Saturday, May 2, 2009

Haikus, excerpts, and other shorts

Whenever I'm in class, I rarely pay attention to what's going on. Not in an "I'm not listening" kind of way, but more of a "I've heard all this shit before" kind of way. Seriously, my classes often feel redundant - already learned the subject, I just need the credit. Already educated - just need the goddamn diploma.

However, I find ways to keep myself entertained. Besides looking at all the hot girls' pantie-lines, or eye-fucking the shit out of my current crushes, or just plain people-watching, I write in my blackbook. Nothing really intentional, just random stuff that crosses my head. I especially have a thing for haikus. Love those little fuckers. Also do a bit of doodling and cartooning too, when I feel particularly inspired to work on my stick-figures.

Here's a transcript of all the bits I wrote last semester. Enjoy!

"Soul as string picking
Soul like calloused fingertips
Soul is blue

Lemmings will scream, howl
Tongues wagging — dying worms wiggle
As I sit in class

Picking pink-red dots
Skin inflamed from shaving
I need some lotion

Water running down
The sky to fall on my head
I need a new coat

Here’s a new day
sky gray — dead fire light flickers
You shiver from cold

Crows caw echoes out
From the desks and chairs
Where there's no blackboard

Fluorescent lights paint
Yellow-white on grey faces
Nobody is awake

Pink hand lonely raised
Fingers wiggling in the air
The teacher doesn’t see

Sitting in a square
Hands bluster like bottle rockets
No one will be heard

Sat to eat today
Distraction across the way
Old classmate or crush

Fucking hell. Kill me now
I can’t stand fools who waste
My time by speaking only noise

Unity is what?
It is diversity made
One many to whole

I dream of cold air
Where you sing laughter dances
Bliss is only thought

Warm flesh rubbing close
Covers drawn across my throat
It’s just my own thighs

This is not to be questioned
This is not to be spoken at
This is only to be listened to
This is only to be heard

Who can study now?
Tonight it’s impossible

Sitting in my chair
Sweat-soaked rain-drops drunk thru pores
The teacher goes on

Form only useful for bones
Unless you can grow…

Plastic bag condom
Artificial protection
Keeps the rain outside

Everything near each other
It’s just the closeness

What’s writing the truth?
Something hidden deep below
I am not so sure

People descend, small-space-packed
I see: a trumpet, guitars, dijireedo
the sorts of all-sorts and they've got misfit misgivings
they're just my type and that's why I'm telling
because I like to write about people like me.

What is the theme song for southern California???
minor key, e, always sad, loneliness and rejection
guys talking about girls
girls talking about themselves
nobody really sings, it's a conversation but loud
they shout a lot and you can feel more than hear what they want
I know there's got to be a way to play it on my saxophone
but can a horn convey the voice and guitar strum?
I don't feel what they do (but I know it as well as my own voice, even if I can't sing it)
let's give it a try anyways. It's my home, my old life (sorta), so let's be bold and daring.

Red jacket and snow white hair, black silk stockings
flats or sandals? He has a kilt shorter than her skirt

What is excellent?
people just write too nicely
or am I jealous?

Eunoia is what? a well mind
it is excellent thinking
it is beautiful.

I was a bit late
but having to stand outside?
tolerance not here

Who's machinated? not me

Are we all robots? (robust) robots are robust
or, are we all just alive?

Eyn Sof?
No End.

Painted faces, unveil: be free.

Sexual needs deep
hot too heat (or too hot heat) flows
bones made soft and
sinew, cartilage hard
everything in-going
makes it. now I need to too.

All too much humor;
teach kicks licks to make lessons
nobody won't laugh.
– this ain't comedy hour, is it?

She wore a blue beret
red hair fell out like
fire and water

I want closed distance
I want it all to be close
why can't it be close?

Sexless doesn't mean
nonsexual, it means
I need to get laid

She'd never look at me
without good looks, fine threads
what's wanted, needed?

I've fallen in love with her neck
the collarbone

*maybe he's learning* fiction ain't no equation

Who is Shylock?
Jew-man or a boy
are the chosen ones
only old testament-bullshit?

Torture chamber or, Migraine?

She's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming she's coming, she didn't.

Potent idea: to swive
to swive is to fucking
we're swiving

From the highest hill-top
to the deepest pits
God hasn't cursed me, I guess
but I certainly don't feel blessed
this is closer to purgatory only

– who sleeps anymore? –

The living, the left behind
the bereft think of all
the days unlived – tomorrow and tomorrow

*remember Jon the Revelator*

What am I risking?
not enough to reach the edge
where's my motivation?
gone inside her voice

Golden-gate is orange
Golden-state is brown
blue, tan, white and green

I live the poetry they cannot write
I live the poetry I wish I could write
new life? or, don't write?

Incongruous, the nervous? rhythm of your feet
to the cadence of your words out coming
doesn't feel heartfelt, not well thought out

Pigeon chase is kiddy stuff
turns, evolves into a shoot-out
indiscriminate, the back, a head
then suicide jumps, stone-steps are cliffs
everything ends in death

but is there a certain meaning?
let's be completely subjective

The connection is implied
between you and me

I need a day cap

Openness allows discussion

Dark night of the soul, Baptismal Resurrection

Come in, come in! Have a seat. Would you like some
pages and paragraphs? I'm auditioning characters for my story

The community goings-on are cool.
Maybe I'll go.

Disremember: whelm?

Nobody would ever read my stuff in class
oh well, maybe I'm just not good enough?
definitely not popular

I know what you mean but
you're not saying what you mean
so, what are you saying?

Mad scientist smiles because of all this progress
but, is it?
or is it one-step forward
to go two back? Apocalypse.

How can art be a white-
painted canvas? a blank canvas
what's happened here?

How was I rejected?
It was my first try.

Can ugly be pretty?
The horrible is also

the sigh of a long suffering almost-boyfriend

polite lies

zeitgeist of your social circle

novelty intellectualism

an artist with no art form

intricacy but no susbstance


lucy, the devil inside every woman

appropriating working class symbolism for their own self-respect and street cred,
taking originality and indviduality till it's meaningless and moving on to the next

cold seabreeze onshore windbreaks
heatstroke on my sunburn

the art work has a lot of detail, bleach on black canvas
lots of pale pink (or off white?) and the people here -
they come late, only for the pussy and dick, only for pre-game show,
because what else do you do on a wednesday night?

tonight's open-mic is a shoot-out, a regular wild western. so many singer-songwriters. if guitarists were gunslingers, there'd be a whole lot of dead amateurs

still kids - i can recall being them and trying hard, never payed off...
but maybe other ways, something intangible
7-11 lunch jams, sunday beach begging gigs,
fake/bought/bribed/guilted fans
creative finances, it's always been fun

a massive gathering of derelicts, rejects, and the morbidly fascinated
audience who luaghs and agrees but doesn't know what's actually happening.
someone blares on a mic, ambiguous lyrics or a message, and someone
tells us, "fuck conformity." - artists like this give art a bad name

i'll catch you, if you stumble
i'll pick you up, if you fall
but if you just quit, then what can i do except watch?

something, a scene, inside an elevator

anything past 6 feet and you're just fucking tall – jodet

it's not that I want to think about you all the time, you're just my default memory, my fallback thought. when there's no one else there's you."

4 footnotes:

Lex said...

Wow...this is boredom at it's most creative point. I'm not too wild when it comes to being bored in class, I like making lists (which I then love to complete and cross out). Lists for everything: what assignments I need to do, what groceries I need to buy, who I need to call or go see...lists are just fabulous. And this is cool, nice to track what little imaginings are going through your mind every day...for an entire semester....

Jessica said...

Random thoughts are wonderful, especially when put eloquently. I really liked reading these.

Zek J Evets said...

@jess: awww, thanks kiddo.

@lex: i used to do lists too, but then i was always forgetting about them, this defeating the purpose of listing.

maybe i'll post my random thoughts from in class for an entire year? haha

TeenCreeps said...

i agree with making lists...i love making them sometimes ill just put random shit on them....

the last one was my favorite you are my default memory