blah blah blah

653. what would the bejesus-out-of-me do?

my phone rang. a friend of mine needed a ride home because his car was taken by a girl whose friend my friend was trying to get drunk. she called him earlier and continued to complain about how her friend puked in the car, on the carpet and on her $$$ bed sheets. she yelled at him while she’s washing her hair in the shower because her friend puked on it as well.

hypnagogic, i look at the clock and…3:50 am?! what?!!! i was going to be mad, but then again, i was pretty glad that all i have to do is drive.

man, silly things people do to get free drinks these days.

somewhere in nothern idaho trying to look for some elk.

a sunny day in seattle on our way to bill gates’ house. eh not really.

659. …from words, from beer, from natalie imbru-gina.

before: wish i was able to contain my excitement when chuck p. asked me to say carrots. but heck(!), i came all the way from blacksburg,va to menlo park, ca after 8 hours of labwork. i was allowed not to.

after: that was my arm just after the hand shake. see how it is still shaking. good thing i’m left-handed.

*copyright 2005

665. the last goodbye.

i am writing this for a friend. not dead but gone.

why is it that slow emotional songs, call them love songs if you like, contain the same lyrics and for this reason we hate such predictability? could it be, that in the rawness of the moment, true emotions are better said when left unadulterated, uncoated, universally plain. maybe sincerity truly comes in white.

maybe i should shut up.

and sing. or not.

10 months*

words fall short nowadays,

but still I do hope

I can reached you through this

‘cause truly

I don’t know how.

just let me stay, let me be there now.

let me say I’ll hold you.

give me my share of burden,

it’s why I’ve remained for anyway.

I. I heard you close the door,

everything has gone still now,

but my heart and yours…

if only these beatings can make it through

this thin air.

if only I knew how to cross

between such silences,

I will.

II. I pray the wind will soon blow high,

to carry all the pains away.

and if your tears are tired of rolling,

allow the rain to fake it anyway.

and let this hand, my hand

wipe them, dry them away.

just let me stay…

just let me stay, let me there now,

let me say I’ll hold you.

give me my share of burden,

it’s why I have remained for anyway.

it’s why I am here for anyway.

*another cherry…

669. sweet as it comes

in your penumbra,

i Hid my guilt. unwelcomed. i know. but lingering like falling golds in the early daYs of november.  i breathe the silence, raPt in woNder of the wrinkled tides of your silk, partially hiding in those randomly fAded blue sky. your zipper- the parted water of old, crimson. save me from my Grief. only now, they are lovers’ hands longing fOr each others clasp.

the irony, too subtle, no one quite noticed.

and just like that, it was over. i am autumn, gone. done by the siGht of the arctIc fleet. an army that marches in Cadence to the echoes of your stilettos. while the empty walls whistle as if they knew. they do. in the middle of your triumph, half-awake, half asleep, the ‘guilt’ will find its meaning. finding its way back, like a bottled message reopened ashore. pocketed in those shadows, you will think of me more. save me from my grief. too late. crimson. late.

and sweet is a word winter hates.