Monday, May 19, 2014

Filler.



It's been a little bit since the last time I tuned in. Same shit, different toilet paper. However!! I AM very much looking forward to my visit back home. One week. No work. All rest and play. I can't wait to see all my family and friends. Then of course, do what we do best... party our faces off. 

Upon my return to sunny, hotter than hell itself, California, I intend to hit the job circuit harder than I've ever hit it before. Because, honestly, this can't be life. Crap pay at some Dental Lab? No, no, nooo. I think not. 

Very interested in seeing what the future holds for yours truly. Welp, time to roll the dice.





Friday, March 28, 2014

20Something


I've recently celebrated my very last 20-something birthday. I realize most people make bigger deals for their 21st and their 30th and so on. But I've always been a stickler for the ends of things. Because, and this has been said many times, when things end, you usually think about the beginning. That's the beauty of it for me. Ten years ago I had a huge Berfday bash when I turned 19...


It marked the end of my teenage years and the beginning of a new journey. I'd never have or celebrate another teenage birthday in this lifetime. It was something sad and beautiful.

Much like now. 



I'll never have another 20-something birthday for as long as I live in this current existence. So here I am. Almost 30 and still swimming in the pool of limbo. So many changes life has brought to my doorstep. Some are very nice packages, wrapped beautifully and the contents are even more amazing. And others, well, they can't all be winners with giant bows of satin. The way I look at it, as long as I keep those smiles genuinely on my face, I'll know I am/was having fun. 

Because that's all that really ever mattered right? Happiness? I believe so. 



Party on, Wayne.

Friday, January 10, 2014

Bard, The Jester

Had some words knocking around in my head. So I put them down on this keyboard. For you all to see:


Bard, The Jester - 'tis I.

Long way down, what do I have to show?
Rusted crown, with a king that doesn't sow.
Wet eyes see, the near future to be dark.
What's inside of me has to establish a stone heart.
On and on I go, slipping through the cut.
And what do I have to show?
A silenced word and a fat gut.

Trying too hard, or maybe not enough.
Knowing I'm a bard, yet feeling like a scruff.
Disreputable lady, only gotten by her kind.
Where the grass is green and shady.
Where she'll leave all of this behind.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Yeats

The Heart of The Woman



















O WHAT to me the little room 
That was brimmed up with prayer and rest; 
He bade me out into the gloom, 
And my breast lies upon his breast. 
  
O what to me my mother’s care,         5
The house where I was safe and warm; 
The shadowy blossom of my hair 
Will hide us from the bitter storm. 
  
O hiding hair and dewy eyes, 
I am no more with life and death,  10
My heart upon his warm heart lies, 
My breath is mixed into his breath.
















Thursday, June 13, 2013

I've discovered "The Laughing Philosopher"

Mr. Thomas Love Peacock, ladies and gentlemen!

 

Farewell to Matilda

By Thomas Love Peacock
              Oui, pour jamais
              Chassons l’image
              De la volage
              Que j’adorais.              PARNY.

Matilda, farewell! Fate has doom’d us to part,
But the prospect occasions no pang to my heart;
No longer is love with my reason at strife,
Though once thou wert dearer, far dearer than life.
 
As together we roam’d, I the passion confess’d,
Which thy beauty and virtue had rais’d in my breast;
That the passion was mutual thou mad’st me believe,
And I thought my Matilda could never deceive.
 
My Matilda! no, false one! my claims I resign:
Thou canst not, thou must not, thou shalt not be mine:
I now scorn thee as much as I lov’d thee before,
Nor sigh when I think I shall meet thee no more.
 
Though fair be thy form, thou no lovers wilt find,
While folly and falsehood inhabit thy mind,
Though coxcombs may flatter, though ideots may prize,
Thou art shunn’d by the good, and contemn’d by the wise.
 
Than mine what affection more fervent could be,
When I thought ev’ry virtue was center’d in thee?
Of the vows thou hast broken I will not complain,
For I mourn not the loss of a heart I disdain.
 
Oh! hadst thou but constant and amiable prov’d
As that fancied perfection I formerly lov’d,
Nor absence, nor time, though supreme their controul,
Could have dimm’d the dear image then stamp’d on my soul.
 
How bright were the pictures, untinted with shade,
By Hope’s glowing pencil on Fancy pourtray’d!
Sweet visions of bliss! which I could not retain;
For they, like thyself, were deceitful and vain.
 
Some other, perhaps, to Matilda is dear,
Some other, more pleasing, though not more sincere;
May he fix thy light passions, now wav’ring as air,
Then leave thee, inconstant, to shame and despair!
 
Repent not, Matilda, return not to me:
Unavailing thy grief, thy repentance will be:
In vain will thy vows or thy smiles be resum’d,
For love, once extinguish’d, is never relum’d.
 
 

Maria’s Return

By Thomas Love Peacock
          The whit’ning ground
          In frost is bound;
   The snow is swiftly falling;
While coldly blows the northern breeze,
And whistles through the leafless trees,
   In hollow sounds appalling.
 
          On this cold plain,
          Now reach’d with pain,
   Once stood my father’s dwelling:
Where smiling pleasure once was found,
Now desolation frowns around,
   And wintry blasts are yelling.
 
          Hope’s visions wild
          My thoughts beguil’d,
   My earliest days delighting,
Till unsuspected treach’ry came,
Beneath affection’s specious name,
   The lovely prospect blighting.
 
          With many a wile
          Of blackest guile
   Did Henry first deceive me:
What winning words to him were giv’n!
He swore, by all the pow’rs of Heav’n,
   That he would never leave me.
 
          With fondest truth
          I lov’d the youth:
   My soul, to guilt a stranger,
Knew not, in those too simple hours,
That oft beneath the sweetest flow’rs
   Is couch’d the deadliest danger.
 
          With him to roam
          I fled my home;
   I burst the bonds of duty;
I thought my days in joy would roll;
But Henry hid a demon’s soul
   Beneath an angel’s beauty!
 
          Shall this poor heart
          E’er cease to smart?
   Oh never! never! never!
Did av’rice whisper thee, or pride,
False Henry! for a wealthier bride
   To cast me off for ever?
 
          My sire was poor:
          No golden store
   Had he, no earthly treasure:
I only could his griefs assuage,
The only pillar of his age,
   His only source of pleasure.
 
          With anguish wild,
          He miss’d his child,
   And long in vain he sought her:
The fiercest thunder-bolts of heav’n
Shall on thy guilty head be driv’n,
   Thou Disobedient Daughter!
 
          I feel his fears,
          I see his tears,
   I hear his groans of sadness:
My cruel falsehood seal’d his doom:
He seems to curse me from the tomb,
   And fire my brain to madness!
 
          Oh! keenly blow,
          While drifts the snow,
   The cold nocturnal breezes;
On me the gath’ring snow-flakes rest,
And colder grows my friendless breast;
   My very heart-blood freezes!
 
          ‘Tis midnight deep,
          And thousands sleep,
   Unknown to guilt and sorrow;
They think not of a wretch like me,
Who cannot, dare not, hope to see
   The rising light to-morrow!
 
          An outcast hurl’d
          From all the world,
   Whom none would love or cherish,
What now remains to end my woes,
But here, amid the deep’ning snows,
   To lay me down and perish?
 
          Death’s icy dart
          Invades my heart:
   Just Heav’n! all-good! all-seeing!
Thy matchless mercy I implore,
When I must wake, to sleep no more,
   In realms of endless being!
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Sunday, June 2, 2013

Limbo w/ Mr. Gillespie

When is it ever enough? When does it just stop and become enough for you? When everything suffices and you keep living your semi charmed life.. I frankly think that people don't ever want things to be good enough. The misguided ones at least. Because if things were just content and there wasn't anything else you yearned for, what would you do with your time?

heh.

Such a twisted little way of thinking.

Of course if you didn't yearn for anything else, you could fill that time with appreciating and enjoying the very thing(s) that you fought so hard to get. The thing you yearned so long for. But no. You focus on what you don't have and what you can't get. Yet again! Funny thing, the brain is.. very funny thing.

I wonder if Dizzy Gillespie ever felt such an emotion. And if so, what advice would he give to me now.


Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Invictus

 Out of the night that covers me,
      Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
      I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
      Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
      How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
      I am the captain of my soul. 
 

                                     --William Ernest Henley