Mira

February 14 is just that to me; February 14. Just another Tuesday as it went. I worked most of the day and then sat around my house for a bit, but when 9 o'clock rolled around I headed out into the night since despite the day's lack of meaning for me, it did mean something to my two roommates, who wanted to celebrate it. Respecting their privacy I left before they got back from their dinner and a movie date. I drove around for a bit, got a bite to eat, put some gas in my tank, and decided to drive around a little more with my FM tuner turning the 101.9 radio frequency signal into pure, unadulterated jazz, the disk jockey speaking in hipster hues. Eventually I found myself killing the engine in the parking lot of my old elementary. If you haven't visited the foundation of youth years after you've left it let me tell you, going back to the old schoolyard after almost a decade is a trip. So many memories welled up, screaming to be released. It wasn't really sad in a tears kind of way, but more sad in a lost innocence kind of way, if one can tell the difference. George Constanza was right, life is pretty much backwards. I walked around that playground for almost an hour, remembering warm spring days lying in the grass, and cool autumn breezes that whipped boys playing ball and girls skipping rope. After covering all my old running, stomping, jumping and screaming grounds, I took a walk down the railroad tracks and just listened; the program for that night happened to be a brilliant mid-western symphony I hadn't heard in far too long. A train in the distance, the wind through the trees and over the lakes, chimes hanging outside homes ringing softly, the call of the warning bells as the gates lower, the roar of the train as it rips through town, and finally the empty silence in its wake, the combination gave Mozart a run for his money as far as my ears were concerned. A friend of mine lived not far from the tracks, and I made my towards his house, even though I knew I wouldn't be welcome. He had a love of his own to spend the night with, but I figured I'd swing by regardless, I didn't have time for being polite tonight. Instead of knocking on the door as I had originally intended though, I just peered through the window, I don't know why I did it. The scene inside was beautiful. Two kids sat on a sofa watching TV, flipping aimlessly through channels, melted into one another. The microwave dinged and they both slowly got up to sit at a table set with two plates, two knives, two forks, but only one glass of milk. They ate the most delicious meal of their lives, hamburger helper straight from the box washed down with that one glass of milk, and never tasted a bit of it. So poor, so in love, though fleeting it may be, their hands reached for each other's throughout the meal; their fingers danced together; their eyes played hide-and-seek. And when the meal was over, they retired to the back bedroom, and I took my cue to leave. I walked around town a little more, returned to the school and peeked in all the windows, peered in through all the doors. Read the words carved onto the stones so long ago; Attica High School, though it hadn't been a High School for something like forty years or more. I wondered about how many other boys had roared through its halls, how many girls had talked together in small groups, how many teaches had come and gone with the passing of years. What happened to all of them? They're shutting it down you know. In less then six months time they'll be closed for business, such wonderful business as its been. What ghosts will linger there, even after its gone? The rest of the night was pretty uneventful. I visited the old train station, its a unmanned facility now-a-days, free of a heart or thought. I doubt anyone has sat on that platform for years, no one rides the rails anymore. I drove past my high school, an eyeless building that cared little of its own appearance. And finally, after I had run out of memories to visit, I headed off into the night, and towards home.

Its really sad the way US companies have commercialized all holidays, not just this one. I mean they started playing Christmas music around here the day after Halloween, almost two full months before Christmas. They're planning on putting Easter decorations up very soon where I work, another two months before the holiday! I just wish corporate America would stop shoving this stuff down my throat and let me enjoy it in my own way. (I've got no problem with Valentine's Day itself.)

From one poet to another, Happy Birthday.

I've restarted my WoW account :'( and am planning to play with a group of friends on another server, but I'll try and roll an alt to hang out with you guys. Just let me know all the info I'll need to contact you people when you get a chance.

I liked Motion City Soundtrack's earlier album, "I Am the Movie", better. Mira's top 5 of '05 (In no particular order) ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead - Worlds Apart The Decemberists - Picaresque Electric Six - Senor Smoke Motion City Soundtrack - Commit This to Memory Paul McCartney - Chaos and Creation in the Backyard

Happy Birthday Sal.

I've only told one person in RL that I write.

Weary walruses wear winter wools

Indestructible Inuit igloos insulate.

Dad doesn't don dresses.

99% Swooper.

Dropped this into the AAA some time ago. The above poem reminded me about it so I cleaned this one up a little and put it here. I a son of the Land of Nod, A wayward Cainite, a fool Am lost to love, am born in sin Who lives outside the bounds of rule I who wants and needs and feeds on blood and wine and rain Who takes it all and revils In the wanton hand of pain. I am he who inhabit the crags, and cracks, and mass of every land. Who dances to the piper's tune, And leads the children by the hand. I who fail to feel, to see, to hear, And happen to like it that way And while I have the words for every event I've not a single thing to say.

Thanks to John Steinbeck for a bit of inspiration Am I Abel, or am I Cain? Do I watch the flock, or do I reap the grain? Am I destined to be favored or doomed to be shamed? Is it already set in stone, or can I choose to conquer sin? Is my strength from without or is it born from within? And was it really my hand which slew my beloved brother; twin? timshel

You used the word "like" a lot, which I know was planned, but it still got on my nerves a little . Once I got over that I really enjoyed the poem.

I took a look at your profile and decided that you're borderline Katz. Early 80's was the cut off point between Gen-X and the next generation, and you fell right in there.

I took a Writing class this semester that focused on Digital Literacy, and in it we discussed how this up and coming generation (Generation-D or Generation -@ or whatever you would like to call it) is already forming their own dialect. I know several people who use words like "pwn" or acronyms like "lol" or "brb" in everyday speach. On a totally unrealated note I have my own profound thought... Why do we park in driveways and drive on parkways?

Residence With his position as Co-Guild Leader of the Articulate Artisans of Alliteration Mira has been assigned the offices and lodgings that accompany the position. His office is a small room tucked away within the Athenaeum, which he is can almost never be found in. It is a dusty room that includes a desk, chair, filing cabinet, and not much more. His private quarters, however are a stark contrast to the derelict office. Located several stories up in one of the less densely populated wings of The Pen, the quarters resemble an up scale apartment that happens to be situated in a castle. The parts of wall that are visible show the stone architecture of the whole keep, however there are only a few areas where the original wall is visible. When one enters Mira's quarters the first room they come into is the high ceilinged Library and most of its walls are covered in book cases or wall hangings depicting various nature scenes or heroes. The book cases are filled with all sort of works, both fiction and nonfiction, on almost every subject, and while it isn't the largest collection of writings at The Pen, it is considered by many to be the most agreeable to reading, as there are plenty of comfortable places to sit or lounge. Also adding to the cozy feel of the room is a single fireplace that keeps the room warm on cold winter nights. In addition to the Library, there is a Music Room filled with various instruments, mostly guitars. Mira's Master Bedroom is located above the Music Room and can be reached by climbing a wrought iron spiral staircase in the Library. While some residents of The Pen have elaborate or magical systems with which they protect their living spaces, Mira has always held an open door policy (quite literally as his door is often left wide open even in his absence) and anyone is welcome in his Library or Music Room at any time, though he does ask that his Sleeping Quarters are not disturbed.

Love it Vlad

Happy Birthday man.

If you had posted this a couple of months ago I would have have been more then happy to have played on a server with you guys, but I've moved past WoW now. Though if there are any EVE Online players here, PM me and I'll give you my character information.

I searched and searched for a emoticon or small image that could convey how sorry I am, how my heart goes out for you, since I didn't think I could find any words to say what I wanted. Brother you're gone now you've went away to not return on sunny days but i know if i hold you forever deep in my heart that never will we ever truly be apart I'm sorry if I've overstepped my bounds, or if my words were so clumsy, to have opened up wounds.

Really digging this show Wyvie.

Good stuff. I look forward to reading more in the future.

Happy Birthday man. Hope its a good one.

Well, last night, November 9th, I saw Ted Leo & The Pharmacists in Detroit. The venue was a club downtown on lovely Woodward Avenue called The Magic Stick. It was a pretty small club with only room for a couple hundred people, but I really liked the vibe of the place. They had a handful of Pool Tables (hence the name of the club) on one side of the room that were separated from the stage and floor by a low wall. The first warm up band was a group that called themselves The Changes. They hailed from Chicago and had a very nice stage presence and sound. They consisted of a Guitar, Bass, Drums, and a singer who played guitar, keyboards, and percussion throughout their set. Halfway through their second song, my girlfriend and I decided that they sounded like The Cure, but with a bit more Rock n' Roll in the mix. All in all they very enjoyable, and for a moment they dispelled our general weariness towards warm-up bands. The second warm-up band however lived up to our very poor expectations. They were an all female band called Slumber Party, and they were positively atrocious. Two guitarists, a bassist, and a drum-machine combined with a horrible job by the sound engineer added up to thirty minutes of unending pain. Partway through their set, people began to sit down, and the loudest applause they got was when they finally took off their instruments and began to pack up. After the audience got a second to nurse their wounded eardrums, Ted Leo popped onto the stage and promptly began to repair the damage done by Slumber Party. He was funny at times, making jokes and trading profanities with overly excited fans, but he was also serious, saying "There's a lot of talking and arguing going on all the time, but at the end of the day there's people dying on the ground... this songs for them" right before going into a pair of his more political songs. But most of all he just rocked. His entire band rocked, even though it was just him and two other guys, and they were all very skilled on their instruments. They finished up the set, and followed it with a three song encore, the first of which was just Ted covering a song by The Pogues called Dirty Old Town. The concert was definitely worth the $12.