Tag Archives: culture

selections from Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

“She’ll come back and be a serious Americanah like Bisi,” Ranyinudo said.

They roared with laughter, at that word “Americanah,” wreathed in glee, the fourth syllable extended, and at the thought of Bisi, a girl in the form below them, who had come back from a short trip to America with odd affectations, pretending she no longer understood Yoruba, adding a slurred r to every English word she spoke. (78) Continue reading

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Michael Pollan’s Food Rules

Eat food. Mostly plants. Not too much. Continue reading

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half of what i say is meaningless

three more days of work. less than three weeks until New York.

then: more than half a year of walking.

now? every moment a melding of dream and reality.

my lover lies at my side sleeping. i am in her bed, our bed… in her house, my house. we are not married nor engaged, and yet i have never felt such strong conviction in my love. if possible, it is deeper or more all-encompassing than conviction. it is decision, resolution, revelation.

the past few days, i have been moving so many boxes. boxes of records, boxes of clothes, boxes of bullshit. so many goddamn boxes. the modern age is all about acquiring things and putting them in boxes. in fact, we adore boxes so much that we live in boxes ourselves. and yet we wonder why cats care so much about boxes.

after leaving the office today, i boarded a railbound box headed downtown and immediately recognized a pretty little lady sitting near the window. she smiled at me and i smiled back almost laughing, wondering whether she would come over for a chat.

“Julia?”

“wow, you remember my name.”

“ronny.”

“oh man i was gonna say ‘ron!'”

this simple dialogue is a big deal for me. i can remember names. Julia’s a girl from Ohio who’d recently moved to San Francisco. i learned this when, a couple months ago, i caught her eyeing me on the same muni train after work. when i asked what was up, she confessed her admiration for my reading Charles Darwin’s “Origin of Species,” almost word-for-word in the way that other girl once talked to me on muni about my reading Einstein. in any case, Julia and i talked about a bunch of things that first time, including how i should listen to Lauren O’Connell and read Aldo Leopold’s “Sand County Almanac.”

in today’s encounter, things went even deeper. in less than ten minutes, we went from Emily Dickinson poetry (because of the book in my hand) to feminism. we talked about how women in business try to speak in lower voices so men take them seriously and we talked about why guys don’t wear dresses. and we talked about how those things ultimately represent the next great hurdle in gender equality. so far gender equality has been about bringing women to the same level as men… but… what if that’s incredibly short-sighted? what if true equality requires a complete rethinking and restructuring of the way the world functions, from business to culture to art? perhaps we shall never know harmony until we understand and appreciate the beauty in both femininity and masculinity and how to entwine the two, instead of just focusing on granting masculine powers to feminine beings.

Julia wrote her mailing address on a post-it note so i could send her postcards from the walk. i predict she will be a beautiful, wondrous friend for the future. i hope!

last night, four whole nights after discussing the nature of lucid dreams w friends, i traversed a vivid dream world. the beginning, or what i recall as the beginning, took on the tone of a gory bloodbath from a Blizzard game. except i, sword in hand, experienced the grotesque, poisonous attacks of mutalisks in the first-person. what seemed like an era later, i found myself at the very same site of that battle as it appeared at a later, more peaceful date. it was now a mansion surrounded on all sides by walls of junk. i wandered among the dusty corridors a warrior still, and attempted to scale the junkyard with a trusted German Shepherd at my side (who in the dream i called Kaiser though he looked more American than my dad’s dog).

in the morning, i awoke to birds chirping “Goodbye Blue Sky” from their digital prison in my smartphone. Continue reading

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drunk acid fucking [archive]

~ 1 ~

Aerienne
“I’ll take this one.”
All poetry is autobiography.
———————————————————————–
if going is going and going is gone
then where are we glowing
from the effects of the flash
FLUCK FASH
I did not ash
with my crayon laden hand
like a dense cigarette
ONE SPEACIAL (so fuckin’ postmodern)

LISTENING TO PPL TALK
IS POETRY IN AND OF
ITSELF

This is the idea that I have
but um errrrrrrrrrr
Fuck other people
they’re not saying anything

We always talk about
things
Dude Uh ha ha
Silent
I don’t think it’s possible,
the green that is called
green
LIME GREEN
pintree road, gingery
train stops to get off
the name
vie come back
dude
I LOVE

Eat my shit

Write me a poem
I forgot,
there is a camera
behind my ear
yellow:
make it its own pain
give everything its
own page
Another
Demension
Indoor

You did this:
Green and blue and
aquaramine
I am tripping
energy, oh my
god
THEY WONT STOP

last time
I was in a nice place
I really want a keytar
Human beings
Are wired in specific ways
8th grade: I wore
this sweater is
what I wore
A writer is someone
egotistical
My mind is so mystical
USUALLY
(is anyone else
having trouble
speaking)

the sound of
people
moving
the sound of
me moving
–your life is a big
laughing
butterfly
The cap fell
off
I always have troubling
thoughts
because I am a
madman
the big ball of paper

IT’S MY JOURNAL

we are artists
I might move
is part of
the me

My vision
My dreams are my
vision
close your eyes and
everything stops,
except
this.

I need
that
wine
because
I need
to
drink
BRB

This is what your
hair looked like
moving back
and
forth

Fix it?
What is
there to
fix
I can’t watch the
words bein

She is just
transcribing
the universe
and I
am too
in different
mediums

I’m experiencing
MY SENSES
sight sound
taste touch
smell

we are creating
on planet
bed
We are always
creating
It doesn’t
have a
predesignated
dotted
frame

climates are places where
we all feel the same
people know each other
best in places where
the temperature doesn’t
fluctuate
Holy fuck
thats Ronny
fail

my names
are
the atoms
in the
atmosphere
TRIP

If you
take
a trip
you come
back to
the place
where you

LIfe is one
big
round
trip
where is
my

EXPLODE

~~ 2 ~~

Thurs, March 4 — New American Poetry
Kerouac, Carso; Lawrence Ferlenghetti

I journal
I journey
dimensionless
spaces of probabity
yes yes only yes
my pen thinks
affirmity

if only there was a day in which I
could play but if in a daze I
can create little daisies
bed angels

Ronny is God
we are creatures on planet bed
writing his bibles
usually.
different thoughts at
the same location
there’s so many stimulations
I don’t know what
predesignated dotted
frame
I forgot that I have to be
in that window reality
the ultimate celestial divinity

makes tripod triquestrians
trees winding
I forgot everything
about
losing touch with
my mind
hotness
is
my face

hotness is my face
as if it is on fire
but I also wrote
that
IM ON FIRE

IM ON FIRE

IM ON FIRE

IM

ON

FIRE

IM

ON

FIRE

your nose reminds me
of a mountain I once saw
it meant everything that
I wanted it to mean
everything in analog
I wine have not
me have it

I am Albert Einstein

I cant not

YAH

postmodernism
is
anti-
analog
can I hold it
while it burns
CAREFUL ! It burns
while you hold it
my letters cant make
letters

sensations

I LOVE EVERYONE
I WANT TO BE
WITH EVERYONE
BECAUSE
brugs are the universal counterculture

IM
HAPPENING
what is it like to
be like
everyone

oh here
is where
I was
Eureka!
I AM YOU
BAH RAM EWE
Barack opoma
I want to see you writing
but I cant

zagizagizzigzip
Leonardo I have a
Leonardo on Hardo
you ache of me
you reak of me.

BUT BLUE

because purple
you cant tune
in to too many
channels
the visions of
tunnels
caressing
careening
Im dreaming
I’m dreaming
massaging
it swallows
for the doves that have come
rummage hat sha cant
manage my hollows
How can we both write
poems when
the acid mind
purple
WHEN

one way trip
round trip
THE SISTINE CHAPEL
Life is one
big
round
trip
60s
porn

If I could tell you
where I just went
its too far
away
I want to
add
that my
name
is fairly
unimportant
in the
“The mirror sees “The mirror sees
everything that greater everything that
we can’t.” context we can.”
— aerienne of the universe — ronny
and how are you today, sir?” Continue reading

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