Skip to main content

If I had to make sense I wouldn't ask for your 2 cents

Where are the holes in this smooth blanket?
Forgotten like long buried potted plants from the nursery
Woe is me again as I'm 
Swollen and puffy
from dental surgery

Could you snooze & doze till noon?
Dreams of lavender fields
& cherry blossom trees
Sunday morning feeling
all the way
through September and June

What can be scary at this height?
Friskiness and recklessness
feeling like buddies
Only and always, at the very edge
do I dare to recognize
my self inflicted plight 

Will we sit in pregnant, forebearing silence?
Observing with awe
new lines on each other's forehead
Like in a new school notebook
With every swoop of a tightly held pencil
a small imperceptible smile of confidence 

Would it be ridiculous to splurge on both a new guitar and piano?
The frilly white dress is hanging off the window sill in plain sight
My hair is fresh, too damp from my longish shower 
It's been 2 years since I wrote a song
So if you nod now, I may take that to positively mean "no"

Why do I love the logical?
You have to entertain the possibility of the wrong path
Simulate the path till the wrong end is seen in the mind's eye and ruled out 
So the satisfaction when you arrive at the right path is all the fruitier
And I like fruits and fal
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

New Quotes

For people who believe strongly in the illusiveness of life, to doubt would be more correct than to bear full conviction about anything at all. But then again that questions their primary belief in illusions. - Aditi A world without faith in a higher power or a god is a better world where we can be responsible for our own actions; where we can be kind to one another because we want to and because it is the right thing to do instead of being frightened into behaving by the threat of divine punishment. Many events may have defied your ability to explain, events that seem like miracles, but if you are convinced that you failed to understand them because you're still woefully ignorant about the universe and the learning will never stop, then, you cannot and will not believe that a deity altered the workings of nature. Don't ignore reality in order to comfort yourself, for once you do, you make it easy for others to deceive you. Understanding breeds empathy. We do not writ...
46 comments
Read more

ChAI

I used AI to make my chai this morning.   Why? Because I wanted to see if I’d still get that dopamine hit from something I didn’t even make.   I wanted to know if, by outsourcing an experience whose only purpose was my own consumption, it would take away from it.   By removing the act of boiling water, steeping tea—by only keeping the intent to make it—would I still feel the satisfaction when I took the first sip?   I read somewhere that you should aim to do hard things. That when you push yourself, when you fight resistance, and break through the boundaries of what you thought you could do, the dopamine hit is bigger.   But what happens when everything can be done by AI?   What happens when AI whispers, "I got you," and we stop doing anything at all?   The dopamine hit then wouldn’t come from the effort, but from the discovery that AI can do more, so we do less.   But here’s the catch—AI will do more, and w...
Post a Comment
Read more

Kept / Wept / Slept

For a while now, I've been wearing house slippers that are way too big for me. Firsthand experiencing the dangers of seeking (and knowing) too much, and finding out, rudely, unceremoniously, curiosity can kill more than just the cat. While exciting to taste the fruity slurps of seemingly full-knowledge, the satisfying crunch of acknowledgement, like punching holes through a thick stack of warm copy paper, the thrill of cliff jumps can culminate into bum-first crashing into the deceptive deep. Nobody warns you. That the water is always shallower; swallowing life too fragile to keep. No one explains that the depth is a trick. That the more that you dig, the less it will stick. Hunger loud from the tum; buns left in the breadbasket: none. And thread count of those slightly expensive sheets? No reliable guarantee of sleep. Long story short, if worry is the thief of joy; self awareness is the enemy of miracles. And so the slippers go into that unopened shoe cupboard, unused, where their...
1 comment
Read more