've seen D. W. Griffith's Birth of a Nation but preferred 101 Dalmations.
Like a cross examination, I will give you the explanation of why SlamNation is the ultimate manifestation of poetic masturbation and egotistical ejaculation.
And maybe they are still counting votes somewhere in Florida, but by the time you get to the end of the poem it won't matter anymore.
Because all you have to do is close your eyes, lower your voice, and end by saying:
the same line three times,
the same line three times,
the same line three times.