Seventeen syllables, No. 27

Night shrouds powerless
Buyers of meat, cans, fruits, time--
A phone flips on. Light.

Seventeen syllables, No. 26

I can see where the
Car went airborne from where the
Railings were crumpled.

Who really knows what goes on in the mind of a monkey

Truer words have yet to be said this week. ^_^

My classes and work are in full swing, with their usual difficulties and dramas that I have become accustomed to over the semesters. I finally feel like I have a definite schedule, though the time I leave the house is still largely dictated by my brother. I also notice that I am halfway through my Summer haiku, well in advance of my deadline (21 September). The thought that I will soon be busy with some of my other projects excites me a little bit.

Never thought that a straw-type hat would be branded as gang-related. ^_^ But we shall see how I manage.

And I finished the card. I hope it says what I want it to say.

Looking around at my room at this point in time, I get the distinct impression that it is time for moving on has come, and that I have been making big strides in that regard since this Summer. There are things in my room (like unopened wine bottles, a naked Rubik's Cube, and stacks of paper everywhere) that are now older than my current attention to them--had a few of these things were to be irrevocably lost, I would look for them for a few days, but then give up and feel blessed for a tidier room. I'm looking at a pink folder that contains bank statements from 2002 onwards, and I know that there are some more in one of my drawers. Why do I keep them around? Will I ever get around to matching them against the mountain of receipts going back to that time in the red shoebox in the other corner?

There's another thing I know is in my room, but right now its view is hidden by the very high ledge it is sitting on. It's a small "world clock" with two independent clock faces, and two other faces which used to be less independent than they are now. ^_^ I don't think there is a proper way to get rid of something like that, you know? Even if it were to turn up missing, its mere absence would remind me of the thing itself, so in the end I would accomplish nothing by disposing of it. So, even though it has ceased to function, there it is in an unseen corner of my room, collecting dust.

My teacher for the class Modern Japanese Novel (a very interesting class) said something about the philosophy called phenomenology, which claims that objects and facts are meaningless unless viewed through your experiences with that object or fact. This claim fits in with that two-faced clock. The only person I can ask about the value of that clock is myself, and in this case I say that it is worth more than to be thrown out.

Maybe a major cleaning of my room is not a bad idea. ^_^ We'll see if we can follow through with that thought.

Thanks for reading.

Song in my head: Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band, "Express Yourself".

It's the start of a new semester

...my eleventh. ^_^

In previous semesters, I've welcomed the hopeful feeling I always get when the semester starts and the Add/Drop period ends. The problem is, in the last three or four semesters I've had this feeling, my semesters actually haven't been good at all.

So this semester, I'm cautiously optimistic. I'm also going to write more. I feel like I have more outlets now than I did when I started school. And I also see a way (partially) out of the Collective. See, some people read comic books. I believe I live one! This sometimes writes itself.

Thanks for reading.

Song in my head: Elvis Presley, "Hawaiian Wedding Song".

Seventeen syllables, No. 25

The guitar sings, too,
As half-remembered verses
Mingle with our laughs.

Seventeen syllables, No. 24

If coldness were a
Cat, it would sleep on my floor
On rainy mornings.

Seventeen syllables, No. 23

The old radio sings
Like it sang last night. The words
Are in my mouth, too.

Seventeen syllables, No. 22

The first Sunbeams that
Come through the window loudly
Pierce my ears. It's warm.

Seventeen syllables, No. 21

Do you remember
The movie? The characters
Spoke Filipino.

A whole lot of nothing

Have you ever had one of those extremely unproductive days where you ended up sitting around doing absolutely nothing at all? I think that if it happens too often it would be a problem, but sometimes it's exactly what you need.

Today was one of those days. Now, while many times we only have ourselves to blame for barely unproductive days, but yesterday, things just kind of fell into place, ensuring that I would have nothing to do today. ^_^ I guess it's just as well. I spent most of my day sitting down. That I sat down in different locations around the island yesterday but was equally unable to do much of anything in any of the places just adds fuel to the flame.

Anyway. At least it produced a blog entry. ^_^

Thanks for reading.

Current weight: 213.

Song in my head: VST and Company, "Rock Baby Rock".

P.S. Oh, but on the bright side, I think that the haiku are finally starting to bite. ^_^ I bet you've noticed...

Seventeen syllables, No. 20

Warm rain falls from the
Same spot everyday when I
Turn on the shower.

Seventeen syllables, No. 19

Up there, the pillows
Bleach in the Sun. But are they
Cool underneath, too?

Seventeen syllables, No. 18

Metal behemoths
Walk in place, subjugating
All those who mount them.

Seventeen syllables, No. 17

"Hey green car, you must
Stop behind the red stop sign!"
Blue lights swim through rain.

Looks like my Spring haiku are done... now on to Summer.

My fate is sealed

A day ago I turned in the last documents required in order to become part of the Collective. I'm currently in quarter time. Or so they say. Whatever that means.

I do hope I can get to write some Summer haiku before Summer actually ends. ^_^

Thanks for reading.

Song in my head: The Thompson Twins, "Hold Me Now".

Seventeen syllables, No. 16

I press Down, Down, Down,
On the keyboard, pointlessly.
Moonbeams shine outside.

Seventeen syllables, No. 15

The passenger seat
Is always occupied by
My friends yesterday.

Seventeen syllables, No. 14

Silk lei on the ground.
Looking—now flowers not just
On my printed shirt.