One last new one for a bit and I'll let the thread make it's merry way for a couple days...
LOL, maybe.
I wrote this next piece as a direct response to a challenge issued by an old friend of mine asking me to write a piece specifically to torture the English classes of the future. I did so. And it's as stuffy and pretentious as it ought to be, while maintaining SOME semblance of beauty, but barely. LOL
seta
MOTHER OF PEARL/reception
And yet another earthly patron
Wears the gilded and bejeweled crown of time upon their head
The cross of which is borne upon shoulders bronzed
With glinted grace
And a passing ecstasy
She whispered lips visible
Pale and plush
“Greetings”
The clap of a shoulder
The receipt of a gift
Flare
Smoke
Chat
Farewells
Time treated as crusted limestone
A petrified wood rare and iridescent
Opalescent
A soapstone to be carved into destiny
And worn away by the touch of thousands
Into naught but the delta shores
Teeming with the twilight of the new day
Where one sees more than the smile
And holds more than the grace
Where time walks with cane and haunted expression
And the world stands in place.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Originally posted by setaside2 One last new one for a bit and I'll let the thread make it's merry way for a couple days...
LOL, maybe.
I wrote this next piece as a direct response to a challenge issued by an old friend of mine asking me to write a piece specifically to torture the English classes of the future. I did so. And it's as stuffy and pretentious as it ought to be, while maintaining SOME semblance of beauty, but barely. LOL
seta
MOTHER OF PEARL/reception
And yet another earthly patron
Wears the gilded and bejeweled crown of time upon their head
The cross of which is borne upon shoulders bronzed
With glinted grace
And a passing ecstasy
She whispered lips visible
Pale and plush
“Greetings”
The clap of a shoulder
The receipt of a gift
Flare
Smoke
Chat
Farewells
Time treated as crusted limestone
A petrified wood rare and iridescent
Opalescent
A soapstone to be carved into destiny
And worn away by the touch of thousands
Into naught but the delta shores
Teeming with the twilight of the new day
Where one sees more than the smile
And holds more than the grace
Where time walks with cane and haunted expression
And the world stands in place.
you are a genious...wait how do u spell genious, well i gess i am not one
hurting is felt
my neck in a belt
i couldn't help
but to remember myself.
...
lightning flashes
from my eyes blood splashes
clotting the gashes
and clouding my glasses.
Last Exit, that one's a little intense for me as that is exactly how my best friend killed herself back in high school. It is a very decent piece of PROSE, heh, and it makes me remember... Which isn't a bad thing. I was kind of hoping that she might still be watching over me from time to time.
seta
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Mission accomplished: it is torture
I'm jus' fuckin' witchya.
Does have a Renaissancey spicey sintax lyricism thing a-happening.
Suggestion though: maybe rework the last three lines into a rhyming triplet:
Where one sees more than the smile
And holds more than the grace.
Where time walks with haunted face.
And the world stands lonely in place.
"Time walks with cane" is too easy for me, but I like the haunted expression impression . . . sans the word "expression." That violates your court mandated two syllable judgment anyway.
DAMN YOU AND YOUR PROBATIONARY TERMS. You tell the magistrate that he can take his thesaurus and go straight to the fires of hell! THE FIRES of DAMNATION I TELL YOU.
And it is even further more ironic that you should post that last verse because at one point it was like that, almost word for word, but it was decided that it would be tougher for the English student to figure out WHY I broke the iambic movement. Why did I decide to blow the tempo? Can you see it? The horror. And the english professor telling them exactly why I did it, when even THEY don't have a friggin' clue. LOVE it.
Oh and it's not like I don't like this piece, I do. I like it a great deal, I think it has presence. There is an accompanying piece written about English Professors and their terrorist tactics that I'll post in here once I get it typed up. It's a powerhouse piece of multi-syllabic montage that will most certainly get me banned from this forum, if I haven't been already.
seta
ps fuck with me again, and I'll even revoke your CREED privileges, you'll be stuck listening to CHUMBAWUMBA for the remainder of your sentence. And that, my friend, is madness I tell you. Madness.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
No dredging up or shit-assing here... It is necessary, to be human.
And it is fun. No doubt. I like it a great deal that people read my stuff and hopefully come away with something different. It means a lot to me that the stuff I write affects people. Everytime I post here I am essentially asking... do you like my thoughts? do you like my dreams? what do you think about your thoughts? where are your dreams? amongst other things. It all SOUNDS cheesy, I know, but introspection and philosophy were the building blocks of many a great creation, and they certainly contrived to inspire some of the greatest acheivements in mankind's history. Otherwise, growth remains in all directions and even if I've affected someone negatively, i.e. they fucking HATE it, it still affected them, whether they like it or not.
I used to spend a lot of time working on my environmental awareness. I took a lot of pride in knowing that if I was walking down a sidewalk and someone stepped aside for me, that I had changed their day, in a subtle manner to be sure, but that is the case. And the realization that I was aware of them as a human being and how I was caused to ponder them and their lives as I continued into the city, certainly changed me. I am continuously fascinated by the little things in human daily events.
I guess that's that. LOL there I go again.
seta
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
In irony we shall taste the bitter rustblood of life's defiance of our needs in favor of our wants.
NEW PRAYER/for the honor of pennyroyal tea
bring it down… the house surround...
angels wings the flight around
acoustic tile the heart so loud
the love the push the cry the crowd
debris, the slats of picketfence,
the cyclone shudders, cowed
the arms of greatness -the cry of the babe-
the king’s plush carpet begins to fade,
a myth:
make the ethereal way, make your ethereal way
the song is your term
spring explodes and autumn slides by
winter undermines, its own melting tide
the love the push the cry the crowd
the hands, the ground.
dirt the scent, the rose, the sound…
what the sensual takes the tactile will give
the sigh itself will find a way to live
again
the cry the love the push of the crowd
why, the guilty are bled and intensely bound
the rose in bloom
they arose, in bloom, now,
the sigh in the ear
the circle has come
and the life is found.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
However, gendrifically speaking, I believe sir would be most appropriate. Unless you aren't speaking to ME in which case you may call me whatever you wish.
Marc works for most people, and I do tend to answer to it. Mostly.
I hope that you liked it. and I can't thank you ENOUGH for reading it. Sincerely.
oh.. and you're welcome. I hope. I hope.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Originally posted by sevensins crazy.....my names mark
LOL
j/k
you can call me seta. It also seems to work and I know people in the REAL WORLD (not the tv show) who call me that now. I also have been trained to answer to whatever form of my PJ handle you can think of, save the really gross ones. You shalt remain the MARK of this board. And I shall remain the seta.
Easy. Sick and twisted, but easy.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
when birds flock to destiny the pecking order diminishes to just one.
and when they are full, and they are difficult to satiate, they stand around eyeing the remains of your freedom, suspicious of any sort of movement, awaiting the moment that life may return from it's fleeing flight. You are the bait in this modern world of mechanical sight and where man's imitations of nature are vinyl, polystyrene, and tupperware.
the natural cozy is gone. the lightning captured in a cup. no force greater than the push of the air in a subway tunnel, cannonball ejection the only chance for survival.
and if you hit the moon? what then?
I don't blame you little astronaut, your breath was caught in the troposphere.
These days the whirlwinds and dust devils are obligatory child's play as we rush to draw upon each other for the wisdom to predict whether our weather and which witch is which. I drew, I bled, and my needle, my pencil, they litter the sand.
So careless of me.
I had forgotten to allow for gravity in my life or death equation.
Algebraic love. It's so formal, so dedicated.
One is left to trust the one given solution in a multiple choice arena, nothing but twisted numerics and negatives. God bless the wicked blank page,
the tempation of starting over,
the newest of new car scents and the open road.
It always smells as though someone discovered their soul or somesuch, which really doesn't make sense,
you know, because you find yourself looking down at the odometer and it says like "23 miles."
That car hasn't been anywhere but down the paths of your mind.
But then, the idea sets you off about possibilities, man, the future intrinsic to any new purchase...
Was it the excitement? The adrenaline or pheromone rush of owning something so powerful as even a 4 cylinder? The feeling of "I OWN this country by the THROAT. I'm throttling that bastard." You grip the keys and you are in love for the first time, the skies livid with whatever metaphor you would wish to place upon them, the wind in the hair... these things are so trite, you think, so unoriginal, but who can deny the feeling? Who can deny the pleasure and pain of being self and being human and being in love and just DRIVING THAT FUCKER DOWN THE ROAD not looking back once? It's amazing, the feel of things.
It's the vibration, the jerk, the motion, the rerun, the replay. It's being reborn on a leather dashboard. There is beauty to the speed and an elegance in the way it is nigh impossible to tear your eyes from the sights:
The ribbons! The ticker tape! A homecoming hero on his way to lunch. So ethereal, he practically fades in the backlit dust beyond the garden, if only bending to take in the slight, sweet fragrance of the ever-so-common dandelion. Living was never so enthralling. Liberation never so poignant.
Can you breathe?
Caution, carmine, cinnamon, cimarron...
The birds are moving.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Some people have to have the sultry evenings Cocktails in the blue, red and grey But I like every minute of the day.
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
Some people have to have the sultry evenings Cocktails in the blue, red and grey But I like every minute of the day.
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
Some people have to have the sultry evenings Cocktails in the blue, red and grey But I like every minute of the day.
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
okay boys.. now this was all nice and sweet until someone (ahem) suggested I write for an automobile name brand manufactured by some other autombile name brand. I tell you that smacks of poisonous treason and treachery, the thought.
And Radar, I'd like you to keep your opinions to yourself about my yang. As for the yin, it's not my fault it was cheaper last year and you only picked one up last week.
Off to apartment hunt.
seta
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Originally posted by setaside2
LOL do you like me? Do you really like me?
k, first of all, you gave me total crap on that line just a couple weeks ago! so BITE ME!!
secondly, i REALLY like this last piece. i could follow it, which i'm proud of. it's inspirational. makes me want my roadtrip to happen more than ever.
thirdly...if you DO indeed end up writing for Lexus, keep in mind my favorite car is the SC430.
Originally posted by setaside2 Do you really like me?
Okay, Sally Field, upon receiving her second Academy Award for Places in the Heart, "You like me!! Right now! You like me!!!"
Sorry you're feeling poorly. No doubt you're delirious from fever for asking such an "actressy" question. As Obi-Wan said to Luke: "Rest easy, son. You've had a busy day. You're lucky to be all in one piece."
Hope you weren't assaulted by Tusken Raiders, by the way.
I marvel at your written elocution
I marvel at your inviting openness
I marvel at comics (get it?)
You know that the sorry fact for that woman is that is all she will ever be remembered for.
I withdraw the questions. I was making a play on the poor girl and now I see that I should have said something more natural such as "Have a pop tart!" or "Fuck you!"
LOL
So have a pop tart.
And thanks baba fett. I appreciate the compliments and the love. I certainly FEEL assaulted by Tusken Raiders. No doubt.
You know what though? Old Obi Wan was a liar and a bender of truths. Not only that but he is responsible for all continuity issues between the pts 1-3 and New Hope-Jedi. He should be stoned, if he wasn't already dead, dammit.
Why can we no longer trust our modern myths? Is it CGI? Twinkies? I wish I knew.
ahhh the delirious ramblings of the sick setaside. gotta love that.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
I fell in love with the perfect love, had it in my hands.
She fell in love with the same love, I had her in my hands.
But she ran scared and pretended to ignorance, though it shouted from the fucking SKY that we were one. I had it all and yet I had none.
I became impatient. It hurt to stay. My poetry had said all it had to say and she was in love with me not just on THAT day but on every other. It became apparent that I loved her. And it became apparent that her fear of loss and her fear of love and her fear of US one day splitting the dark, was bonding her to individuality, to her worries.
We never officially dated, no. People asked us when we were getting hitched, married, tying the knot, and we would laugh and tell them "Tomorrow. How did you know?" I wasn't strong enough to grab tomorrow by her jaunty pony tailed hair and pull her into today. So... I let her stray.
Oh we stayed friends and things were fine until I told her that someone ELSE was mine and that Tomorrow was on its way. Her big brown eyes grew wide and misty as she realized the the twine she had laid down in the cave to my heart had somehow vanished behind her, in her fear she had run so far and so fast that the thread had simply run out.
Yet I loved her still. How could I not? Jazz singin, she didn't walk by god she GLIDES, smoothest voice since Ella Fitzgerald and a piano to haunt the Monk. She was my muse, my goddess, and I am certain that somewhere out there or deep within me, she still maintains a certain... stock in that position; but only after Tomorrow came and went did she decide she loved me and wanted me and that she had LOST her little game of going tharn or running with fear at her heels.
And yes, she tried, and I had my chance at last. The ability to take her home and make her mine was in my grasp and I trembled at the touch. I have never wanted anything in my life so much. But Tomorrow was past, the vote was cast, and I had to set her free on broken heart and shaking legs. My mind still reels from that night, as she drove off into the streetlight strewn roadways of suburbia.
It appears that I had been chasing a Jazz Singer in a Ford Escort for so long, I never noticed the sound of her silence and the depth of her absence. I did then.
Now, after 6 years into tomorrowmorrowland, I find myself splitting the dark with my current captor. She of high infidelity and broken trust, I was no better than three other boys and I find myself thinking what I may have done, where my karma set astray... and I often wonder if my karma followed my love home that day.
They say that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all... this may be so but one must be prepared; for if you lose that, if you let it go in some faux heroic act of semi-nobility, be prepared for the search for the next one who could only fill that hole so deep in your mind, that addiction so intense in your soul. It's caffeine and viagra. It's honeycomb and cinnamon. It's the candle that lights the curtains on fire in the midst of heavenly throes.
You will search and you will not feel whole. She of my downtown soliloquy.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Who was this someone ELSE? Were you trying to make KS envious by loving someone else so she would run up, bitchslap your new love, and say, "Take me NOW you sexual seta God!"?
The someone else is the woman who turned into my wife, and unfortunately the woman I am now in process of separation and divorce, though I have not moved out.
in this piece, Tomorrow = wedding/marriage
Never wanted to make Kate jealous, ever. I just felt that I had put it all out on the table and that she had looked at it but had been afraid to take what gifts were hers.
We were young, it was divine love, I kid you not, and that is the scariest, deepest, most intense version I have yet to find. She was the "one". As they say. I don't know, they say a lot of things, mouth always runnin'.
I was too much of a coward to just grab her in that cheesy gone with the wind type pose and tell her about tomorrow. It really is just another day. LOL :(
that's that.
I cannot believe I'm telling you all this. Seta is one messed up little poet.
I'm stepping in front of the gushing hydrant in a hurricane. I'd like to see the traction I keep.
Comments
LOL, maybe.
I wrote this next piece as a direct response to a challenge issued by an old friend of mine asking me to write a piece specifically to torture the English classes of the future. I did so. And it's as stuffy and pretentious as it ought to be, while maintaining SOME semblance of beauty, but barely. LOL
seta
MOTHER OF PEARL/reception
And yet another earthly patron
Wears the gilded and bejeweled crown of time upon their head
The cross of which is borne upon shoulders bronzed
With glinted grace
And a passing ecstasy
She whispered lips visible
Pale and plush
“Greetings”
The clap of a shoulder
The receipt of a gift
Flare
Smoke
Chat
Farewells
Time treated as crusted limestone
A petrified wood rare and iridescent
Opalescent
A soapstone to be carved into destiny
And worn away by the touch of thousands
Into naught but the delta shores
Teeming with the twilight of the new day
Where one sees more than the smile
And holds more than the grace
Where time walks with cane and haunted expression
And the world stands in place.
you are a genious...wait how do u spell genious, well i gess i am not one
http://www.myspace.com/alotalotbetweenus
Last Exit, that one's a little intense for me as that is exactly how my best friend killed herself back in high school. It is a very decent piece of PROSE, heh, and it makes me remember... Which isn't a bad thing. I was kind of hoping that she might still be watching over me from time to time.
seta
Mission accomplished: it is torture
I'm jus' fuckin' witchya.
Does have a Renaissancey spicey sintax lyricism thing a-happening.
Suggestion though: maybe rework the last three lines into a rhyming triplet:
Where one sees more than the smile
And holds more than the grace.
Where time walks with haunted face.
And the world stands lonely in place.
"Time walks with cane" is too easy for me, but I like the haunted expression impression . . . sans the word "expression." That violates your court mandated two syllable judgment anyway.
DAMN YOU AND YOUR PROBATIONARY TERMS. You tell the magistrate that he can take his thesaurus and go straight to the fires of hell! THE FIRES of DAMNATION I TELL YOU.
And it is even further more ironic that you should post that last verse because at one point it was like that, almost word for word, but it was decided that it would be tougher for the English student to figure out WHY I broke the iambic movement. Why did I decide to blow the tempo? Can you see it? The horror. And the english professor telling them exactly why I did it, when even THEY don't have a friggin' clue.
Oh and it's not like I don't like this piece, I do. I like it a great deal, I think it has presence. There is an accompanying piece written about English Professors and their terrorist tactics that I'll post in here once I get it typed up. It's a powerhouse piece of multi-syllabic montage that will most certainly get me banned from this forum, if I haven't been already.
seta
ps fuck with me again, and I'll even revoke your CREED privileges, you'll be stuck listening to CHUMBAWUMBA for the remainder of your sentence. And that, my friend, is madness I tell you. Madness.
p.s.
it's genius
No dredging up or shit-assing here... It is necessary, to be human.
And it is fun. No doubt. I like it a great deal that people read my stuff and hopefully come away with something different. It means a lot to me that the stuff I write affects people. Everytime I post here I am essentially asking... do you like my thoughts? do you like my dreams? what do you think about your thoughts? where are your dreams? amongst other things. It all SOUNDS cheesy, I know, but introspection and philosophy were the building blocks of many a great creation, and they certainly contrived to inspire some of the greatest acheivements in mankind's history. Otherwise, growth remains in all directions and even if I've affected someone negatively, i.e. they fucking HATE it, it still affected them, whether they like it or not.
I used to spend a lot of time working on my environmental awareness. I took a lot of pride in knowing that if I was walking down a sidewalk and someone stepped aside for me, that I had changed their day, in a subtle manner to be sure, but that is the case. And the realization that I was aware of them as a human being and how I was caused to ponder them and their lives as I continued into the city, certainly changed me. I am continuously fascinated by the little things in human daily events.
I guess that's that. LOL there I go again.
seta
NEW PRAYER/for the honor of pennyroyal tea
bring it down… the house surround...
angels wings the flight around
acoustic tile the heart so loud
the love the push the cry the crowd
debris, the slats of picketfence,
the cyclone shudders, cowed
the arms of greatness -the cry of the babe-
the king’s plush carpet begins to fade,
a myth:
make the ethereal way, make your ethereal way
the song is your term
spring explodes and autumn slides by
winter undermines, its own melting tide
the love the push the cry the crowd
the hands, the ground.
dirt the scent, the rose, the sound…
what the sensual takes the tactile will give
the sigh itself will find a way to live
again
the cry the love the push of the crowd
why, the guilty are bled and intensely bound
the rose in bloom
they arose, in bloom, now,
the sigh in the ear
the circle has come
and the life is found.
http://www.myspace.com/alotalotbetweenus
Marc works for most people, and I do tend to answer to it. Mostly.
I hope that you liked it. and I can't thank you ENOUGH for reading it. Sincerely.
oh.. and you're welcome. I hope. I hope.
http://www.myspace.com/alotalotbetweenus
LOL
j/k
you can call me seta. It also seems to work and I know people in the REAL WORLD (not the tv show) who call me that now. I also have been trained to answer to whatever form of my PJ handle you can think of, save the really gross ones. You shalt remain the MARK of this board. And I shall remain the seta.
Easy. Sick and twisted, but easy.
watch it...
when birds flock to destiny the pecking order diminishes to just one.
and when they are full, and they are difficult to satiate, they stand around eyeing the remains of your freedom, suspicious of any sort of movement, awaiting the moment that life may return from it's fleeing flight. You are the bait in this modern world of mechanical sight and where man's imitations of nature are vinyl, polystyrene, and tupperware.
the natural cozy is gone. the lightning captured in a cup. no force greater than the push of the air in a subway tunnel, cannonball ejection the only chance for survival.
and if you hit the moon? what then?
I don't blame you little astronaut, your breath was caught in the troposphere.
These days the whirlwinds and dust devils are obligatory child's play as we rush to draw upon each other for the wisdom to predict whether our weather and which witch is which. I drew, I bled, and my needle, my pencil, they litter the sand.
So careless of me.
I had forgotten to allow for gravity in my life or death equation.
Algebraic love. It's so formal, so dedicated.
One is left to trust the one given solution in a multiple choice arena, nothing but twisted numerics and negatives. God bless the wicked blank page,
the tempation of starting over,
the newest of new car scents and the open road.
It always smells as though someone discovered their soul or somesuch, which really doesn't make sense,
you know, because you find yourself looking down at the odometer and it says like "23 miles."
That car hasn't been anywhere but down the paths of your mind.
But then, the idea sets you off about possibilities, man, the future intrinsic to any new purchase...
Was it the excitement? The adrenaline or pheromone rush of owning something so powerful as even a 4 cylinder? The feeling of "I OWN this country by the THROAT. I'm throttling that bastard." You grip the keys and you are in love for the first time, the skies livid with whatever metaphor you would wish to place upon them, the wind in the hair... these things are so trite, you think, so unoriginal, but who can deny the feeling? Who can deny the pleasure and pain of being self and being human and being in love and just DRIVING THAT FUCKER DOWN THE ROAD not looking back once? It's amazing, the feel of things.
It's the vibration, the jerk, the motion, the rerun, the replay. It's being reborn on a leather dashboard. There is beauty to the speed and an elegance in the way it is nigh impossible to tear your eyes from the sights:
The ribbons! The ticker tape! A homecoming hero on his way to lunch. So ethereal, he practically fades in the backlit dust beyond the garden, if only bending to take in the slight, sweet fragrance of the ever-so-common dandelion. Living was never so enthralling. Liberation never so poignant.
Can you breathe?
Caution, carmine, cinnamon, cimarron...
The birds are moving.
You have inspired me.
I can only bow and say thank you.
Thank you. Very much.
as usual
marvellous words
enough said
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
squeel
INTER-FUCKING-MISSION!!!
Newcastle-Riverside 02/22/92!!!
E.rutherford New Jersey 01/06/06
Athens -Greece.survived !barely-
Wembley 18/06/07- no words- just smiles!
And Radar, I'd like you to keep your opinions to yourself about my yang. As for the yin, it's not my fault it was cheaper last year and you only picked one up last week.
Off to apartment hunt.
seta
LOL do you like me? Do you really like me?
k, first of all, you gave me total crap on that line just a couple weeks ago! so BITE ME!!
secondly, i REALLY like this last piece. i could follow it, which i'm proud of. it's inspirational. makes me want my roadtrip to happen more than ever.
thirdly...if you DO indeed end up writing for Lexus, keep in mind my favorite car is the SC430.
hehe
Okay, Sally Field, upon receiving her second Academy Award for Places in the Heart, "You like me!! Right now! You like me!!!"
Sorry you're feeling poorly. No doubt you're delirious from fever for asking such an "actressy" question. As Obi-Wan said to Luke: "Rest easy, son. You've had a busy day. You're lucky to be all in one piece."
Hope you weren't assaulted by Tusken Raiders, by the way.
I marvel at your written elocution
I marvel at your inviting openness
I marvel at comics (get it?)
Now shut up and go to sleep.
I withdraw the questions.
LOL
So have a pop tart.
And thanks baba fett. I appreciate the compliments and the love. I certainly FEEL assaulted by Tusken Raiders. No doubt.
You know what though? Old Obi Wan was a liar and a bender of truths. Not only that but he is responsible for all continuity issues between the pts 1-3 and New Hope-Jedi. He should be stoned, if he wasn't already dead, dammit.
Why can we no longer trust our modern myths? Is it CGI? Twinkies? I wish I knew.
ahhh the delirious ramblings of the sick setaside. gotta love that.
re:1996
I fell in love with the perfect love, had it in my hands.
She fell in love with the same love, I had her in my hands.
But she ran scared and pretended to ignorance, though it shouted from the fucking SKY that we were one. I had it all and yet I had none.
I became impatient. It hurt to stay. My poetry had said all it had to say and she was in love with me not just on THAT day but on every other. It became apparent that I loved her. And it became apparent that her fear of loss and her fear of love and her fear of US one day splitting the dark, was bonding her to individuality, to her worries.
We never officially dated, no. People asked us when we were getting hitched, married, tying the knot, and we would laugh and tell them "Tomorrow. How did you know?" I wasn't strong enough to grab tomorrow by her jaunty pony tailed hair and pull her into today. So... I let her stray.
Oh we stayed friends and things were fine until I told her that someone ELSE was mine and that Tomorrow was on its way. Her big brown eyes grew wide and misty as she realized the the twine she had laid down in the cave to my heart had somehow vanished behind her, in her fear she had run so far and so fast that the thread had simply run out.
Yet I loved her still. How could I not? Jazz singin, she didn't walk by god she GLIDES, smoothest voice since Ella Fitzgerald and a piano to haunt the Monk. She was my muse, my goddess, and I am certain that somewhere out there or deep within me, she still maintains a certain... stock in that position; but only after Tomorrow came and went did she decide she loved me and wanted me and that she had LOST her little game of going tharn or running with fear at her heels.
And yes, she tried, and I had my chance at last. The ability to take her home and make her mine was in my grasp and I trembled at the touch. I have never wanted anything in my life so much. But Tomorrow was past, the vote was cast, and I had to set her free on broken heart and shaking legs. My mind still reels from that night, as she drove off into the streetlight strewn roadways of suburbia.
It appears that I had been chasing a Jazz Singer in a Ford Escort for so long, I never noticed the sound of her silence and the depth of her absence. I did then.
Now, after 6 years into tomorrowmorrowland, I find myself splitting the dark with my current captor. She of high infidelity and broken trust, I was no better than three other boys and I find myself thinking what I may have done, where my karma set astray... and I often wonder if my karma followed my love home that day.
They say that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all... this may be so but one must be prepared; for if you lose that, if you let it go in some faux heroic act of semi-nobility, be prepared for the search for the next one who could only fill that hole so deep in your mind, that addiction so intense in your soul. It's caffeine and viagra. It's honeycomb and cinnamon. It's the candle that lights the curtains on fire in the midst of heavenly throes.
You will search and you will not feel whole. She of my downtown soliloquy.
Who was this someone ELSE? Were you trying to make KS envious by loving someone else so she would run up, bitchslap your new love, and say, "Take me NOW you sexual seta God!"?
in this piece, Tomorrow = wedding/marriage
Never wanted to make Kate jealous, ever. I just felt that I had put it all out on the table and that she had looked at it but had been afraid to take what gifts were hers.
We were young, it was divine love, I kid you not, and that is the scariest, deepest, most intense version I have yet to find. She was the "one". As they say. I don't know, they say a lot of things, mouth always runnin'.
I was too much of a coward to just grab her in that cheesy gone with the wind type pose and tell her about tomorrow. It really is just another day. LOL :(
that's that.
I cannot believe I'm telling you all this. Seta is one messed up little poet.
much love for the Seta.