another blog in the dark

This is not the time for quitting, she said, pacing somewhere in that dark room, the lights turned off. Dammit, she couldn't even see where she was going. She wasn't even in her own house.

It was the place she lived in though. But it wasn't her house. I wasn't her home.

You see, home is not the place where she resides. It was somewhere where comort and trust and passion and understanding combined. It would be a corner, a street, a lap, a chair, a swing, an ocean, or somebody's brow, a heart.

This was not the place to give up or give in, she thought, although nobody seemed to be left in the building.

I don't know where my home is. I only know when I get there, she said to the window. The streetlights were dimmer than usual it seemed. Or maybe it was just the glass in the window. Maybe it was thick. Maybe she was wrong.

All she knew was that she wasn't sleeping.

You would think she was sad but she was actually smiling more than usual, and laughing.

Just remembering maybe. Giving power to her rememberances.

What will become of me? She clasped her hands around a warm cup of tea. She could see herself in many shoes, ahead, blooming, all of her dreams being reached. A beautiful house on a hill. A family maybe. Or no family. Just a husband. No husband, just cats. No cats, just the ocean. No ocean just the wind. No wind, just the grass. No grass, just the sand. It could be anything. It could be full or empty. Plain or fancy.

Home could be anywhere.

This may take a long time to find but now's just not the time to quit.

that song came on.

kiss me kiss me kiss me

diss me diss me diss me

just don't just don't baby just don't forget me

the long awaited blog and writing poetry in the dark

I am taking a risk here.

But I am slightly tipsy or buzzed maybe so this makes things easier.

When I was a freshman in college, I had a presentation to make in my English 101 class. I was supposed to skip that class because I passed the AP exam, but  somehow the course got confused when registering and I ended up taking it anyways. So we had to prsent a how to speech for the class. Everyon had pratical things, but mine was how to write poetry ..in the dark. I presented to the class..in a velveteen blue hat and dress...my theory n writin g poetry in the dark and how it stiumlates the mind and protects from distraction. I made the whole class write poetry in the dark. My professor said that she would never forget that class.

In honor of that, tonight, I wiam writing this blog in the dark. I even truned the computer screen off. I am not even poist9ive I am typing on all th rright keys.

Here goes.

Somewhere in all the middle of this I became something powerful. Do you know what power is.  That is supposed to be a question mark but I can't seem to find it in the dark....

Tjhe only things we find in the dark are shapes, outlines..things that are familiar. We graps around for what we trust, for what we recognize, for what we depend on as a solid shape to hold us or guide us to our destination.

When I was a child I used to play "blin dkid" all of the time. I would come down the stairs for brekfast with my eyes closed, feelign around, stumbling through things. My mother would get annoyed and mad about it. I was a dork.

One time I even wanted to know what it was like for a blind kid to ride a bike. LIttle did I know at the time that blind kids probably don't rid e bikes. I learned this pretty quickly. I rode my bike down the street with my eyes clsoeds and as soon as I tried to squint I ran into a parked car. Twince.

Seem stupid.

Wjhu mpot? Why not try it.

That's how we learn.

IThis year has been a blind man's year for me. It is Decemeber. Cold. the year is almost ove.r This whole year started out as some crzed dream of champions blende dinwith terror, death, confusion, pain, turmoil, love, passion, anger, heartbreak, bitterneass...defeat.

blindness and defeat.

One could say that I know defeat well. I know blindness well. I know handicap well.

I am a sensitive person.

I thought I was fragile.

Maybe sI am in some ways.

But tonight, I tell you that I am not. I appear to break easily, but I am not yet oken. My limbs are weak but they have not failed compeltely. My heat has been crushed buyt it beats back with encreible wingforce. My childhood has been shattered but yet I have marched on, despite 3everyithng. Dont you see> A warrieor is not one who fights, but one who does what is necessary despite the circumstance, despite the defeat, despite the sting.

That is what I have done.

I have cried every day this week. I didn't know why. I thought it was that I was afraid of the change.

This is not grue.

I cry because it is happening. I have reached goals that I have dreame dabotu for years...I have defeated violence, wicked blasts with determination to succeed, to do what is necessary to survive, to go higher than that. Higher than survival.

This has always been my goal, my basis for living. I am not here to survive, but to live. My ind has fooled me yet and yet again. Thinking that I am strugllgin to survive when I am alreayd far behyojd that.

Words are said fewquently in my ears that say otherwise. That I cannot do anyting on my own. I am stupid. I will not succeeed.

I hate them. I feel myself crumble beneath the. But it is not true. For I always rise above them.

Fiflth.

These words are fiflth.

Bakc to tipoc.

Myabve.

I said I'd write a blog about balance. life balance. I wrote one, but did not like it.

Here are the basics of this:

All of this can com eform Seinfeld and Fight Club. My favorite SEindield eposode is the one where Goerge succeeds by doning the opposite of what he nomrally would do, and Jerry just relaxes about eveyrhtin bcause e says it will all come back around and even out. I beleive this.

What we dhould strive for is balance. Not perfection. Not success. Not survival. But balane.

When we achieve balance all of our goals, dreams, choices, and actions are in line. It is the conflict between these things that keeps us from being happy, keeps us confused, keeps us missing out.

Fight Club demostrates the two extremems. We must find middle ground. Seld improvement may be masturbation but self-destruction is not what we are looking for...because it becomes mass destrucions...it hurts those aroun dus.

why>

BECAUSE EVERYTHIN IS CONNECTED RELATED I cannot sit her eand prove the existene of God to you today, but I can tell you that eveyrting is connecte dan rrealted. Just liek a visual represenation of a geomatrical equation resembles branches on a tree which resemeble veins in a human body snowflaks spiderwebs and water molectles and a fingerprint. Where you drive in the morning effects teh commuters ahead and behind you, pedestrians, the bugs on the gruond, the air, employees, choices, everything.

Graph a fractal on a graphing caculator. You will see random chaotic poitns appear at random times. In the end, it creates an elaborated, organized picture.

you can't see it until you have waited for all teh points to be plotted.

Waht I have learned this year is blindness. Darkness. I have seen darkness first hand from my youth, from then and now.pBut there is a difference between darkness and the unknown.

Or is there.

What i know from this year, this cold cold year has been full of passion, confusion, death, pain. achievment, rtribultaiton, strength, anger, bitterness, love. And lots of blindes.

But a blind man does not learn to see, he learns to sympathize his body by strengthening othe rsenses.

in the battle between chaos and order, we find balance, the two combined into a masterpiece.

I canonot understand these u nknowms, I must continue on. I must focus insead on what is present. LIke now. This computer, my hands, typing words on a screen to you.

This is now.

Now I am in the dark, I am cold, ready to sleep, slightly tipsy. Crying. Sort of. Just teary eyesd. This is now.

It makes no sense to me righ tnow what I write. But i tis here. I am sure words ar emispelld.

But perhpas there is a purspe for this. Purphaps you will understand.

Maybe nbot.

But i dodens' tmater beause it is now and that is all I know. Tomororw will come when tomorrow comes.

This cold darnkess is not lonely but full of words. and words are my wellspring of passion.

I use words to expres smyself. This moment is sacred nbecasue it is now.

Closer to fine

' I don't know. I am here. And knowing that is all I need to have achieved at this point.

A point is on a line which is on  A plane

We are on the chaotic trip to some unnamed plan

and if not, i will still keep writing 

Currently listening : Swamp Ophelia By Indigo Girls Release date: By 10 May, 1994

Shaking Hands With a Dragon (Short Story)

A little story by Laura D.

Everybody knows that a person cannot shake hands with a dragon. First off, most dragons have long, flesh-tearing claws that are not accustomed to gentler human forms of greeting passersby. Second of all, the size difference between humans and dragons would also pose a likely problem during the hand-shaking process, seeing that most humans would find themselves squashed under the incredible weight of the dragon, or thrown off of the balcony (if there is an available balcony at the time, of course) and into the misty lake or gloomy pit of fire below. The third, and most important reason a person cannot shake hands with a dragon is simply that dragons do not compromise. Any attempt to do so will always be met with large breaths of fire, a few smacks, a couple of stomps, and perhaps a few chomps now and then. There isn’t really anything else one can do except to accept whatever the terms the dragon has to offer or don’t attempt to make any deals at all.

Woollard was an incredibly stubborn dragon. He tended to stay at home, in his cave in the purple mountains of Carabet, and never seemed to venture far out of his home boundaries unless only for a very short while. This frustrated many of the other dragons in the town because Woollard was not just a stubborn dragon, he was also one of the most generous, well-liked dragons in the province of Ayronie, and dragons were always trying to invite him on adventures and expeditions outside of the area. Each time he was invited, he would have some excuse as why he could not go. Still, dragons continued visit him in his cave, and were always able to convince him to come out many nights to the Firefly Pub across the street for beer and Fireball matches. As friendly as he was, everyone knew that they could never push Woollard to go any farther than he was willing, and saw wisdom and hardness in his eyes that kept anyone from getting too close.

Twenty-five miles away, a good boat ride across the river called Raef, lived the village where humans lived. Humans existed in very small numbers during this time, and they were also very small creatures compared to the humans that exist today. Many creatures resented the existence of humans because although they created many amazing tools and contraptions, they had a tendency to overuse supplies to clear out any area they inhabited. Dragons and humans had a decent bartering relationship, as long as boundaries and customs were respected on both sides, but not many friendships existed between humans and dragons.

A young female human named Iris lived in this village. Iris was probably about 16 years old at the time of this story, and she was living at home with her parents and her older brother, Benjamin. Iris was very clever and very imaginative, and most people did not understand her ways of thinking, even more so than what is typical for the average teenage human. You see, Iris always believed that dragons and humans were meant to be friends, and that no one had ever had enough motivation to get out of their own comfort zones and try. She was always painting pictures of dragons and writings stories about dragons, but everyone believed she would grow out of it when she was older. By the time she reached 16, she started to hide the drawings in her closet and the stories under her mattress so that no one would know about them. Sometimes late at night she would take boats across the river and watch the dragons in restaurant windows, through pub doors, and on tops of roofs of dragon caves. In all this time, however, Iris still had never befriended a dragon.

The day that changed all of this was a Thursday. Iris was up early, preparing for a scenic summer boat ride up and down the river Raef, looking for different types of flowers for her pressing book. As she was passing by the dragon village, she saw a bright patch of beautiful red flowers growing at the water’s edge. She stopped the boat, leaned over to reach the flowers when she was suddenly distracted by a loud, buzzing sound. As she slowly glanced up from the waters edge, she saw a large sleeping dragon on the grass nearby, all alone.

"Hello!" Iris tried to greet the dragon, hoping he would wake up and talk to her, but the dragon didn’t move.

"Hello! Wake up!" Iris called, tapping the dragon on the back. At this point, she was out of the boat and onto the grass. Iris was dripping wet from the river, and when some of the water droplets fell on the dragon’s face, he sat up suddenly looking both surprised and confused.

"What are you doing," the dragon said gruffly, still half-asleep.

-"Well, I saw that you were sleeping and I thought you might want to wake up since it seems your friends have left you."

Everyone knows that dragons are only alone when they are at home. They never are in public by themselves on purpose. This is just the way of things. The dragon looked around him, saw that indeed, he was alone.

"Oh, well I guess you’re right. They must have gone inside."

Iris came and sat down next to the dragon. She pulled out her picnic basket and handed the dragon a doughnut.

"What is your name, dragon?"

"My name is Woollard. What’s your name?" The dragon saw the girl had green eyes, not much greener than his own.

"My name is Iris, its nice to meet you. Do you ever ride boats on this river?"

"No, I dont ever go in this river at all."

"Oh," said Iris, and tried to change the subject quickly because the dragon seemed tense about the topic. "Well, do you like the doughnut?"

"It smells good, but it tastes like a cough drop to me."

Woollard and Iris talked for the next hour by the river, and found that they had quite a bit in common. They both loved to write stories, they both loved music, and they both had trouble stopping laughing once they've started, and eventually found themselves falling over into the grass from laughing so hard that day. The continued to see each other every few days, sometimes by the river, sometimes in the courtyard in dragon land. Woollard had even invited her to come hang out with his friends sometimes, who took well to her once they were used to conversing regularly with a human. Iris came out every Tuesday night with Woollard and his friends to practice Ju-Jitzu, and she was beginning to become pretty decent at it. The one thing that disappointed Iris the most about her friendship with Woollard was that he would never cross the river over to her side of the province, he would never go into her world. Most of the time Iris didn't mind this, as she always had so much fun in the dragon village. But sometimes she would stay up late at night with her paints, crying into the paper because she wanted the dragon to meet her family and see her friends and learn about her side of the world. But he never came, no matter how many times she tried. He always had an excuse for why he could not go, and it was evident that he would not change his mind. All of his friends warned Iris about this, and told her about the hardness in his eyes, but when Iris looked into Woollard’s face, all she saw was sadness and love, and a lot of fear. And it was because of these things that she saw that she was determined to change his mind.

One night, Iris came down to the river after dinner to sit and think and look at the stars. She was surprised when she got there to see that Woollard was on the other side of the river, smoking his pipe and also looking at the stars. When Iris saw him, a grin came across her face.

"Woollard! Woollard! Over here!" Iris jumped in her boat and paddled across the where her dragon friend was sitting.

"Well, hello there, Iris. I’m glad to see you this evening." Woollard took another puff of his pipe.

"Woollard please come over to my house! I want to show you something cool my dad has invented!"

Woollard closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He knew how badly she wanted him to cross over the river.

"Iris, I’m sorry, but I cant go over there tonight. But tell me all about it."

"Well, its a new gadget he designed. Its basically a contraption that is both a pen and a calculator."

"Really? Well that’s kind of neat. Well, maybe one of these days I will see it…" Woollard’s voice trailed off, almost to the stars it seemed.

"Woollard." Iris scooted closer to the dragon, turning her face so that it lined up with his. "Do you love me Woollard?" Her eyes were filled with question.

"Of course. Yes, I love you Iris," Woollard said, smiling.

"Well then why will you not go across this river and meet my family and friends?"

"Iris, its such a long story. Its not that I don’t want to meet your family or your friends, or see where you live. Its just, I just cant tell you why, that’s all. There are things you don’t know about me that you don’t need to know."

"But I thought you and I told each other everything!"

"I’ve told you everything you need to know. If you knew some things about me, you wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore."

"But Woollard, you will always be my friend."

"Iris, you just- you just don’t understand."

Iris looked up now and saw that Woollard had tears in his eyes, and she realized she couldn’t push him to say anymore.

"I’m sorry," she said, and put her arm around him. "You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But one day, one day, do you promise you will cross this river for me. One day even if its ten years from now?"

Woollard looked at her, and on impulse blurted out, "Yes, one day I will go across for you, I promise." Woollard suddenly realized what he had said, but it was too late now. He knew he had said what he really wanted, and he couldn’t change his words now. Slowly and gently, Iris reached out her hand to shake his. Woollard had never shook hands with anyone before, after all, he was a dragon, and nobody shakes hands with a dragon. But somewhere in this young human girl with dark hair and green eyes, Woollard saw more courage and conviction than 10,000 dragons. Knowing that he couldn’t go back on his word, Woollard extended his right claw, took the girls hand, and shook it. The sharp claws were painful against Iris's smooth fingers, and a few drops of blood fell and soaked into the ground. Woollard was apologetic, but Iris didn’t mind, because she was wise enough to know that sometimes there it is painful to get close to someone else, sometimes it hurts to break through the skin. And sometimes, a friendship is worth that little bit of pain.

Motivated by passion and hope, Iris stood up, and began to pull Woollard into the water.

"Well, then what’s stopping you? Come across now! I know you can do it!" She began to pull him off the edge and into the water towards the boat. As soon as Woollard’s first foot touched the cool water, he snapped out of her grasp, accidentally slashing Iris’s right cheek with one of his claws. Irish gasped, and brought her hand to her cheek, cupping the wound.

"Please! Just leave me alone! You don’t understand! Just leave me alone!" Woollard was crying now, and he stormed off into the night, disappearing into the trees.

This was the last time Iris saw Woollard, at least for now. More of those beautiful red flowers grew in the spot where the blood from Iris' hand fell during the making of their promise. She came to the dragon village now and then, but she never found him. All of Woollard’s friends told her that he just stays in his cave and never comes out, except for the occasional fireball match now and then. Sometimes Iris would come and knock on his door, but he never answered.

One day Iris found an old newspaper in the library that told the story of Woollard and the river of Raef. Apparently Woollard befriended another human girl once named Mattie. He used to go over into the human village all of the time, and play with her friends and sing at talent shows. Apparently one night he was carrying her across the river and somehow she had fallen in and drowned and he was unable to save her. Ever since that day, he has never crossed the river, both for fear of hurting someone, and for fear of what the humans in the village think of him now.

Iris read this story and felt sad for Woollard, and still waits for him to this day. Maybe one day he will come out of his cave and find her, or perhaps he will stay inside the comfort of his home, away from fear, away from life, and away from love. Dragons are stubborn creatures, you know, even if they intend to keep their promises. And as stubborn as Woollard is, Iris is even more patient. And sometimes all a human can do is wait.

The Ocean (poem)

The Ocean (c2001)

Tonight I drank your body away,

falling down to the bottom of the dark.

The waves slap the rocks on the shore restlessly.

The moon chuckles at swarms of fish

biting at our toes, our fingers, tickling my thighs.

An old airplane flies noisily overhead,

its lights on, searching, searching deep into our ocean.

We swim ferociously until we can't breathe anymore...

Then we float until dawn.

Late Night Salvation (poem)

Late Night Salvation (c1999)

I am writing

Awe and misery combined

Into pure joy

On sheeted wood

Graphite stings my lips

And I drawl

Like a maddened ghost

The orgasmic pleasure

Of racing thoughts

Words formed in my native language

I cry

Guild is the saviour of hatred

And nothing can stop me from dreaming

I scream

Ugly forms around me

At the platform curved and straight

I laugh

Your pillows comfort like cheese and crackers

On a rainy night alone

I pinch

And toss

Wail

And growl

And at last

My desire

Is free