milk bottle skyscape

quote:
" I used to think love was an old man smashing a mirror over his knee" -jeffrey mcdaniel
hello spring. i want to officially welcome you back to chicago. this now means my bike lanes through chicago are a bit more congested with fair-weather riders. it also means there are heaps of motorcycles. which i like to pass on my bicycle - especially the bearded motorcyclists.

speaking of which, a couple days ago i was returning to my abode from lincoln park and i was crossing north and damen, going south past that outdoor grill place with lots of people sitting outside and a super zz top bearded guy was just getting on his motorcycle in front of the place. Obviously, trying to show off to all the diners, he did some spin on his bike, but then lost control and went flying across damen mostly on one wheel, eventually landing under his bike. luckily, i was enough out of the way to avoid the display. he pulled himself and his bike up and then said "fuck" under his breath as i passed by. I kept pedaling towards home, and began to think that this might be some warning not to get a motorcycle and was about to dismiss the idea when i passed his comrade who was waiting on his own motorcycle just out of the way of the bike lane. as i passed the comrade, i looked at him and his face was completely distorted by scars.

then i thought, hmm, well, i'm not going to be one of those motorcyclists (meaning flashy stupid ones who are trying to prove something). nor will i really ride it much in the city anyway. then i got macdonald's french fries and met my friends in humboldt park for a late night picnic. ahh....

i'll leave you with a gorgeous poem i read a few days ago:

Bishnu Dey

---

ASPIRATION

Wipe out the sky tonight,
Smear darkness on the stars,
Blot out the moon in the slough of sleeplessness.
Cover your eyes and come
Through the web of the wind,

Drown the noise
Of the strides of the night-veiled sea
To take my breath away
At each your soundless footfall.
In the quiet-quelled night
Let us meet mouth to mouth
Upon the summit of sleeplessness.
Shatter your world, scatter it in the sky,

And come to me in the dark.

.fresh.

lichen climbing envy flowered pants

quote:
There are no facts, only interpretations. Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

i have nothing to say
really, there is nothing at all to say.
everything that needs to be said, that had to be said
has already been said.
all the great thoughts, all the terrible thoughts
all the in-between ones too.

all said.

except, with all of those words said,
all the different ideas expressed in poetry,
speeches, whale calls, books, songs, art,
choir arrangements, the evening news,
sky-writing, refrigerator poetry, alarm clocks,
barking dogs, beeping trucks, penguins' penguin noises,
ticker tapes, billboards, the internet, encyclopedias
libraries, legal documents, gestures
-- with all of that said, we still have
these injustices, these terrible atrocities, inequalities,
waiting for words, communication, ideas to finally overpower them.

living inside paradox

quote:

"Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself. (I am large, I contain multitudes)"
Walt Whitman

To me, paradox
has always been
comforting. When two
large forces clash
and destroy each
other, the volume
of being lonely,
there is always
a precious moment
created,
in their wake,
of nothingness - of
no expectation, of
pure somethingness.

When the weather warms, smiles grow, footsteps on pavement accelerate, the concentration of people outside grows dramatically, more chatter is heard - birds being a morning culprit, clothes are shed, lights stay on a little bit longer, the sun arrives earlier, and kicks around a bit later as well. The poet sits at the table, in the early morning, before the city wakes, looking out the window and imagines all the windows light travels through at this moment; it weightlessly touches, illuminates, faces, toes, through curtains, gently waking thoughts and dreams.


psst.
Hitler used expletives. And probably ate finger sandwiches.