Catch Up Time

Hey everyone, I was out of touch with the mighty internet this weekend. Fortunately I survived, and here are the things I wrote on a piece of paper:

Thursday, February 5

"Poem"

The best way I know to articulate it,

Is like this:

Here I am

And maybe you all are too. 

I think about bank accounts

And grass

And Coca-Cola and dinosaurs

And talk about them

And think some more

So I become them.

I, me, myself...become them.

Sometime when I see an ocean

Or a funny smile

I arrive at a peephole

And a moment is whispered

Where the cokes and dinos are nothing

And therefore I am nothing.

I, me, myself...nothing.

And yet

Somehow, someway

In that nothing moment

I don't need to expand

Because I am everything then.

Friday, February 6

"In A Hotel Room"

        I saw, on a table, a mayonnaise pack and a ketchup pack, slightly rubbing up against each other. They were two of the lucky few left over from a burger dinner, and I could tell they wanted to celebrate. But they were in such an open, flat environment that they merely laid there, content to brush serrated edges until I turned the single bulb lamp off above the table and shut myself in the bedroom for the night. Yes, I would sleep alone again, my arm across my other pillow, while the packets of condiments enjoyed themselves on the table.

Saturday, February 7

"The Great Pyramid"

Good.

  Good. Good.

    Good. Good. Good.

      Good. Good. Good. Good.

Good. Good. Good. Good. Good.

  Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good.

    Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good.

      Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good.

Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good.

  Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good.

    Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good.

      Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good.

Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good.

  Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good. Good.

Sunday, February 8

"The Stars"

      He said he was a nowhere man, on a nowhere sidewalk.

      I said no, I only want to know which way is Caesar's Palace.

      He pointed at the carpet of blinking lights above our heads and said, see all the stars, everywhere around us? They will show you the way.

      I was impatient but intrigued and said, where do they tell you to go?

      A woman walked past us through the darkened double doors, putting a blackjack dealer's shirt over her gaudy and stretched hooker's tank top. He said, wherever I haven't yet been.

      I asked someone else for directions.