Monday, June 20, 2011


In lieu of any formal poetry, I will share with you today this fact about myself which, if not funny, may be at least an observation of the human condition;

I often suffer a great deal of anxiety when listening to pop music through this procedure of ideas, taken in a background of very full, harmonic, basic tones:
Recognition of incomplete and lustful desire ("love"), inasmuch as the pop song is insincere>
>Reflection upon complete, dependent, self-giving, and holy, desperate Love>
>Consideration of the true, deeply marital nature of Man and Woman>
>Deep understanding of human (including myself) stupidity, hate, disconnection, and unnecessary distance>

I've found that it is rarely relieved by anything except prayer or severe distraction, but that goes for all anxiety, really.

Good Day!

PS. It's my birthday, and I just remembered a bit of poetry I composed this very morning on the way to work.
Um, Yes?

I'm Eighteen, I'm eighteen,
Drinking coffee with Irish Creme,
And the smell of a new pack of cigarettes!

I hope you liked it.  It was frought with imagery and deliciousness.

Happy Birthday to meeeeeeeeee!


  1. Well, happy birthday! Welcome to the world of adulthood! I suggest buying spay paint and signing some release forms :)

  2. I'm not going anywhere near anything called spay paint.

  3. hahaha. good plan :) maybe try spray paint? it's much safer, and more rebellious sounding.

  4. I didn't know you had to be 18 for spray paint. But I'll definitely throw that on the list. And maybe we can spray things with paint together when you finally show up at Steubenville!

  5. I think you do in California at least. And yes, let's definitely do that :)