om

s and i did yoga together earlier. it felt so good to get in touch with my body. the practice focused on the back and hips and that's pretty much where i hold most of my tension. we both feel strongly about finding a daily yoga practice that works for us. i really hope we do.

a week or so ago, i signed up for some really cheap yoga classes run by the local library that will take place in january and february. the cost breaks down to $2.50 per class. freaking awesome. i have to find out when the neighborhood yoga studios do their free community classes, and add those to my schedule as well.

after yoga, s gave me a full-body massage. it was absolutely amazing. earlier this week, we decided to give each other massages on sundays, alternating giving and receiving each week. it's very reciprocal and interdependent, you might say. afterward, we sat on the couch and i started studying for the gre while she read. the gre is kind of fun in a way--to feel like maybe i can beat this stupid motherfucking standardized test. fucking motherfuckers and their stupid standardized tests. my life motto: "fuck standards. really. fuck 'em."

we just took a walk to watch the sunset. it was so beautiful and huge that it made my eyes feel small and incapable of taking it all in. what a nice motherfucking day.

om image

fallujah, fall ‘04

disillusionment, disentanglement, disappointment
the fall is here, has fallen upon us
and the first frost of the season solidifies my grief.

warm hands of summer, slick with sweat
from the anticipation we made with pressed bodies
pressed like sentimental flowers in heavy textbooks
we felt permanent or worth saving under the weight
of pages and words.

hot heat of Athens’ summer streets,
walking with nothing following us,
walking with no destination,
the ruins were the ones frozen in time.
they watched us with admiration and astonishment
and they held their poses with grace and respect
for we were free to come and go like Michaelangelo
we were the masters
of us.

back to Buda, back to Pest,
back in time to my father’s immigrant past
we stood in the spot where Stalin was torn down
we laid in the square unafraid, feeling the anomie of generations since
culminating in my stratified self, broken down so many times
into so many pieces of pain, and like a kaleidoscope, She saw me
and said, “You are beautiful.” and she glued my pieces together.

but New York City welcomed us back
with the rat leading the way to the dizzying pace of complacency.
under the thumb of nothing but our own idiosyncrasies,
placating ourselves daily with ephemeral pleasures
like the mentally disturbed taking their meds.

© november 2004

fallujah image

all the bullshit

today, i feel like grad school isn't right for me. all the bureaucracy, all the bullshit, people speaking in code. that's not what i want. i just want to carve out my own little world of peace and happiness and love. every time i get close to "re-entering society," i have so much anxiety and that quickly turns into depression and a catatonic-like paralysis. i'm so tired of this cycle. i make myself sick with it.

i need to stop thinking about the big picture and just focus on the day in front of me. it's disgusting outside, so what can i do inside that's healthy for me? maybe some yoga. maybe play some ping pong. blogging is a good start. finish reading dewey. go for a run on the treadmill. take a hot bath. play rock band with s.

but i just want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers up over me and try to make the anxiety go away.

bullshit image

close to home

i couldn't sleep last night. not really sure why. kept waking up suddenly as if i hadn't been sound asleep. so i played some word warp and when that didn't make me fall asleep, i started researching the master's in education program at stony brook. i recently applied for the NYCTF (new york city teaching fellows) program, interviewed, and i am now waiting to hear back. they have a great package: a partially subsidized master's degree, no GREs to get into the program, a seven-week intensive training session, and immediate placement in a school. the downside for me is that you teach in nyc. i don't have an issue with the location whatsoever. it's simply the commute. i can't imagine commuting two hours each way to a new and challenging job while studying for a master's degree. and s and i have decided wholeheartedly that we don't want to move back to brooklyn. so i thought perhaps i should look into programs near me in suffolk. the only issue with that is i will be hemmoraging money. if i can pull myself together to complete the application, get three personal references, take the GREs, and find the money to pay for all this, i think it would be the best option for me. i need to be close to home for now. i know that much.

commuting image

flight or fight

like a dog with no concept of time
staring out the window, waiting for her owner
to come home;
it’s an instinct like flight or fight.

she loved me less than one would love a dog.
who would leave a dog waiting forever?
but dogs never win.
they are the first to be eaten on a failed expedition
they are put to work, put to sleep, put outside,
made to serve a purpose.
as the owner sees fit.
and then when the purpose is obsolete.
the cuddliness and softness of the fur is expendable.
the dog can be put down,
and the secrets whispered with quivering lips will die with it.
even the guilt.

love is cruel in the darkness of cages.
time no longer exists and sad, wise eyes
stay fixed on unconditional thoughts.

but even dogs give up sometimes.
they let go and give up eating, drinking.
heart broken, the beating stops.
with no purpose, they willingly let go.

© november 2005