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[08 Jul 2009|10:56pm] |
i'm in paris
it's fucking rad
that is all
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(love a llama)
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| I'm Explaining a Few Things |
[27 Jun 2009|03:35pm] |
I'm Explaining a Few Things
You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs?
and the poppy-petalled metaphysics?
and the rain repeatedly spattering
its words and drilling them full
of apertures and birds?
I'll tell you all the news.
I lived in a suburb,
a suburb of Madrid, with bells,
and clocks, and trees.
From there you could look out
over Castille's dry face:
a leather ocean.
My house was called
the house of flowers, because in every cranny
geraniums burst: it was
a good-looking house
with its dogs and children.
Remember, Raul?
Eh, Rafel? Federico, do you remember
from under the ground
my balconies on which
the light of June drowned flowers in your mouth?
Brother, my brother!
Everything
loud with big voices, the salt of merchandises,
pile-ups of palpitating bread,
the stalls of my suburb of Arguelles with its statue
like a drained inkwell in a swirl of hake:
oil flowed into spoons,
a deep baying
of feet and hands swelled in the streets,
metres, litres, the sharp
measure of life,
stacked-up fish,
the texture of roofs with a cold sun in which
the weather vane falters,
the fine, frenzied ivory of potatoes,
wave on wave of tomatoes rolling down the sea.
And one morning all that was burning,
one morning the bonfires
leapt out of the earth
devouring human beings --
and from then on fire,
gunpowder from then on,
and from then on blood.
Bandits with planes and Moors,
bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,
bandits with black friars spattering blessings
came through the sky to kill children
and the blood of children ran through the streets
without fuss, like children's blood.
Jackals that the jackals would despise,
stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out,
vipers that the vipers would abominate!
Face to face with you I have seen the blood
of Spain tower like a tide
to drown you in one wave
of pride and knives!
Treacherous
generals:
see my dead house,
look at broken Spain :
from every house burning metal flows
instead of flowers,
from every socket of Spain
Spain emerges
and from every dead child a rifle with eyes,
and from every crime bullets are born
which will one day find
the bull's eye of your hearts.
And you'll ask: why doesn't his poetry
speak of dreams and leaves
and the great volcanoes of his native land?
Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see
The blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood
In the streets!
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(love a llama)
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| You |
[10 May 2009|11:06pm] |
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I miss you. I can't stand to be around you and I think you're a crazy bitch, but I was so happy when things went well. I miss those awesome days we spent together. We just can't be friends... It sucks... Posted via LiveJournal.app.
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(love a llama)
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[20 Apr 2009|02:17am] |
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Being happy doesn't mean that everything is perfect. It means you've decided to live life despite its imperfections. So be happy because life sucks, but you're doing just fine.
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(love a llama)
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| Hmmm |
[05 Apr 2009|09:09pm] |
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This from Joey Comeau's book Overqualified:
"There must be a way we can talk about the past so that it's more than just the past. Everything that has happened or will happen exists together. Just at different times. People die, but that isn't any different from the edge of a table. The table is still there. It just doesn't stretch that far." Posted via LiveJournal.app.
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(love a llama)
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| Bleh |
[30 Mar 2009|11:20pm] |
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Part of me really wants to quit my job. 6pm-3am shifts every Monday suckkkkk. 10pm-7pm shifts every saturday and Sunday almost suck worse. I kinda wish I had a life. But damn 15 ish bucks an hr is awesome. Posted via LiveJournal.app.
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(2 llama lovers  love a llama)
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[27 Mar 2009|02:14am] |
after really long convos yesterday with katie dew and helen hunter, i've realized that i'm pretty pro-life.
whoda thunk it?
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(3 llama lovers love a llama)
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| Hoppípolla |
[20 Mar 2009|10:16pm] |
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Vindurinn og útilykt af hárinu þínu Ég anda eins fast og ég get með nefinu mínu. Hoppípolla Í engum stígvélum.
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(love a llama)
|
|
[07 Mar 2009|08:56pm] |
sometimes i take a Shower
with the lights off.
but before i even finish showering, i turn the lights back On,
because i remember how afraid of the dark i am.
sometimes i go to the Airport
and just sit in there for a few hours.
because i like watching people Reunite.
sometimes i cut my Fingernails way too short.
like, down to the quicks.
because it’s an odd feeling, the way my fingertips Hurt
every time i touch something.
sometimes i go out in public without my Shoes,
because i like feeling the Real ground,
not just the inside of my shoes.
sometimes i re-arrange my Bedroom,
but then i change it right back
because everyone knows that there isn’t a single person
in the world that isn’t afraid of Change.
sometimes i try reading books Upside-down
because i think thats what it would be like if i couldn’t
Read
at all.
sometimes i just sit and watch the Grass grow,
because we’re lucky that it even grows in the First
place.
sometimes i do things.
sometimes i don’t.
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(1 llama lover love a llama)
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| Phil's not gay? |
[07 Mar 2009|10:27am] |
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So wed night I was at skybar and was talking to this chic for a while. Eventually we split and I was hanging out with one of our mutual friends when I asked, "So what'd your friend think of me?" "Well, she said you were pretty much the coolest gay guy she'd ever met...." Fuck... Apparently I give everyone the 1st impression that I'm gay, and that's why I've been having trouble with this "OMG We're bff!" nonsense. That's why I'm still single. It's cause they think I'm gay. When I talked to some of my friends about this they said, "Yeah, I thought you were for the longest time." or "Wait... You're straight?" Hi! My name is Philip Smith. Friends call me Phil. I'm straight! Nice to meet you! FML Posted via LiveJournal.app.
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(2 llama lovers love a llama)
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[03 Mar 2009|11:53pm] |
Dear Citizens of America,
In view of your failure to elect a competent President and thus to govern yourselves, we hereby give notice of the revocation of your independence, effective immediately.
Her Sovereign Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, will resume monarchical duties over all states, commonwealths and other territories (except Kansas, which she does not fancy), as from Monday next.
Your new prime minister, Gordon Brown, will appoint a governor for America without the need for further elections. Congress and the Senate will be disbanded. A questionnaire may be circulated next year to determine whether any of you noticed.
To aid in the transition to a British Crown Dependency, the following rules are introduced with immediate effect:
1. You should look up “revocation” in the Oxford English Dictionary. Then look up “aluminium,” and check the pronunciation guide. You will be amazed at just how wrongly you have been pronouncing it.
2. The letter ‘U’ will be reinstated in words such as ‘colour’, ‘favour’ and ‘neighbour.’ Likewise, you will learn to spell ‘doughnut’ without skipping half the letters, and the suffix “ize” will be replaced by the suffix “ise.”
3. You will learn that the suffix ‘burgh’ is pronounced ‘burra’; you may elect to spell Pittsburgh as ‘Pittsberg’ if you find you simply can’t cope with correct pronunciation.
4. Generally, you will be expected to raise your vocabulary to acceptable levels (look up “vocabulary”). Using the same twenty-seven words interspersed with filler noises such as “like” and “you know” is an unacceptable and inefficient form of communication.
5. There is no such thing as “US English.” We will let Microsoft know on your behalf. The Microsoft spell-checker will be adjusted to take account of the reinstated letter ‘u’ and the elimination of “-ize.”
6. You will relearn your original national anthem, “God Save The Queen”,
but only after fully carrying out Task #1 (see above).
7. July 4th will no longer be celebrated as a holiday. November 2nd will
be a new national holiday, but to be celebrated only in England. It will be called “Come-Uppance Day.”
8. You will learn to resolve personal issues without using guns, lawyers or therapists. The fact that you need so many lawyers and therapists shows that you’re not adult enough to be independent. Guns should only be handled by adults. If you’re not adult enough to sort things out without suing someone or speaking to a therapist then you’re not grown up enough to handle a gun.
9. Therefore, you will no longer be allowed to own or carry anything more dangerous than a vegetable peeler. A permit will be required if you wish to carry a vegetable peeler in public.
10. All American cars are hereby banned. They are crap and this is for your own good. When we show you German cars, you will understand what we mean.
11. All intersections will be replaced with roundabouts, and you will start driving on the left with immediate effect. At the same time, you will go metric immediately and without the benefit of conversion tables… Both roundabouts and metrification will help you understand the British sense of humour.
12. The Former USA will adopt UK prices on petrol (which you have been calling “gasoline”) - roughly $8/US per gallon. Get used to it.
13. You will learn to make real chips. Those things you call french fries are not real chips, and those things you insist on calling potato chips are properly called “crisps.” Real chips are thick cut, fried in animal fat, and dressed not with catsup but with malt vinegar.
14. Waiters and waitresses will be trained to be more aggressive with customers.
15. The cold tasteless stuff you insist on calling beer is not actually beer at all. Henceforth, only proper British Bitter will be referred to as “beer,” and European brews of known and accepted provenance will be referred to as “Lager.” American brands will be referred to as “Near-Frozen Gnat’s Urine,” so that all can be sold without risk of further confusion.
16. Hollywood will be required occasionally to cast English actors as good guys. Hollywood will also be required to cast English actors as English characters. Watching Andie MacDowell attempt English dialogue in “Four Weddings and a Funeral” was an experience akin to having one’s ear removed with a cheese grater.
17. You will cease playing American “football.” There is only one kind of proper football; you call it “soccer”. Those of you brave enough, in time, will be allowed to play rugby (which has some similarities to American “football”, but does not involve stopping for a rest every twenty seconds or wearing full kevlar body armour like a
bunch of Jessies - English slang for “Big Girls Blouse”).
18. Further, you will stop playing baseball. It is not reasonable to host an event called the “World Series” for a game which is not played outside of America. Since only 2.1% of you are aware that there is a world beyond your borders, your error is understandable and forgiven.
19. You must tell us who killed JFK. It’s been driving us mad.
20. An internal revenue agent (i.e. tax collector) from Her Majesty’s Government will be with you shortly to ensure the acquisition of all monies due, backdated to 1776.
Thank you for your co-operation.
John Cleese
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(love a llama)
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| Only in Alabama! |
[01 Mar 2009|05:38pm] |
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Friday: rainy and warm.
Saturday morning: tornados and the end of the world.
Saturday afternoon: mostly cloudy but warm enough that there were a few people tanning.
Sunday: blizzard. I love Alabama weather... Posted via LiveJournal.app.
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(4 llama lovers love a llama)
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| FUCK MY LIFE |
[27 Feb 2009|11:33pm] |
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So I'm out delivering pizzas on campus when a concrete post decides to hide in my blind spot as I'm backing out of the extension. It pretty much rips my bumper in half (which has only been on my car for 2 months) and destroys my tailgate, tire cover and my spare tire. Fuck my life. Then I come from from a not so stellar day at work to find that someone fucked with my xbox and has graced me with a red ring if death. They call it the red ring of death because it is pretty much just that. "Fuck your life. Buy a new 360." Im so fucking pissed off I can even begin explain it. It's bad enough that my shit disappears when my roommate has people over. My alcohol isn't safe, whether or not if it's downstairs in my living room or upstairs in my bed room. My shit gets taken. Nothing ever gets cleaned up. The bar in the basement is still FUBAR from a party back in October. They tried to fuck with my computer but it's password protected. What ever happened to respecting people's shit when your a guest in their house? Fuck, even my roommate fucked with some of my shit in my room. Is nothing sacred? Am I going to have to lock everything in my room while I'm not home? This is ridiculous. Fucking ridiculous. FML.... Posted via LiveJournal.app.
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(2 llama lovers love a llama)
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[27 Feb 2009|11:38am] |
i had a dream today that i got my jeep stuck in a 10 foot deep mud pit. my intake sucked in about 10 gallons of mud into my engine.
i woke up practically in tears.
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(3 llama lovers love a llama)
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| Dear liver... |
[26 Feb 2009|05:37am] |
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Dear liver,
A few hours ago, I absolutely demolished you. You will probably never be the same. I would love to tell you that I'm never gonna do it again, but we both know that's a lie. Regardless of what happens, I love you. Always have. Always will.
Thanks for listening.
Sincerely,
Phil Posted via LiveJournal.app.
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(love a llama)
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|
[19 Feb 2009|12:55pm] |
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What is my perfect crime? I break into Tiffany's at midnight. Do I go for the vault? No. I go for the chandelier; it's priceless. As I'm taking it down, a woman catches me. She tells me to stop. It's her father's business. She's Tiffany. I say no. We make love all night. In the morning the cops come and I escape in one of their uniforms. I tell her to meet me in Mexico but I go to Canada. I don't trust her. Besides, I love the cold. Thirty years later I get a postcard. I have a son. And he's the Chief of Police. This is where the story gets interesting: I tell Tiffany to meet me in Paris by the Trocadero. She's been waiting for me all these years. She's never taken another lover. I don't care. I don't show up. I go to Berlin. That's where I stashed the chandelier.
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(1 llama lover love a llama)
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| Carpe Diem Quam Minimum Credula Postero |
[13 Feb 2009|12:35pm] |
Tu ne quaesieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi finem di dederint, Leuconoe, nec Babylonios tempatris numeros. ut melius, quidquid erit, pati. seu pluris hiemes seu tribuit luppiter ultimam, quae nunc oppositis debilitat pumicibus mare Tyrrhenum: sapias vina liques et saptio brevi spem longam reseces. dum loquimur, fugerit invida aetas: CARPE DIEM QUAM MINIMUM CREDULA POSTERO.
Don't ask what final fate the gods have, what end the gods will give me or you, Leuconoe. Don't play with Babylonian fortune-telling either. It is better to endure whatever will be. Whether Jupiter has allotted to you many more winters or this final one which even now wears out the Tyrrhenian sea on the rocks placed opposite - be smart, drink your wine. Scale back your long hopes to a short period. While we speak, envious time will have already fled. SIEZE THE DAY AND PLACE NO TRUST IN TOMORROW.
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(love a llama)
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