Friday, December 20, 2013
So the dudes at work are horny, what's the big deal?
Their level of intellect declines with each sexual thought they experience as it confounds their ability to see you as a legitimate professor if they even pretended to initially.
When another writer at Pitzer College became a writer he watered down Hemingway, Hawthorne, and Faulkner, then basted the compound with a constant exposure to his temptations with the coworkers. Some seem harder to reach than others, so I take my pick by my strong hand.
The dude was aghast that I had read Hunger, takes a double take when realizing he knows less than you do about what he shouldn't even be talking about to begin with. Their stupor with your mastery they can't mask at all.
You shoot them two looks with a stern frown, a mocking ironic half-smile, and a gynormous rolling of your pupils as you shake your head, "no, hell no." Since "no" is not going his way, he decides he will put on the pressure and persistently bother you despite having contrived a way to check from various perches around the college campus, where high visibility for vultures busily I go about the other duties that I carry.
Certain necessities remain for literature to be produced and these aren't destined to be negated where writing matures and where it advances beyond its threshold.
I stand in the light of the open door. Just past his shoulder, there's a bit of sky that might begin to pour in if not for the obstruction of a large nose, bald head, and eagle posture...ready to descend as though on talons of misused novels, memoirs, poetry was on the chopping block next.
It was not a recurring dream. Dreams at least you may rest when they are occurring. But these are the quotidian flashes of upsurging shock that's absorbed for humanity to become apprised why there makes no formidable enemy who speaks once and speaks twice yet nothing communicates.
If I am mute and without restitution, there are many lengths to travel so far, there are many lengths to travel so far.
Their level of intellect declines with each sexual thought they experience as it confounds their ability to see you as a legitimate professor if they even pretended to initially.
When another writer at Pitzer College became a writer he watered down Hemingway, Hawthorne, and Faulkner, then basted the compound with a constant exposure to his temptations with the coworkers. Some seem harder to reach than others, so I take my pick by my strong hand.
The dude was aghast that I had read Hunger, takes a double take when realizing he knows less than you do about what he shouldn't even be talking about to begin with. Their stupor with your mastery they can't mask at all.
You shoot them two looks with a stern frown, a mocking ironic half-smile, and a gynormous rolling of your pupils as you shake your head, "no, hell no." Since "no" is not going his way, he decides he will put on the pressure and persistently bother you despite having contrived a way to check from various perches around the college campus, where high visibility for vultures busily I go about the other duties that I carry.
Certain necessities remain for literature to be produced and these aren't destined to be negated where writing matures and where it advances beyond its threshold.
I stand in the light of the open door. Just past his shoulder, there's a bit of sky that might begin to pour in if not for the obstruction of a large nose, bald head, and eagle posture...ready to descend as though on talons of misused novels, memoirs, poetry was on the chopping block next.
It was not a recurring dream. Dreams at least you may rest when they are occurring. But these are the quotidian flashes of upsurging shock that's absorbed for humanity to become apprised why there makes no formidable enemy who speaks once and speaks twice yet nothing communicates.
If I am mute and without restitution, there are many lengths to travel so far, there are many lengths to travel so far.
Silence more Difficult than Language
Censorship is painful. It feels like clutch at your back and squeeze your sides.
You are frozen and you find you've become mute and motionless.
A memory has just passed through you triggered by some association aural or emotional.
There is a world outside. There is a world inside.
You can now hear with two different ears, the inner and the outer..
Someone may speak to you, but you hear only their sighs.
You forgot the reason you were having the conversation at all.
There are portions of an F.B.I. file that will be glomerated, removed from visibility
with large black brushstrokes.
Just as there are passages of my memory that contain a blanch mark that denotes
that each is a possible eruption, set-back, and return to trauma under similar stimuli.
Censorship burns what it comes into contact with.
You are frozen and you find you've become mute and motionless.
A memory has just passed through you triggered by some association aural or emotional.
There is a world outside. There is a world inside.
You can now hear with two different ears, the inner and the outer..
Someone may speak to you, but you hear only their sighs.
You forgot the reason you were having the conversation at all.
There are portions of an F.B.I. file that will be glomerated, removed from visibility
with large black brushstrokes.
Just as there are passages of my memory that contain a blanch mark that denotes
that each is a possible eruption, set-back, and return to trauma under similar stimuli.
Censorship burns what it comes into contact with.
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