Sine qua non

"I am the sine qua non in your life."
Potential pick-up line? We'll see how it goes.

Oyster Bar

Trapped in the sea, itching itching
for you and me, wishing switching
my mind's unrest, switching wishing
the kind of pearl I'm going to be.

Excuse me, I think you're in my seat.

That moment when ALL 5 of your library go-to spots are taken.
I will never be able to focus now.

I need to scout out more back-ups...

If only we had tickets for our library seats, then we could rightfully and lovingly kick out the mistaken people.

Watching the stars come out

Here's to the spectacular meteor shower.
Calvin and I are lying in the grass, watching the stars come out.

Library Driftwood

You know you've turned into library driftwood when your eyebrows are uncontrollably knitting and your vision has become a painful cross-eyed blur.

After all the time I spend in the library, I think I should at least get some library credit. Too bad the library isn't marketable on the stock market...

Roof patio. Now that would be nice... or just some space heaters for the summertime.

It's a tough world out there, aphids

The orange aphid strolls along the windowsill precipice without a care that he will soon become an unnoticed splat of crimson against a tufted blade of grass below.

Turkish Delight

"A Turkish Phantom"
by me

If only I were a Phantom of delight
eating the scrumptious Turkish Delight.
To follow heaven's lightly light
and not in man's ravenous plight.
For you are hungry, and I am too,
but of glory's light, none a few.
Take my delight, and savor my taste;
let not all of me go to unkept waste.
But take my delight, and cherish it so.
For to everyone else, I'll be unknown.
And take my delight, it'll be yours to keep.
It merely depends on how far you're to reach.
A reach once grasped, I'll have you know
is one forever, so don't you let go

for there will be no more Turkish Delight for you.


A bit cheeky, eh?

And now, for the master. W. Wordsworth

CLXXIV. "She was a Phantom of delight"

SHE was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleam'd upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament:
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;	5
Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.	10
I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet	15
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food,
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.	20
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveller between life and death:
The reason firm, the temperate will,	25
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With something of an angel light.

Shelfie

I'm a shelfie.
You can't study among books of bore or a kind of the lower bourgeoisie, no! I surround my studious self with varied literature and books on artistry.

I am a shelfie because I recognize that someone has checked out the blue Picasso book that usually dwells next to the green.

A piece of me is missing, or rather, distorted in Picasso's case.

Muse on, shelf.

That Gosh Dang Awful Haiku of Irony

To love and to die

is life at its inmost fate,

but to die sans love…

This one didn't make it into the Sojourn, but I thought I'd take it from my politics class notes and share anyways.

Fe

"Iron-control on the isolated territory."

What am I writing my paper about?

Hint: think about
my interests
recent news
1982
and not communism

Adde "e"

It'se juste one ofe those dayse whene youe type ane "e" aftere everye single worde.

Ane underlyinge resulte ofe readinge tooe muche ofe anythinge ine olde Englishe. Perhapse ite hase become a subconsciouse habite?

Someone helpe me please, before mye entire papere ise underlinede in rede.

Private Java Estate

Food Court coffee is usually less than so so, but today's option was named "Java Estate Coffee." The odd name deterred my hope in its quality, but it was the only coffee offered so I succumbed to a cup filled to the brim.

Best coffee ever, and it was probably just regular anyways.

Lesson: getting too creative with mixing blends is your downfall, dear food court.

Just stick with the fancy names.

Realismo mágico

Sometimes I feel like my situation in life is the essence of magical realism.

Sweet Dreams

It's not very often that a person I love very dearly enters my dream, a person who is now a mere memory, for their body is no longer living or breathing.

But when they do, it just might be the sweetest and most delicate of experiences.

We go about our daily lives with the acceptance that those people are no longer able to communicate with us and experience our lives as we grow up.

But getting the opportunity to have a conversation with them, years later, is absolutely thrilling. You can tell them about how you finally graduated high school, the excitement of falling in love, the great books you've read, the times that you dialed their number to tell them some exciting news and then realizing that their number had been disconnected because they were no longer alive, having a conversation with them about something you knew nothing about as a child, but now are equipped to talk about as your years have advanced, your experiences have advanced.

You you are sitting there, at an unknown location, sipping hot tea, and discussing life, a life that has been without them.

Only in our sweet dreams can we be comforted by the fact that it doesn't really matter that they were never there to experience the rest of your life with you, all that matters is that life itself is merely a sweet moment, and memories and apparently my subconscious, thankfully, are sweet moments as well.

Thanks for the great conversation, friend.

Squirrel Meat

I remember my disturbing dream quite vividly.

The squirrel was to attack and land on me just like the wolf landing on High King Peter in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe." 

The squirrel missed landing on my sharp stick, so I skewered it.
But, when I skewered it, it pulled apart as if it were cooked chicken. I repeatedly skewered it, as if I were pulling apart my deliciously cooked meal.

So my question is what in spastic squirrel territory was I subconsciously thinking in my dream?
My roommate consoled me by saying that I was probably just hungry.
But, for squirrel meat?

The violence was probably the famished stomach of mine expressing its rabid hunger.
We can only hope...