Au Weh.

So many good ideas that I have read in this batch of papers, just poor, poor execution. Such a sad tragedy to read an opportunity wasted.

A Tale of Pike Place

From my blog at AngeLingo:

For my first blog post on our newly redesigned site, I find it perfectly fitting to tell you the tale of my maiden voyage to THE ORIGINAL STARBUCKS. Perhaps I did not emphasize that enough.

The Original Starbucks

 

My tale begins with three college students piling into my roommate(Leigh!)’s car at the wee, early hour of 9:00am. After many miles of sleeping traveling, from city to city and climate to climate, the three students arrive at Berkeley (read: sssssssss) for room and board–specifically couches and the most amazing bread from a small restaurant named La Note.

P.S. I’m just kidding about the sssssssss thing. Between football seasons, I ♥ Berkeley.

Two days of glorious fun in San Francisco pass, of which include miniature tales of dinosaurs, skulls, middle-of-nowhere-sushi, bar hopping, drinking, Saint Patty’s Day celebrations, Leigh purposefully provoking a debate with Brandice so she does not freak out that she is under millions of tons of water in a NON-WATERPROOF tram-thing, and much much more.

Alas, after many more miles of traveling and mountainous driving, the three students arrive in Seattle, which is where our real tale begins…

The first scheduled tourist destination is Pike Place, which for all of those unfamiliar with Seattle, really just means PIKE PLACE STARBUCKS, AKA:

The Original Starbucks

 

Well, maybe it is the Farmer’s Market of Seattle… but Pike Place is the home of the very first Starbucks EVER. And really this post is just an excuse venue for me to post pictures and brag because anybody who knows me will name my Starbucks addiction as one of my most defining qualities.

As we are walking through the quirky Pike Place, which smells of fish and fish, I see it. There. Without being told this is the original Starbucks (because I am retarded and failed to correlate Pike Place Roast with PIKE PLACE BEING THE HOME OF THE ORIGINAL STARBUCKS), I know. I know this Starbucks must be the first, the original. I walk near the intimidating yet welcoming entrance, one foot slowly following the other, and then stand in awe below the historic ugly siren. (←Must read link to your left)

 

 

Immediately upon stepping within the store’s handsomely aged walls, my nostrils fill with the sublime and heavenly smell of… well, STARBUCKS COFFEE. (Geez, what did you expect?) I approach the counter and, with my heart fluttering, order my usual–yet it is completely unusual and intoxicating.  Then magically from across the store my drink appears. 

 

 

A Grande Peppermint Mocha Frappuccino just for me. With a beautiful covering of mocha drizzle, also just for me. The first sip, as it moves from cup to straw to tongue, tastes of complete delight. The frappuccino’s pure magic elicits this behavior:

 

 

The End.

Wing’d Muse Murder Most Foul

Rain falls
Seas of droplets
Across my blank pages
A crime scene

 Vacant
A baron wasteland
Of forgotten metaphors
Artistic license expunged
A Candyland of imagery
Erased
To make way for my new logically sound mind

 Rationality
Clarity
Boring-plainness-pain-in-the-ass-concreteness
A coercion of writing
Without my bouquets of abstract-gushing words
A murder most foul

 My fountain dried up
Biological clock, ticked
My hand, forced
My muse, murdered
Its wings ripped
Heart pierced
By logical barriers’ arrow

Childplay

Spinning, turning
All topsy-turvy
The merry-goes-round until you puke
Faster, faster!
Don’t look to the ground
Nausea
Look down and you’ll surely fail
Depression looks with avid eyes
Paste on a smile
Sooner or later the top has to slow
Then the top topples over
And crashing down you will go

The Revolving Door

Again, reincarnated
Reborn from the dead
My sick mind’s own samsara
Recycling your soul
My brokenness
Piercing, gutting pain
Peel the flesh away
Reveal the scars
Wounded tissues, never healed

Bitch
A perpetual her
One more
Queue in the endless shells of
The notorious female

My heart
I leave it lying
To be broken at your will

 

 

The Art of Lying

I possessed no positive words for the evil institution that held me captive and subjected me to IQ-sucking dealings, if it may be privileged with such a description. Ideally I would have been allowed to terminate my association with the school and town entirely at the first possible moment; however, because of various pressures my engagement with a microphone and the devil himself could not be avoided. Though I truly would have preferred to abstain from the entire graduation ceremony proceedings, I regret not delivering a speech of truth to the thousands of eyes whose audience I maintained for a precious indefinite interval of time, for I could have revealed to the naive the corrupt and inhibiting environment of which they refer to as a legitimate educational system. Instead I, as a coward, ironically yet hollowly relayed The Art of War, Sun Tzu’s message of victory and principle, for a mere three and a half minutes…

For the complete text, visit my page “The Art of Lying”
http://scanties.wordpress.com/the-art-of-lying/

“Violence of the Lambs”, Not Without Controversy

“The greatest threat to civilization in the next half century is not nuclear arms or global warming or a superresistant virus that will wipe us out by the millions.  John Jeremiah Sullivan contemplates the coming battle between man and best.” 

In one of my classes (for which I should be writing a paper; however, I am squandering my time writing other things…) we are discussing culture jamming.  While in a biology lecture (neither indulging in cell membrane communication nor researching a paper topic for the aforementioned class) I happened upon this article in an old issue of GQ (I am behind in my periodical reading).  I know, I know…GQ.  But! This article demands attention, and it certainly claims its fair share in blogs and online journalism.  John Jeremiah Sullivan exquisitely writes with sophistication, purpose, and yes a little trickery, but who does not enjoy a quality piece of literary prank now and then?  The article foreshadows the near future, years when man and beast rival for ownership of land and resources, years that Sullivan predicts loom not too far ahead.  I have listed some links with fair discussions of the article; however, I advise first reading the actual article before its criticism so as not to spoil the punchline.

The article: Sullivan, John Jeremiah. “Violence of the Lambs.” Gentlemen’s Quarterly Feb. 2008.

 Noteworthy links:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/02/04/AR2008020402772.html

http://stevereads.blogspot.com/2008/01/in-penny-press.html

http://outside-blog.away.com/blog/2008/01/gorillas-pissed.html