Falling Into Autumn

I had forgotten how beautiful the rain was.

I hadn't remembered the magic of water, pelting down from the sky, sprinkling your hair and reminding your skin that it's alive.

I had forgotten, as so many have, the wonder of accepting the fact you're going to get wet, of the release of knowing your clothes will be damp, but they'll dry out, and in the meantime you can enjoy the drops that smell so sweetly of life.

It is such fun looking up into the sky, feeling the rain on your face... such fun in the simple pleasure of knowing there is something here to enjoy, of holding your head high and walking through the downpour, when so many people scurry past, heads down, ducking from cover to cover or hiding beneath giant umbrellas, never meeting your eye, trying to escape.

There is something to learn from this, I think.

Take your time, in life, in love. If you forget your rain jacket or umbrella, accept it for the opportunity it is - the opportunity to experience something that so many people never do. Greet every moment as the chance to look around, to find something to look at, something to become interested in, rather than treating life as something that must continually amuse you.

"The cure for boredom is curiosity; and there is no cure for curiosity." (- Ellen Parr)

Live each day seeking, rather than waiting, for the things that interest you, that excite you, that bring you joy. Life is too short to wait for living to happen.

Odes and the Weather

So the weather has finally reflected the turning towards the autumnal equinox - and the very first day post-fair, too, which shows a little more taste than is usually seen on behalf of the usual Pacific Northwestern weather.

Unfortunately, that also meant that this morning I had to clothe myself in not only sweats-and-tee-shirt garb, but also don my fleece bathrobe... neither of which has made me particularly happy. So unhappy, in fact, that I deemed it appropriate to compose a poem, an ode to Summer - and had the indecency to attempt to make it rhyme as well; please forgive me. At least it is not a long poem.

Ode to Summer

O where is the fine heat of Summer?
The warmth of bright sunshine, hot on the skin,
Burning, to match the fires within.
O where is the sunshine of Summer?

O where are the blue skies of Summer?
Crystalline skies, cloudless and bright,
To make the earth seem so close to the light:
O, bring back the bright days of Summer!

O where are the soft smells of Summer?
Of quiet and shade, where breezes can play,
And flowers bloom, away from the heat of the day -
O, where are the soft places of Summer?

O where are the brisk sounds of Summer?
Of rivers and brooks, of swift-flowing streams,
Of dragonflies' flight through sunshiny beams,
O, where are the lazy energies of Summer?

O, speed the return of distant days of Summer,
That again may flow the golden heat
And that every morning we can greet
The sun, in those lovely warm days of Summer.

Hopefully by now you're not thoroughly tired of the rhyming and of the repetition of the capitalized "Summer". Though, it must be admitted, if I am sick of Washington's infamous ill-weathered winters inside a single day, I am not going to last very long this season.

Fortunately I have my sewing, crocheting, and tea to fall back on.

James Cameron's AVATAR

Okay. Preface this by saying, first of all, that I am incredibly excited about Shyamalan's Avatar: The Last Airbender.

However, that isn't going to be in 3D.

And James Cameron makes EPIC films. CONSISTENTLY.

WITH THAT NOTE, I have just been looking up his new film, the trailer of which was just released by Apple today.

Oddly, the IMDb page was far less informative concerning this film than it usually is, so I was forced to search the internet for other sources.

Official movie websites include the Fox website, and there is also an official Avatar Twitter page, but, again, neither tells much about the film or storyline, though one hopes that will change closer to the release date.

However once you get away from the official websites, you find a great article done by a UK film and review site Empire which, awesomely enough, breaks down the trailer scene-by-scene and tells you quite a bit about the storyline.

Upon further research, the Telegraph featured a short blurb about it a few days ago, and Slashfilm did a lovely article/expose on Monday summarizing the current knowledge about the film's storyline, which is the longer version of the trailer breakdown as well as the partial insights of the author (and hints of huge storyline sequels and developments to come even post-release).

Besides these scant sources, however, the remainder of the Internet is filled with conjecture and rumours. This project, while years in the making, has apparently still succeeded in staying very much hushed. It's fascinatingly mysterious, and the trailer does indeed look epic - I've already watched it a dozen times - and the 3D aspect makes the treat all the more tantalizing. This is the first film in a long time I'm excited enough about to not want to wait the few months until it's released in theatres.

Fallen

No posts = busy quarter. Shrug. How it goes.

Fallen
by mikropikol

tul . ardour . coolcapitals . prostitution

White Rabbits

So. Went for a nice bike ride over to the park, met up with a friend of mine, and then went from there to another park across the way... except, en route, I did a little bike stumble and managed to gash my finger really nicely (and skin my other knuckles as well).

Long story short, ended up having to get picked up by my dad, go home, and F***ING SCRUB AT MY GAPING WOUND with a BRISTLE BRUSH to get all the dirt and stuff out. (BTW yes, that REALLY HURTS. I don't recommend it.)

Even now we're not sure if it's really clean. Hopefully it doesn't get infected or anything.

And, because it was after 6 on a Sunday, naturally, there were no medical places open. So yeah. Fun stuff.

In other news, I love the White Rabbits.

Bus Adventures

A woman sits there, not far from me
Her face blotched, her body bloated.
Her piglike eyes look at me, unseeing,
a permanent sneer twisting fat purple lips
in an impartial grimace.
Her hair sprouts from her head, dirty dishwater brown
with scattered bits of gravel grey.
Threads are strewn
about the frame of her expression, and,
at the back,
all individual strands are lost
in a thick, matted clump;
a gourd of hair, whose tip
falls just below her neck.
It seems a cancerous
untended growth,
bloated with years of neglect
textured by an eternity of dirt
and the grime that clings to her clothes
like moss to a dead tree.

Twinkle, Twinkle

Wrote this for my poetry class last quarter, back in October. Not sure why I didn't post it then... ah, well.

The assignment was to take a nursery rhyme and make a poem out of it. I rather like how it turned out, to be honest.

Twinkle, twinkle,
the tiny stars in your eyes!
A glint of light, captured
when you look at me...
How I wonder about the light!
What could you possibly see
in my face
that could make your eyes
twinkle so, like tiny stars
under your fair brow?
You, darling, are above the world –
born to privilege, to high places.
What am I to you,
that stars alight
within your gaze
when you consider me?
You are my life,
the finest jewel in my night.
And yet how your eyes sparkle!
Such stars... reserved, for me?
Twinkle, twinkle, little stars...
how I wonder that you are!

Admittedly Not Good

This has practically been my mantra lately. Hint: Not a good thing.

Anyone can do any amount of work provided it isn't the work he is supposed to be doing at the moment.
-- Robert Benchley

En Ti Vive

I finally have something to write.

I was reading Pablo Neruda, and wanted to write something in Spanish.

It translates rather prettily, I guess, but I have no idea what it actually sounds like in the language I composed it in. Whether or not it flows.

Here. You can have it.

En Ti Vive

en ti, viven los nombres de doscientas mañanas,
y en ti vive la esperanza de los padres.
en ti, vive el sol de cien días de verano,
y en ti vive la luna de cien noches negras.

eres el orgullo de las estrellas,
y la boca de palabras infinitas y silenciosas.
tu aliento es de las brisas del mundo,
y tu lengua toca los labios del viento.

¿quién dice que tu vida no tiene significado?
¿quién dice cual persona es más importante?

todos tocan el mismo viento,
y sus almas cantan la misma canción.
ni te desesperes, ni te quites la esperanza,
porque eres precioso a mí.

And for all those English speakers who are like "Whoa, dude, wtf?!", here's a rough translation:

In You, Live

In you live the names of two hundred tomorrows,
and in you live the hope of fathers.
In you lives the sun of hundred days of summer,
and in you lives the moon of hundred black nights.

You are the pride of the stars,
and the mouth for silent and infinite words.
Your breath is of the breezes of the world,
and your tongue touches the lips of the wind.

Who says your life has no importance?
Who says which person is the greatest?

All touch of the same wind,
and their souls sing the same song.
Do not despair, and do not give up hope,
because you are precious to me.

Shake the Dust

I haven't written for a while, and still can't.

Have this instead.


Quote from a friend:
"you know, theres a time for words and then, then theres a time for sitting back and asking yourself... wtf". - Tracy

Shockingly apt statement, I'd say.

Well, Isn't That Just Peachy?

This made me laugh entirely too much.