it appears that this is indeed for real:

http://www.nsa.gov/kids/home.cfm

Back before we were exes

My girlfriend told me

‘O darling’

There are other things in the universe beyond what science can measure

(Horatio)

Or even discover

Which is why she believed in the power of the astrology

And had taken careful note of her rising sign and her moon

And the house her moon had been in

As was going to be in

Lately –

At that moment -

She was playing angel with the bedsheets

Spreading her white wings as far as possible

Covering her face with the thin cotton shroud of my just-laundered sheets

They had the smell of freshness and cleanliness

Despite the meager thread count -

Illuminated in small 9^th floor apartment bedroom

By one small table lamp

Purchased years before,

Ikea,

a thrifty bargain,

Shadows covering the bare walls of a room I had no reason to decorate

Because I went to work everyday,

And did not stay home,

And there I lived, at work,

Until I met her

And she introduced me to the angels-

Katie turned my bedroom into the world’s most humble cathedral,

Like its sisters

The ceiling lost to our eyes in the nighttime shadow,

And through that roof of darkness I am convinced that Katie saw all the important constellations

And what tumbled out of them

Knocking down into planet after planet

Circling every orbit closer

Until the earth.

 

The earth is my friend,

It is the thing I came out of,

It is the thing I come back to,

The earth is my friend.

My apartment on the ninth floor

The couch, the bed, the bare walls

All emerged from the mud

So I do not resent the fact I’ll spend my life so muddy

Though sometimes you need the power to touch the sky

Even when the sky just keeps slipping between your fingers no matter how high up-

You can be below it, you can be above it

But you cannot touch the sky,

The blue then indigo sky

The sky below you, out the window

Of your 767

There and not there: earth and sky

The same antimony with every relationship

Are you there-are you not there?

Were you ever there or were you never there?

 

I am flying on the island in my kitchen

Sure I’ve broken a couple of plates

Spread-eagle on my back on the island in the kitchen

Trying to balance as best I can the forces that isolate me

There are angels waiting for me on the ceiling

And my friend is waiting for me in the dirt

But I am spending my time for now

Swimming in the sea of questions

In the middle.

Greatest dim sum in North America: Lai Wah Heen in Toronto.
Their penguin dumplings are the most adorable things ever! with little black seeds for eyes!
Oh delicious penguins! Actually, not crazy delicious - but certainly memorable presentation!!!

the blunderbus of an old man
stood there and gave
and gave
and 
gave
(his wisdom)

So T-Paul is dead. I just found out today thanks to mass mailing by Rowan Lipkovits, who was quite tender and well-spoken in his epistle.

I appreciate the outpouring of emotions from everyone on livejournal, in emails, etc., that I have come across. As for myself, while T-Paul was not my favourite person, he was not my least favourite by any means. He had bad points, good points, more than enough to make him lovable and loved.

However, I cannot ignore the feeling I had about T-Paul for the past couple of years: that the man had tragedy written on his face. Actually, I assumed T-Paul would be forced to deal with far larger problems than an early death: permanent unemployment; social isolation; depression. In short, T-Paul struck me in the last couple of years as a man far more on the way down than up. So I am shocked but not surprised at the news. 

And so, to me, T-Paul is a warning, a warning about growing older and without a family of one's own to provide you with purpose and function. Nothing motivates a person to get a shitty job like having to feed your kids. But shitty jobs - by which I mean boring, ordinary, unartistic jobs - usually also (but no, not always) have the result of grounding individuals in the everyday social fabric of our society. In other words, having a normal job makes you much less a free-floater, for all the good and bad that implies. 

Instead, T-Paul lived to be an artist. He gambled on himself. And (and I think this is the part where I expect hate mail), I think he gambled badly. He came accross much more as a hipster than an artist. Someone who needed to be seen more than someone who needed to do (art). Art, I think, can only be done by two classes of people: those who, for one reason or another, will never have to worry about having money (i.e. the children of rich parents, wives, husbands, former child tv stars, etc.) and those who are genuinely comfortable having very little money and cannot not-do their art (i.e. Rowan Lipkovits). There is actually a third category: those who are good enough to make a comfortable living at their art, but not only do you have to be talented/skilled enough, but the art you do (naturally, as a first choice, your natural instinct) must be a kind of art you can make money at. That's plenty rare. Frankly, T-Paul did not fit into any of those categories.

Instead, he came across as a want-to-be more than a was. I cannot help but think how much happier he would have been if only he had just found a job that he could stand. I think T-Paul would have made a great highschool drama teacher, and I think he would have enjoyed a life as a non-artist instead of one where (as it was clear to me) he was always seeking to prove that he was talented and brilliant enough to be real.

TB

checked into my new summer residence: D'Agostino Hall, a residence for NYU Law students on w.3rd.

I'm on the 15th floor, so my bedroom gets light. It's a big enough room, but there is no living room at all. Just a kitchen with a small table, bathroom, etc. However, on the 14th floor, there's a terrace on the north side, and the view is phenomenal, straight up to midway as it rises building by building until the Empire State Building rises from the direct center. Seriously postcard perfect.

let me know if you need my number

Previously
I had thought
"golden tresses"
were just worn letters
rubbed
on to 
the boring pages
of old anthologies
but 
after you?
(during you)
like Romeo
unto
Juliet
I realize now
that these soft springs of flaxen spirals
are the vines
up the wall separating me from a moment of enviable happiness
up to your lips
to heaven
or some mythical
winged
kingdom of faeries

What a disappointing game. I left at TO took back the lead in third, not caring if Montreal (who I was rooting for) won or not. The fact is that, having not seen either team play in a while, I was hoping that at least one of the two most storied, noteworthy franchises in Canadian life would show that it's mediocre showing was simply an inability to fulfill its potential - a potential that would shine clear in the playoffs.

This was not the case.

I think it would have been nicer to have abducted and tortured Huet and Raycroft than let them play with the kind of defence both had tonight. Sure, some of the goals were pretty but this was more about which team screwed up the most and most often, not about who actually played well.

on not on going to gym for a week: it was very nice, like sleeping-in for my muscles.

This falls under this could only happen to yours truly here...


=====makesyoulaugh86 wrote=====
Hi Thuderberry

I love your profile and love the scrabble appreciation. I would definitely like the chance to talk to you a bit online sometime, find out more about you. Would that be possible?

Sincerely yours,
Makesyoulaugh

=====thunderberry wrote=====

Dude, Matt, don't you recognize me?? Holy awkward.


=========================

uh, na-uh, which makes this whole thing SUPER DUPER awkward. I mean, your face definitely seemed familiar but I just thought I was being silly.

So, um, who are you? a name would be really really helpful...if that isn't too weird.

Sheesh.


Matthew


=====20753=====

Katherine, Jess's friend.

================


Wow. I knew that picture looked familiar. Jesus. Just my luck. I finally found a girl on a internet dating site that seems interesting and not only does she already know me, she already can't stand me.

Hmmm, at least this saves some time getting from point A to point B.

In my defense, I don't think I've run into you once in months. AND I didn't know you were some star track and field athlete. Should have been able to guess the scrabble.

sorry for the awkwardness.

Matthew