every year for christmas we play bingo. winners test fate by scratching lottery tickets. it's a lot of fun. this year we somehow went into an impromptu singing session revolving around the bingo slots called...
straight singing
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
salty goodness falls from your eyes, i'm envious
i can't remember the last time i cried
which is weird because i identify with people and the human condition
generally, all around, i'm an empathatic dude
so then, why am i incapable of tears?
the moments come when you least expect it
you feel it coming
sneaking up
grabbing a hold of your face
contorting it
squeezing it at the eyes
on the verge of an orgasm
or like, about to sneeze
and just as that tensions builds up
it is released
and you sob and you cry and you feel so good afterwards
but i can't make it over the hump
i can't let it out
i want to let it out
scream and cry
in a hot destroyed mess
showering my face, my body, the earth
in a salty river
fuck i want to cry so bad
sometimes when cheesy commercials or things crafted to elicit an emotional response come on i think
"this is fucking stupid"
but then other times in the middle of a joyous moment in a movie
i'll feel the twinge, the pulling on my cheeks, the tenseness in my face
to see humanity in an unrealistic moment of goodness
acts of human goodness make me want to cry
but still, i can't cry
i want to cry
which is weird because i identify with people and the human condition
generally, all around, i'm an empathatic dude
so then, why am i incapable of tears?
the moments come when you least expect it
you feel it coming
sneaking up
grabbing a hold of your face
contorting it
squeezing it at the eyes
on the verge of an orgasm
or like, about to sneeze
and just as that tensions builds up
it is released
and you sob and you cry and you feel so good afterwards
but i can't make it over the hump
i can't let it out
i want to let it out
scream and cry
in a hot destroyed mess
showering my face, my body, the earth
in a salty river
fuck i want to cry so bad
sometimes when cheesy commercials or things crafted to elicit an emotional response come on i think
"this is fucking stupid"
but then other times in the middle of a joyous moment in a movie
i'll feel the twinge, the pulling on my cheeks, the tenseness in my face
to see humanity in an unrealistic moment of goodness
acts of human goodness make me want to cry
but still, i can't cry
i want to cry
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
a rant
arianna huffington on sleep deprivation awareness
Speaking from the perspective of a 25 year-old male, I agree that people use sleep deprivation as a bragging point quite often, especially when alcohol is involved. Men and women. A lot of times my own 'pride' is challenged, like,"come on, just come out for a few hours, I got four hours of sleep last night after getting blasted, and i worked all day today and i'm still going out." I'm not offended by it at the least, but I am aware of it when it happens.
And i've experienced it from both men and women, and they are equally malicious in their attempt to call into question my masculinity 'simply' because I would like a solid night of sleep.
I don't have a problem with Arianna using an anecdote to spread awareness about sleep deprivation. Actually, cool.
I take issue with this:
"[U]nfortunately, for men sleep deprivation has become a virility symbol."
For Arianna Huffington to turn this into a polarizing man vs woman issue is reprehensible and irresponsible. There is absolutely no correlation between sleep deprivation and men specifically. As human beings I see research supporting a person being less productive, less inspired, and less joyful with sleep deprivation but I see nothing showing that men actively seek out less sleep then lord it over women as proof of their masculinity. Why turn something into a gender battle when we are speaking of humans in general? This shouldn't have to be, and is not a gender issue.
How many women would be offended if we flipped this around and said "I have a feeling that if the Lehman Sisters were Lehman Sisters and Brothers they might still be around. While all the other sisters were busy being hyper-connected 24/7 maybe a brother would have noticed the iceberg because he would have woken up from a 7.5 or 8 hour sleep have and been able to see the big picture." [hypothetically, bare with the example].
I do regret that there were not women involved in the corporate heads of the company (or I assume there wasn't based on what Arianna is saying, if there were, then forgive my ignorance). So, what does this statement imply? She assumes that by having a woman there [at Lehman Bros.] it would necessarily follow that she was also getting enough sleep, and therefore would also have saved the company. Getting enough sleep, as she illustrated herself, is not an inherent quality of a woman! Faulty logic. It does not follow that because you are a woman, you get enough sleep. I would whistle-blow on a man making the same claims about women and accuse him of misogyny, it just isn't right!
Damn.
Forgive my rant. It is my attempt to draw some attention to the latent misandry embedded in her lecture.
Speaking from the perspective of a 25 year-old male, I agree that people use sleep deprivation as a bragging point quite often, especially when alcohol is involved. Men and women. A lot of times my own 'pride' is challenged, like,"come on, just come out for a few hours, I got four hours of sleep last night after getting blasted, and i worked all day today and i'm still going out." I'm not offended by it at the least, but I am aware of it when it happens.
And i've experienced it from both men and women, and they are equally malicious in their attempt to call into question my masculinity 'simply' because I would like a solid night of sleep.
I don't have a problem with Arianna using an anecdote to spread awareness about sleep deprivation. Actually, cool.
I take issue with this:
"[U]nfortunately, for men sleep deprivation has become a virility symbol."
For Arianna Huffington to turn this into a polarizing man vs woman issue is reprehensible and irresponsible. There is absolutely no correlation between sleep deprivation and men specifically. As human beings I see research supporting a person being less productive, less inspired, and less joyful with sleep deprivation but I see nothing showing that men actively seek out less sleep then lord it over women as proof of their masculinity. Why turn something into a gender battle when we are speaking of humans in general? This shouldn't have to be, and is not a gender issue.
How many women would be offended if we flipped this around and said "I have a feeling that if the Lehman Sisters were Lehman Sisters and Brothers they might still be around. While all the other sisters were busy being hyper-connected 24/7 maybe a brother would have noticed the iceberg because he would have woken up from a 7.5 or 8 hour sleep have and been able to see the big picture." [hypothetically, bare with the example].
I do regret that there were not women involved in the corporate heads of the company (or I assume there wasn't based on what Arianna is saying, if there were, then forgive my ignorance). So, what does this statement imply? She assumes that by having a woman there [at Lehman Bros.] it would necessarily follow that she was also getting enough sleep, and therefore would also have saved the company. Getting enough sleep, as she illustrated herself, is not an inherent quality of a woman! Faulty logic. It does not follow that because you are a woman, you get enough sleep. I would whistle-blow on a man making the same claims about women and accuse him of misogyny, it just isn't right!
Damn.
Forgive my rant. It is my attempt to draw some attention to the latent misandry embedded in her lecture.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
a scent stronger than that musk
they wear on a saturday night god it is
so intoxicating it is wafting in through the vents and the
windows that i shut so tight but it is
still coming through and oh my
god i think it is permeating my skin it is coming inside my
precious skin my skin is being assaulted it might be that it is
inside me or is it outside i am shutting the door i am running away i left
the house is it gone it is gone
oh thank
god no it is still here it is in my nose i am on the asphalt i am rolling in the ice and stones the stones
and ice and bloodiness they are cleansing me they are cleaning me and scrubbing it away it is disappearing
oh good my skin is gone it is saturday night what are you saying what what
oh
oh ya
i like that cologne too
they wear on a saturday night god it is
so intoxicating it is wafting in through the vents and the
windows that i shut so tight but it is
still coming through and oh my
god i think it is permeating my skin it is coming inside my
precious skin my skin is being assaulted it might be that it is
inside me or is it outside i am shutting the door i am running away i left
the house is it gone it is gone
oh thank
god no it is still here it is in my nose i am on the asphalt i am rolling in the ice and stones the stones
and ice and bloodiness they are cleansing me they are cleaning me and scrubbing it away it is disappearing
oh good my skin is gone it is saturday night what are you saying what what
oh
oh ya
i like that cologne too
Saturday, December 18, 2010
my mom writes poetry
My Mother's Hands
(By my Mom, Patricia Steely)
Fingers long and thin,
Unadorned,
Just a simple
Gold wedding band.
Nails tough, yet tenderly maintained:
These were my mother’s hands.
These were the hands
That rocked me with her strength,
Dressed me within her protective care,
Fed me from her sustenance,
And kneaded my imagination.
Her hands soothed and scolded,
Guided and provided,
Only to be pushed away
By my hands
And the assertion:
“I can do it by myself.”
When my hands held
My firstborn child,
I could better understand,
How the hands that hold,
Can find it hard to let go.
In time, her wrinkled hands
Pushed mine away.
I’d reach for her arm and elbow,
As she walked unsteadily,
Only to meet her resistance:
“I can do it by myself.”
Eventually, we both grasped
The firm comfort of our hands
In rhythm together:
My right hand in her left,
As my left hand supported her left elbow:
And in stride we would walk.
Until swollen and plump,
With mounds of skin swallowing
Her wedding band,
Wired and taped,
Steroided and sedated,
With tender blue, purple bruises-
Her hands lay quiet to the beat of the Ventilator.
So, her hands I held,
And I let her go.
And as she breathed
Her very last breath,
Her spirit took flight
At her physical death.
Yes, I fully understand
How the hands that hold
Can find it so terribly hard
to let go.
-Patricia T. Steely
Written: May 12, 2005
Revised: May30, 2005
Read at Mom’s funeral
Originally posted at spirit songs
musings
How does an infinitely dense universe become a vast and spacious one? And how is it filled with matter?
of the moment thought processes, musings, a small brain fart into existence:
the universe, a living thing, as a human grows from a fertilized egg.
hierarchies are real illusions (paradox?). we are all of the universe.
time/perception is relative to size.
'our' time is subjective to 'our' existence
planetary time is subjective to a planet's existence
universal time, to the universe
a cell, to the cell's existence
an ant, an elephant, etc.
the universe is an active living thing, expanding as it grows
of the moment thought processes, musings, a small brain fart into existence:
the universe, a living thing, as a human grows from a fertilized egg.
hierarchies are real illusions (paradox?). we are all of the universe.
time/perception is relative to size.
'our' time is subjective to 'our' existence
planetary time is subjective to a planet's existence
universal time, to the universe
a cell, to the cell's existence
an ant, an elephant, etc.
the universe is an active living thing, expanding as it grows
Friday, November 26, 2010
experiment in sound
last year around december 23rd ish the steely children got together with their favorite people, the evans children. it resulted in many fun things unrecorded and undocumented. after a few bottles of shared wine and some other libations this appeared on someone's iphone...
bleep bleeps n blahs
bleep bleeps n blahs
Monday, November 22, 2010
swaying with the crowd, alone i dreamt
for all that it isn't
it's everything i need
for every moment that passes too quickly,
there's still eternity.
sitting on the steps
eyes closed
tripping
over thoughts that come back
around to the same worn path.
the gate is open.
it's a straight path
through beautiful country -
vibrant tall grass padded down
by gentle plodding of adventurous children
they run by consumed with wonder,
imaginations running wild.
clean blue sky, occasional billowing clouds,
the entire scene lain over with a golden aura.
no houses in sight save one
laughter, happiness
pervade every detail
standing up and swaying gently
why does everyone seem to stare so coldly?
the gate, closed.
drifting images,
blackness closes in,
the smell of lavender,
your face,
then,
nothing.
it's everything i need
for every moment that passes too quickly,
there's still eternity.
sitting on the steps
eyes closed
tripping
over thoughts that come back
around to the same worn path.
the gate is open.
it's a straight path
through beautiful country -
vibrant tall grass padded down
by gentle plodding of adventurous children
they run by consumed with wonder,
imaginations running wild.
clean blue sky, occasional billowing clouds,
the entire scene lain over with a golden aura.
no houses in sight save one
laughter, happiness
pervade every detail
standing up and swaying gently
why does everyone seem to stare so coldly?
the gate, closed.
drifting images,
blackness closes in,
the smell of lavender,
your face,
then,
nothing.
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