Faith won't meet your expectations, its time is measured differently.

My thoughts
shift back today, of years recent past,
All I knew, these experiences surpass
I am a misplaced gem today,
wasting from the wind of such frivolous thought
A cold wind of which yesterday brought
For certain,
nothing now can dull tomorrows shine
for I am blessed, my giver is time
knowing that everyday fades to disappear,
That even dreams disappear here
Is not enough for me to draw sorrow near
Only for a moment,
even days gone by-deserve the very least,
I'll bow my head to mourn the defeat of the beast
You have an answer that you're too afraid to say
or the lack of an answer could be the only card you've left to play
& yet I understand now how you see it better to go the easier way
but still I've only one question, I'll never know,
for you my wound, (my story left untold)
Dig up a memory worth no more than the thought it holds
warm than cold, young than old,
How is it that love should only come into the world-
A poison, a cure?
My gingerbread man
Only part of an excuse
Which makes it fairly simple to pronouce adieux
Early ethereal voices
Too soft to hear
Coerced with whisper to let go of fear
They gave me money, a monthly dole
Undisciplined problems
But my pockets had holes
I held tight and saw different sides
Of my own truth
Break away from anything I knew
Life took my comfort
I cursed its chill
And walked what felt only uphill
And from the ever touch of a moments sun
Spiraling towards clarity
Had all begun
And I could feel each enigmatic breath
In all I had still to do ahead
I washed myself clean with tears I once shed
beat from me
life took my eyes
so it could then offer me strength to see
for now I look back on any impervious pain
and know it was necessary
for all my soul has gained
I must admit it took an ear tug strong
To finally hear the saving, sirens song

Fuck me if I am wrong, but you want to make out with me?

Sorry about the subject line title. I have a very good friend "Frank", who uses this line all the time and each time I laugh. Frank shared a 2 year relationship with a beautiful and intelligent Goth chick named "Kila", who wore a garter belt every day of her life; rec'd her Ph.D. in Mathematics and broke up with him on their Roman holiday. While I do not know her, she fascinates me, primarily because math has always been my weakness the arithmetical intellect of his ex seems a distance between each plate of an analytical balance where each of us is characterized in this active imagination of mine as one of the two plates with my dear friend, (whom I offer this sort of flattery simply for creative purposes) is the fulcrum in the middle of this scale. Comparison is a funny tool some humans use to grow or cower. She is also friends with my brother and has openly expressed her curiosity about me. One day I'm sure we will meet and find some semblance bridging the gap of curiosity because it is when we feel relative that we are at ease because the underlying fact of mystery lay in what we do not know or do not completely understand. Anyway, she is a math genius apparently and I will not and could not fake this one, I am horrible at math. When I hear the word "M-A-T-H" my mind immediately runs to safe ground and remains hidden until those pesky numeric demons evaporate.
Recently though, I've been given suggested reading material for an upcoming work assignment. It is necessary reading for understanding weather streams.

"Chaos and Weather Prediction", which was written by James Yorke, Distinguished University Professor of Mathematics and Physics at the Institute for Physical Sciences and Technology (IPST), University of Maryland, in collaboration with:
Chris Danforth (Ph.D. 2006),
John Harlim (Ph.D. 2006),
Brian Hunt,
Eugenia Kalnay,
Eric Kostelich (Prof. at Arizona State U. visiting UMD),
Ed Ott, Istvan Szunyogh,
Aleksey Zimin (Ph.D. UMD 2004)

It basically states, all prediction is extrapolation. Our primary goal is to develop algorithms for finding the global initial conditions for weather prediction. We are using nonlinear dynamics (or chaos) theory to develop better weather initialization algorithms for use with high performance computing. The project is based on the idea that the weather - at least as exhibited by weather models - is not terribly chaotic. We develop techniques for understanding existing, whole-earth weather models using ensembles of solutions, collections of solutions with slightly different initial conditions. Now I don't fully grasp it all yet, thats because I am only 71% nerdatron, 7% deriving from using the word nerdatron in real life.

This is something I am reading up on and because I have to but because of this suggestion I have stumbled upon other subjects researched by Prof. Yorke. He has supervised approximately 40 Ph.D. dissertations & has been credited in over 300 publications. This man has written so much on a variety of subjects.
Projects which currently include:
Better methods for determining the genetic sequence of large genomes,
Nonlinear dynamics of computer networks (Internet TCP)
Modeling the population dynamics of HIV, or "Why the US Gay HIV Epidemic Exploded Years before the Sub-Saharan Epidemic"
A Mathematical theory of observation,
Topological Horseshoes and other topological phenomena
Explosions of chaotic sets as a parameter is

He is known as Dr. Chaos! Yes, credited for coming up with the chaos theory, or more popularly known because of the 2004 movie "Butterfly Effect". Now if you know me you can see why I find this so exciting. I see life as one huge puzzle; we try to see where the next one fits, where the simplest moments can shift where we are headed into an entirely new direction. I try not to speak in definite terms because of this; I feel it limits our path in life and the direction it can take.
I remember years ago reading of Carl Jung. I had to find out everything I could because I was so impressed. I found validity in what I felt. Shortly after, I read "A Peoples History of the United States" by Howard Zinn. I retained that information with every ounce of my being and shared my one copy with anyone who was willing to read it. These people helped shape who I am, their thoughts and ideas are now part of my own views.
I have a feeling this is what is happening now with James Yorke. I cannot get enough. It is exciting and attainable and I am not cringing every time he writes about math instead I am eating up what I can understand and attempting to figure out what I don't.
This man is a genius who has credited as developing "a map satisfying property 2" and is quoted as saying, "The most successful people are those who are good at plan B." I smile and wonder if this is how "Frank" my friend referenced in the beginning of all of this first came to say, "Now, f*** me if I am wrong, but you want to make out," securing plan A with plan B vise versa. Oh that crazy Frank. I know it is wishful thinking but in my fairytale world the day I meet Kila, Franks' ex, we'll have something to talk about besides Frank.

I had my heart broken, once.

Today I went with Sarah and Amber and watched the movie, Fur: An Imaginary Portrait of Diane Arbus . Came home made a drink I am sure it contained Malibu Rum. I started cleaning out my garage, as if cleaning my garage is going to help me make the decisions I need to. I listened to the radio and listened to all the cheesy love songs that came across and ate up every word, nostalgic now in thought. Every word that came across, every ounce of longing, loss and fond reminiscing took me to the ground and left me feeling naked. It was just that sort of day and so I know the impact of you and what is not just happened to hit me like that. So much stuff, none yours but such semblance they hold to that fact that I carry things around with me far too long. In my piles of things I have a beautiful easel and in my dramatic haze I do not feel like painting anymore and it just seems the sort of thing that would be difficult to get rid of if I had to just up and leave. I want to give it to you, I hope you'll take it. I went outside I laid in the grass, I let the sun melt into me and I remembered because it is just something I am good at, only things come through me and out of me slightly different as if put into some fairytale filter before re-entering the world, so forgive me. Everything that happened after us is a different story but it was the sort of day where I remembered before the after. I know it is hard for some people to understand so if you are some people please read on with your own made up characters. As this really is a culmination of a past and different pictures of love. With that easel, I remember you coming and sitting with me while I painted, I was off in my world, on the verge of tears, knowing I wouldn't loose myself because even if we weren't talking I felt you sitting there protecting me. I really believed when you told me you were there for me so much so that I maybe didn't see I was taking too much and building you up too high. I didn't see, I just thought…I thought for certain I knew. All my stuff never seemed to bother you. Or at least you never said so. I've memorized your voice as you told me I was like your father, your mother, that you loved me in all ways. I can honestly say that you touched every single chord in me and I ended up sounding like a silly little love song. I have the softest thoughts of you, always so dream-like and surreal they beg to be overlooked they usually throw forth how quickly you've disappeared and all that has come to light. They present reality, all the while, I am kicking and screaming defending what was real to me even if what was real was only something I felt, it was to me that most real thing I had ever felt. How I long to have someone come and try to knock me down now, just for the fight in me, the need to scream bull-shit! Inside, the vigor and chaos, to find some innocence in me today, seem idiotic. I would break the poor sap, I would make sure that I was not making their intention up. I know I want no one now, I know because it is not in me to wear defenses so obviously. I instead give people the benefit of the doubt so I know right now I need only myself but like I said it was the sort of day for these sort of feelings, so I just happened to be feeling the way I was. With us there was no grand parade, no decorated list of events to attend but there were so many small moments that are bigger than anything that came before. One day we lay in bed, looked out my bedroom window, watched the day turn to night. We took the cushions off the couch made hot chocolate and watch movies and talked about nothing about everything. I really needed you right then and you really needed me right then, that time was ours. In this entire world we had some moment reserved solely for us. It was one of the best times in my life. I am not mourning the loss of it. I really don't even know how it happened and maybe one day it will all be forgotten, all I am doing is remembering in a good light how much you once meant to me. I suppose to anyone else reading this they would imagine as I write this I wear a wounded mask, over saturated in make-believe, well that may just be the case but today is just one of those days that the past sneaks in a leaves you with a slight smile. Of course, I could find someone else to share dinner with and someone else to daydream about I am sure, but will I feel so openly for them, shield them the way I did you? Laying on you it just felt like love to me, there isn't another way to explain it, there are no words with heavy enough weight. Something in the air, in my soul felt that nothing else mattered. I thought of how you came into my life as a surpise and our funny coincidences and detailed conversations, as I learned from you I fell in love with you, as I fell I wanted to learn more. You have a smile, a secret smile, as innocent and good as a child, that is the smile I loved the most and it always seemed to only come through when it was the two of us alone. I thought of how my fingertips felt drawing the invisible story of us over you chest, I thought of how when you slept I would say little prayers for you and kiss you so quietly so not to wake you but you would pull me close it was as if you pulled the energy from me and into you and I could just sleep there surrendered to it. And while resting somewhere in the crevice between your arm and ribs I could feel the warmth in my heart cover the two of us.

I ask myself what of all of this will matter? I know I am okay with it all because I could so freely express this now without longing. I keep it safe in the past. The memory is a muse best kept in the distance. I don't have a plan of attack, to return to where I struggled to leave but I guess it was just that sort of day, and I think it is okay to think of an experience gone not as a loss but as a gift, because that is all our time with another is, it is a gift.

rough spots

It is dust, dry-goodbye that has kept me alive and now I’m closer to the earth than when my head was in the clouds and now I’m not aloud -not aloud back into who I was. Once.

Now its time to watch my feet step right/left/right and get up out of the dunces chair watch my lungs inhale in/out I steal the air.

I was always taught not to take up too much room.

Depression leaves everyone; eventually…it left me with a personality crisis.

I was once a better friend. A better lover. So much more together. Falling apart, a Los Angeles mudslide, above me was worse I know.

I have defended you many times. In all the “fuck the world” proclamations I have again and again said “oh, c’mon now yes, there are shit-heads but shit-heads are going through shit too.”

A few years ago you stole my identity until. Later you stole my car. You sold death to a friend and stole her to.

Don’t worry, I’m over it.

bill and the electric girl.

When we first met
he introduced himself,
“bill”, he said
(with a “sort-of” smile)

just like that,
no capital letter at the start of his name
only a dry
mechanical
lower case “b”

I joked, “Ohhhh, you sound expensive”

he tilted his head and kind of moved his eyes

so I said, “bill, as in check, get it?”
and then I said,
“forget it, it was a cheesy joke”

it took a whole minute then he laughed

he reminded me of a robot with rusting wires
talk-king
walk-king
move-ving
not really alive

I told him once, you smile like a robot
in fact the only time
I’d see him come alive
Is when he was about to plug into some
electric girl.