Friday, March 28, 2008

One Depressing Thing about Love....One Happy Thing
So in my Public Health class we learned about Syphilis today and the various types of testing required in different states to get a marriage license...*sigh* I realized today that sadly, even if I am lucky enough to marry a woman of good moral standing, with the way mores have shifted, "good moral standing" nowadays means she will only have had the odd sexual partner or two, and I'm going to have to ask her to get checked, if only to assuage my own paranoia regarding Health Down Under.


And here's a happy thing: in keeping in conjunction with the whole "bad poetry time" thing, here is a poem I had to write (in 5 minutes, nonetheless) during my Spanish class this morning, as a response to the following two poems:
"Sátira filosófica":
"Hombre pequeñito":

So here goes:

Un hombre y una mujer no deben tener tristeza,
En su relación, pueden buscar la belleza,
El odio, la arrogancia, la opresión, no son inevitable,
Porque el amor es como una granja...sobre la tierra arable


Thursday, March 27, 2008

This isn't the worst poem I've ever written. But it is close.

"The Verizon Wingman": Ode to a Phone Most Clutch

Hello, my little friend,
I must say I'm sad to say goodbye,
But as close as you've been to me,
I'm Troy Browning you and here's why,

You've been with me all these years,
Through three (!!!) girlfriends thick and thin*,
And buzzed and vibrated when I needed,
A solution to the hole I was in.

You took photos at my beck and call,
Of my family, my home, my loves,
You took photos of my cousin small,
That got the girls all "awww".

You eavesdropped on my conversations,
Cooed and clucked your disapproval,
And sighed when you heard my undulations,
Of secrets not kept frugal.

You made calls to Kansas, The West Side, Texas, Pittsburgh,
Clifton was your tin-can bro,
Like all good wingmen you went mrrghh,
Every time I dialed "dat ho".

We shared every nick and scratch,
Every vicissitude of life,
We clutched each other cheek-to-cheek,
And got five bars through strife.

[OK, that's a lie- Verizon domestic coverage is TERRIBLE]

You took down numbers, all the digits,
Of girls for whom there was no chance,
You T9 their names when my fingers fidget,
And don't laugh at me when I text them for a dance,

But now it's time, my friend,
To flee from the wicked and the corrupt,
I've troubled you enough with all my problems,
And frankly, our contract is up.

*and maybe a few that don't count.

Friday, March 14, 2008


And then eighty until he sold another one.

My original idea was to try to get published or awarded or something before I got out of college, and then after that I would give it up. But I've changed my times.

50. 50 is the number I will reach before I realize I don't have it. And here are the first three:

1) Rejection of "Hollow Girl" from Writers of the Future, Summer 2004
2) Rejection of "First Date" from Overture Awards, Fall 2006
3) Rejection of "First Date" from Magazine of Science Fiction and Fantasy, Fall 2006

More coming...

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

It rained here tonight...

I turn on the showerhead
Water pouring out
Gushing out
Raining out

I'm outside.
It's raining,
Noah's rain,
The kind of rain you see in long streaks of white across black comic book pages,
Frank Miller rain (heh),
Angsty noir old Frank Miller is snoring

Rain of memories of times we've had,
Times I had, with you, and with You,
Times you'll forget,

Memories drawn into themselves,
Surface tensioning into perfect beads on the flat surface of the universe,
Before splishsplashing out into spread puddle and deltaHvap evaporation,
Such scientific gobbledygook babblerabble a;lsjadf;lkajsdflkjsdfkjsldfj
Everything running all together a thousand million permutations
Scenes from a canon of my life...

you remember Hiroshima?
No, of course you didn't. I asked you "Remember me" and you laughed,
And you didn't.
Rewind remix reorder
Three minutes earlier,
you looked at me with those china blue eyes,
Clear like the streams and creeks pouring down from the heavens,
Set aside your lime green umbrella,
Roll up those yellow sleeves,
Pull back that yellow hair,
("Oh your hair looks good up OR down" I had said and you giggled and rolled your eyes and pretended like you hadn't seen that coming from across the universe),
you give me a look: the hint of a salacious smile flashes across your face like the lightning overhead,
Tempestuous temptation in that perfect angular anglosax face,
I'm too young to understand you but some part of me already knows I shouldn't.
But I do.

your lips. My lips. Lust the perfect surfactant.
Our perfect mirrored spherical droplets collapse and merge and run together,
The whole world goes dark,
No light,
Just warm and wet and slick and safe,
One soaked moment with you
you you you
And for a moment, I have everything I want in the world.


I was so young, so easy to please,
Would it be that I could have taken that and nothing else from the world,
Before you forgot me and "you" became "her",
And rain ceased to mean anything.

Iowa? You remember Iowa?
You, not "you", You,
More rain, rain pooling everywhere,
Soaking everything, saturation point to the max,
You with Your jeans wanly wicking water,
Lapping it up from the ground,
Your own auburn 'tails soaked up anyways,

Who was I to know,
That You would be there for a good long while,
Out in the rain,
Letting it all run down You-

Hah. Enough.

No more mysticism.
I flip off the showerhead and it stops.
Not a droplet more of you or You for me.
Long stablets of ice waft in from the window the cleaning lady opens every morning at 6AM.
It's just air that stabs me now, just cold air,
Evaporation steals energy, steals heat, so now I'm cold.
But there's no spiritual, no memorable, no nothing, just an atheist's paradise,
Or a pragmatists (we don't need no steenkin' romantics here)
I don't rub < KES 3 or < EKH 3 into the fog on the mirror anymore,
I'm my own man. I don't need the rain to keep me upright, to keep me warm.
I'm looking forward.
you've long forgotten me. and You don't want to remember me.
Fine, if that's the way you want to play, then that's how we all will.

I get dressed. I vow to myself, no more long showers, and no more rain of memories.
But as I flipflop my way out of the bathroom, I chuckle at my stoicism.
I look at the showerhead I've sworn off.

Hell, I'll be back here tomorrow morning anyways.

On Brett Favre's Retirement (cough) from

Brett Favre is gone. Life has no meaning.

While I wasn't the one to break the news of His Gunslingerness' retirement, I have been working the phones since the moment the news came out to get reaction from big names in and out of football. Here are some of them:

"See, this is why we traded him. He's a quitter." -- former Falcons coach Jerry Glanville

"Boom! Bam! Pow! That's the sound my giant tears are making when they hit the floor." -- John Madden

"Noooooooo! I'm still 60 sacks short of the all-time record." -- Michael Strahan

"Maybe we should trade for my brother-in-law. He might be good enough to beat out Aaron Rodgers." -- A.J. Hawk

"I tip my 40-ounce mocha double latte with extra whipped cream to his memory." -- Peter King

"What? Worn out after 275 consecutive starts, are you? What a wimpy little girl." -- Cal Ripken Jr.

"Trust me on this: Brett should stick around one more year." -- Tiki Barber

"All that we have now to remember him is game film. Hours and hours and hours of game film." -- Bill Belichick

"If he's feeling tired and beat-up, I know of some stuff that can help with that." -- Shawne Merriman

"Great. Now he'll be more of a regular in our interracial two-hand touch games we play in a nearby wheat field while wearing our Wranglers as our dogs watch from the back of our pickup trucks." -- Brett Favre's friends

"Looks like it's time for The Majik Man to make his triumphant return." -- Don Majkowski

"I make terrible decisions and throw a lot of interceptions. Any chance I can take over his title of 'gunslinger' now?" -- Rex Grossman

"Thanks for retiring after first breaking all of my records. You won't be getting any Isotoners from me next Christmas." -- Dan Marino

"You are a great quarterback and a fine actor. In fact, you are a much better actor than I am." -- Cameron Diaz

"Why did he make this decision so quickly? He still has plenty of time to think through all of his options." -- Terrelle Pryor

"I hope this doesn't mean you are going to run and jump into my arms every time you successfully take the trash out or change a light bulb." -- Deanna Favre

"Brett will love retirement. It's nice not having to stay in shape all the time." -- Gilbert Brown

"Retired? Brett Favre? Any chance he will come out of retirement for a one-year, $40 million contract?" -- Daniel Snyder

"I ended the Patriots' perfect season and sent Brett Favre out of the NFL a loser. Who is man enough to step to this?" -- Eli Manning

"Sweet! I still think I have a good year or two left in me." -- Aaron Rodgers