Wednesday, January 21, 2004
(3:17 AM) | Anonymous:
Women and Redheads First
Hello! Jumping in the water is the best way to learn swimming and blogging, but introductions are always important. My name is Michael. It says so on the bottom of my post.
Who the hell am I? Just another guy who knows how to skillfully insert random links into his entries, attempting to connect seeming unconnected material to strengthen my own irrelevant ramblings?
Let's hope not.
I am currently six feet one inches tall, redheaded, and 22, though the clock is ticking on that last one. I recently graduated from Western Michigan University, which is a large school of some thirty thousands freezing their keisters off in Kalamazoo. I currently am a part-time student to save my parents money on health insurance while I await acceptance into a graduate program or work up the nerve to backpack across the Andes. I live in a not-so-spacioius apartment with three other gentlemen, all of which I met my freshman year in the dorms. It is a crowded, dude-funk-filled, and contented living arrangement. Sometimes girls come over, which is nice.
When I am not reading or practicing my ukulele, I am either playing video games or writing music, both of which have a similar chance of getting me a steady paycheck someday. Which is good, because a steady paycheck is the prison of the buh-szwah-zee! And I'm a member of the pro-lay-taryut. Which means I'm poor, and perversely proud of it. But don't worry - I don't vote.
Introductions aside, I should rant about something. I don't recall if the posts are timestamped or not, so I will tell you that it is 4:34 in the AM, and I am not tired in the least. That is my current situation; I have become unstuck in time, in the Billy Pilgrim sense of the word. [apologies for the obligatory Amazon link] I have lost my sleep pattern, and now I generally stay awake anywhere from eighteen to twenty hours before collapsing for a quick six hour nap. This means that I never know exactly when I'm going to be awake, barring work and my one 9 am class. I have to admit I prefer staying up the entire night to waking up for class. The act of jarring an incomplete night's sleep to drive to campus seems similar in some ways to reviving a dead patient via electrocution; it works, but the method is not beyond improvement.
This new sleeping arrangement gives me a lot of 'alone-time.' Not much goes on during the hours between three and six in the morning. However, I think it's worth it just to see the sun rise and the day light up. It is much more majestic than the opposite, to my eyes. I have time to write a lot of oddly-inspired sleep-deprived music. And I've read some good books. Also, I find I have time to read a lot more quality time-wasting material on the internet, as well as watch my roommates' encyclopedic movie collection. My Neighbor Totoro may be the finest children's movie ever made; though I can't promise it won't lose its magic when viewed before [or after] the four o'clock hour.
To close, allow me to publish a poem written in the deep watches of the night, during one my recent sojourns into the depths of sleep limbo.
Light fell in shattered fragments
Love, a blanket, torn away
Breath, the pulling, ebbing gone
Heart may well be cased in stone
Love’s a chisel, handle gripped
By the lover you let slip
Through your thoughts, words and deeds
Gone from sight, unreached by speed
Heart of flesh, a Lonely Hunter,
Mind of doubt, made to regret Her,
Hand of Man, unruly emissary,
Tongue of speech, wholly unnecessary.
The broken Light she can mend
The stolen cover is spread anew
The missing wind flows through again
The heated Heart thaws the Mind
When the music stops I’ll know
The feel of your breath
I’ll see the
Light
This post was written to the internally sounding strains of Elgar's |Dream of Gerontius.|
