| 2/22/2006 05:54:00 PM |
[ practice makes prefect? ]
Everything happened in order, despite claims to the contrary. The laws and flaws of the physical world weren't broken or even bent. Of course, I didn't really have much say in the matter. Laws refuse to be refused and flaws will wheedle themselves in just about anywhere. More than chronology, I guess, it was always a matter of simultaneity when it came to the Maniac. If the right people were there at the same time, if the radio was spitting out just the right song, if the fog was licking the windows just the right way, and - there's no getting around it - especially if it was Sunday, then things would start to happen. The LoveStruck Maniac could be anything you wanted it to be.
Professor Mussa used to say, "there's no such thing as simultaneity." He'd slam his hand on the table to wake you up. "By the time the signal for 'table' gets to your brain, the event itself is long gone. 'When' this thing occurs in your brain is completely different from the physical 'when' and everybody else's 'when' for that matter." ...
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In other news: I had two grad school interviews, and got acceptered at both! Just talking to those people, the profs and grad students, sorta changed the way I look at myself, though. I don't really mind those changes, which is to say, the ego-trip, but trying to decide where to go is confusing the hell out of me. There's still so much to do this semester. |
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| 2/06/2006 04:33:00 PM |
[ abrcdbra ]
So. I ended up sending in the fall-ooing blurb for Lit Mag:
Ian S is a Jones College senior majoring in physics. He wants to be a neuroscientist-poet-rockstar-chef when he grows up, and he thinks everyone should say 'abracadabra' at least twice daily.
I think... it's a pretty accurate. It doesn't quite capture the facto that I'm madly in love with a girl or the struggly something of existentialism, but it is no lie. And despite seeming silly or immature or naive it has something of my vibe in it (averaged for mood-swings of course)...! |
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| 2/02/2006 03:10:00 AM |
[ heynow, heynow ]
I live pretty close to the Rice baseball stadium. Sometimes... when there's a game going on and my window's open... I feel like people are cheering for me. |
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| 2/02/2006 01:40:00 AM |
[ Realife. To be taken twice a day after meals. ]
I found out today that a poem of mine was accepted by UBlue (the Rice Lit Mag). For some reason it's hard for me to wrap my mind around that idea. Despite all my wackiness and word-play, I'm not really, actually, truly a poet. I'm not at all used to the idea of other people reading what I write. When I write I'm just playing around, usually -- with ideas, with what I'm feeling.
The me who writes here, the witch-doctor-monkey-king-dream-deranged kiddo, is not really like the me of realife. The realifeme has more faults than a plate-tectonics textbook. The realife me couldn't read that poem aloud to save his life. Somehow... poetry = female-ness for realifeme, and I'm too damn skinny-tall-beardless-quiet-big-nose-odd-shaped-head to pull it off like a young Neruda or Tagore or Rumi would. I smile too much and don't smoke enough for that.
I guess, it's ultimately all about confidence. The me who writes here knows who he is. The me who shakes hands and goes to class and out to eat and tries to explain figure 2b at journal club doesn't know shit about himself. Or worse maybe, he knows - I know! - but is afraid that people will reject him. It's not exactly like that, but enough psychology!
The main dilemma is that I have to write a "blurb". Something like...
Ian S is a senior physics major at Jones College. As a 20-something heterosexual male in an advanced capitalist society, he has some issues with poetry writing being taken as a sign of weakness. To try to counteract any ideas along that line, the author would like to note that he also likes NASCAR, red meat, cheerleaders, guitar (electric), beer (american), action movies, and nachos.
Well... something like that. Less lying would probably be good. Ideas internet? |
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