sdbo / thoughts

Sep 15 2009 ∞

“ So many languages you speak, that many times you are alive

— I’ve heard that this is a quote in Polish, though I don’t want to be held to that. I don’t believe it has to have come from any one place, I think it’s kind of the national anthem of a world we’ve been crawling toward since there was language for us to utter.

Sep 04 2009 ∞

"It's kinda cool doing stuff you love," he said.

I suppose I do believe in the power of rock.

As much as my outlook on a place like Pakistan depresses me, news that some strappy, foolish young people are trying to find expression of their strife, their culture, their world — especially in the face of convention and threat — makes me very, very happy. I’d even propose it as a metric of the stability of a country: if your young culture is making rock music then they’re going to be alright. You — aging, terrified, and possibly corrupt previous regime acting either politically, culturally, or economically — are possibly in for dissolution and blood, but someday your people are going to write songs exploring their strife with music from deep in their blood and wailing guitars.

Aug 31 2009 ∞

I feel like we're building ourselves an alien culture

+ ∞

There are conflagrations around the corners

I am unbearably selfish, I state
And these sounds echo in-between my near and far
Each reverberation melts by exponentiation
And then I remain unwaited
Ergodic path nosing its tail

My eyes strain to see beyond their periphery
My ears poised on the very edge of note
My fingers pull at the substance of my experience
All together searching for some hidden warmth
Something refulgent to taste

And so I continue, fully determined
To follow the thread leading from inside to out
To find whoever has had her finger in the dam
To whisper over rumbling, secret oceans
Give me your hand

Let us always reject thought
For it winds to stillness
Conversation alone opens skylights
And motion derives from a leap
Winds carry us forward through mists

Aug 30 2009 ∞

These guys greet anyone who enters my room, living on my desk. I think it’s interesting the way you design your room: it qualifies your taste without judgement. It’s often a look into all of the eclectic whimsy everyone’s mind can muster. Mine has musical instruments, watercolors, coffee cups, textbooks, and these guys.

Bristol board I use in paper models
Kanye-glasses I liberated from someone during a party
My headphones, beaten up and old, they’ve been with me for a lot of music
Stone characters from the Chinese epic 西游记 (Journey to the West).
Paper MF Doom. He makes me laugh. Every time.
Case that #8 came in.
Toilet paper for cleaning up watercolors
My paintbrush menagerie!
The corner of my monitor. Mostly used for watching movies.
A dissection kit. Here because I forgot to return it and get my deposit.
猫猫，一个大熊猫 He’s a proud panda.

Dec 08 2008 ∞

“ He smiled at her. “Dude, I’m not doing science,” he replied. “I’m just cheating the game!

— http://infovore.org/talks/if-gamers-ran-the-world/

Nov 02 2008 ∞

Get Up and Go

Oct 29 2008 ∞

Affairs of the Wind

Not satisfied with this yet, but satisfied enough

We’ve had great times, you and I
And — no — they really were wonderful
And — no — it’s not you
It’s definitely me

I’m sorry. But I’m leaving you for the wind.

She knows my needs
And now I can hardly breathe without her
One day we just collided, we two
I was pushed back a bit and grinned
But I think now I must have really fallen

It wasn’t a month later we met again.
On a boat in the Mediterranean
She just nudged the sail as I dreamt
Rocking gently under the stars
And I knew she’d carry me to the shore

So she’s not perfect — maybe
It’s been said that she gets around — maybe
You saw her once in Japan?
What can I say? She’s cosmopolitan

Still, I’m leaving you for the wind.

I never meant the infidelity
I really thought we would last
But since then I’ve been gliding
Sailing, skiing, to Chicago and a wind-tunnel
Even bought a model plane

I lindy hop for Lindbergh
While the Wright Brothers inspire
Don Quixote disgusts me
But he and I know the futility
Of fighting against my girl

Don’t get angry — please.
I just want to go without any lies
Don’t say those words — please.
It’s beyond my control

I’m going soon; I’m leaving you for the wind

Every time I said you took my breath away
Let’s just say, you might guess where it went

+ ∞

A Poem in Emoticons

Oct 02 2008 ∞

Love Song

Separated by skin tone
We practice our footwork
I right, she left: we miss
By the warmth of human breath

Two bodies not quite alone
Tumbling around vibrating roots
From the whirling night and technicolor light
Of some sprawling neon tree

Our past lives behind us grown
Like ballet caught by low-speed film
A twirled cartography extending from routine
Us tracing fleurons with footfalls

But no distance of off-white stone
Pales the connection’s felicity
Then, one day —
We’ll touch electricity.