just got complimented that i word things well and now i'm smiling.

the percussion rack took a nice chunk out of my left palm today, but that's okay. i can't believe there's only four days left of indoor drumline, felt like yesterday that i sent that text on 1.20 and got a reply that i was in to fill that hole despite zero experience.

redox rxns are kind of fun.

it feels like summer, and i'm afraid of falling into lethargy. right before my first ap season begins. need more time. like usual.

first ever rehearsal with hendo, my god. i hope musical will be fun though. great people.

i wonder who reads this blog, too. i wonder who makes up the wall i sometimes feel like i'm talking to. not like that's a bad thing at all, though.

my concert black still smells like seattle.

is what you're living for worth dying for?

got my tux for prom! can't wait to pick it up - gonna look fly. hopefully.

heh.

you're in my thoughts tonight, take care of yourself.

it gets better.

#112: "Using the second law of thermodynamics, explain why it is very difficult to unscramble an egg. Who was Humpty Dumpty? Why did his moment of glory illustrate the second law of thermodynamics?"

This Chemistry textbook..at least the last problem on the homework wasn't math? That's an odd note to leave Spring Break '11 on, but there you go.

baby you the best,

you the you the best,

best i ever had

haven't played horn in a week and i can feel the mush that used to be my chops. sigh.

i know this is disgusting, but man, i just realized i haven't showered in three days. i guess that's what three days of captivity in a room full of academic stress and preoccupying emotions and mental distractions does. i gotta say, it's pretty pathetic how i've gone to waste like this, but time to get back in the game..

..by getting in the shower

(500)

i gotta be frank--i can't imagine me with anyone other than you

had me feelin' like my dreams came true

you made me feel good

like no one else existed

like summer was here everyday of the year

now its just my wishful thinkin'

i think everyone gets a summer in their life, sooner or later.

i think the sun broke

because your april is my november

and the lazy willows are caressing your shoulders and

wrapping up your clavicles in a smothering

evergreen embrace, while my

face is being chipped by the twelve-to-midnight sting

of water mist, shards of diamond glass

scintillating under a moon on the rocks (shaken, not stirred)

but maybe a red giant somewhere else has it right

where my april is your november

and i've lost myself in decade old texts

scrawled with the graphite markings of women and men who

still didn't know what facebook was, but connected

with such a network of fleeting smiles and

timely strokes of their hair that their walls were their faces,

but you've spent your time on the

soft linens of a cornered comfort, acoustic and

tom waits growling vocals echoing in a hall

dampened by the ever-growing thumps of

an elephant heart and sparks of a tesla mind

and maybe the elephant, or the chilled pacific has it right,

or maybe the coy smiles, or the heaving leaves do

but this time, these calendars

are no longer gregorian or french revolutionary or lunar

they've just fallen from the minds

and carried themselves into the warm folds of the sun

something about the smell of 35 year old books from the ucla stacks

sigh

the article was extremely frustrating

and making the mistake of reading some of the comments even more

"Homosexuality is a sexual disorder"

cmon. seriously?

gonna try to do this with just words

1 - what I’m craving for right now

a steaming warm animal style four by three from in n' out, with crispy buns just crispy enough that they resist a bite but aren't stiffly burnt and warm juicy, mustard crisped patties and perfectly melted american in between 'em, extra grilled onions left with a tiny crunch with the caramelized charred taste and refreshing lettuce and extra chopped peppers on the bottom with copious amounts of that special sauce that i refuse to believe is just thousand island

2 - a secret

nobody knows all of my secrets

3 - one of the things I am proud of

my hands

4 - one of my insecurities

quadruple forte arguments

5 - my childhood career choice

trash truck driver

seriously.

6 - my favorite band right now

john legend and the roots

7 - what turns me on

that coy smile

8 - a confession

i'm a lot more lost on the inside than i show, whether its leading a group of friends to where we should grab dinner or something more serious

9 - one of my bad habits

a cycle of procrastination that perpetually keeps me frustrated

10 - who I wish I could be

grandpa

11 - where I would like to live

i want to be brave enough to move out of even just this city, and if i were, norcal or the northwest, but i won't be, so the city of angels it is - for now

12 - what I think of myself

limitlessly limited, but with enough to get by and be alright

"I held hands with her all the time, for instance. That doesn't sound like much, I realize, but she was terrific to hold hands with. Most girls if you hold hands with them, their goddam hand dies on you, or else they think they have to keep moving their hand all the time, as if they were afraid they'd bore you or something. [She] was different. We'd get into a goddam movie or something, and right away we'd start holding hands, and we wouldn't quit till the movie was over. And without changing the position or making a big deal out of it. You never even worried...whether your hand was sweaty or not. All you knew was, you were happy. You really were."

-j.d. salinger

i hate you, time

i hate you like how

i wake up in the crusts of

five week old arizona iced tea and

crumpled, sour

string cheese wrappers

at thirteen 'til two with

two angels in an early morning

devil masquerade belting out

an architectural colossus of

a capellas about freedom and hymns

of artillery shells fireworking underneath

astroturf and boxerbriefs

shoved somewhere between time in the

sixty-second dimension and

the burning LEDs of sunless

early morning blankets

of bon iver and grumbling transmissions

talk about a blur, bring me back

pchs marching band '10

e. lopez photography

cleaning out my text message inbox

there's still some i can't remove

and the ones that i've balled up to select

had me cringing when i pressed "delete"

like peroxide on a picked scab

don't want this infection

(or do i?)

high-definition memories

and now i won't be able to sleep

amnesia is the key to happiness

or maybe just peace of mind

saudade

final

syncopation

these were the shots that

never existed, but

were still heard 'round the world

the bellowing of beautiful melodies

stealing hearts,

syncopated beating

secretly accenting the show

rose brass harmonies

perfect fifths,

dominant sevenths

the hands are shaking,

stirring the dusty

chemically saturated air,

feebly supporting

golden-hued laughter and

red tinted silences

now there's

linear, yet

curved fingers around

worn black oak armrests,

previously gripped when

lacking a loved ones hand

***

i wrote this for my english final last semester, we were to go through a whole semester's worth of writing for our favorite quotes, then we had to make a patchwork composition of small chunks of those quotes, a poem of sort. probably my first and last final that i'll enjoy doing.

my way

if only money weren't important and i could chase music and do it my way.

dreams are dreams for a reason.

post-

i'm stuck in a post-seattle hangover

because that was the closest i felt to 2010 in so long

even though those few april days were still

clouded over in bittersweet aftertaste

in between the pockets of patched seattle overcast

where sunshine beamed down on lucky spots of that

beautiful city

i sat on the bow of that ship

in that freezing air

to try to feel alive again

it just numbed my face

and blued my synapses

seattle, wa

thursday

• last person to get to pali like a pro, ran from car to band room to bus in matter of five seconds
• fresh frozen bbq chicken pizza = good bus aromas
• lax: expensive bottled water, burger king fat, tater tots
• rxn predict. on the flight, taking advantage of sitting next to nicky lue the chem genius
• touchdown in seatac, love the rain
• get to hotel, hungry
• dale/jaycros/i go on walk to supposed jack in the box "only four blocks away to the right" in pouring rain and wind and zooming cars
• no jack in the box, granola bar lunch from gas station
• turns out the jack in the box is to the left, by a lot more than four blocks (figured this out saturday afternoon)
• bus to space needle
• top: so pretty. chippy cold. wind. felt good. george kept holding his phone over edge, thinking about it makes me nervous.
• had a sourdough bowl of steamy clam chowder, sooo good.
• sun comes out over puget, prettiest thing i've seen
• bus to bucco di beppo
• copious laughter, great food, better friends, happy evening
• back to hotel, chill for a bit
• hot tub to digest exploding stomach
• hang in 406
• alex playing pokemon
• nearly overflow bathtub

friday

• breakfast buffet downstairs, bacon. so. much. bacon.
• bus to pike's
• pike = so much happy
• friendliest seattle-ites, chatted with one guy who made handmade journals (got one for myself, buffalo hide and handmade paper)
• also talked with acrylic artist about california's beautiful coast and how she does such incredible brushwork (emily's bday present!)
• samples of the best goat cheese/beef jerky/raw honey/chocolate truffle cherries/etc./etc.
• got a volcanic ash sculpture of turtles for my mom
• chewed and put gum (v.l.) on infamous gum wall
• killer mac n' cheese and mexican coke from food truck two blocks up
• chai latte from original starbucks with jaycros
• bought indie wool white cap, comfiest thing ever
• walking around aimlessly to burn time, still great times
• festival!
• entire band turning boys restroom into our mancave away from home for concert black changing
• great performance (couldn't help smiling in so many moments, especially the first low brass theme of chaconne in warmup)
• danny did incredible on the chaconne horn solo! hit that high g and i wanted to hug him right there and then on stage
• funny photo = serg from flask
• bus to mall for grub
• bj's with bret/mitchel/tara(fur)
• funny waiter, with tara asking him his preference on lakers..ahh i love her
• hotel again, don't actually remember where i spent this evening. all i know it was with good friends and i had a good time. very good times.
• fell asleep to writing a birthday note, slept with smile on face

saturday

• more breakfast buffet, mmm
• underground tour, dave is a funny man. "seattle was a town funded off sins: drinking, gambling, and sewing"
• exploring the area with jaycros and emily and melony
• go up to the top of a tower, incredible view
• room inside, "china room" had beautiful chinese antiques. just beautiful. hidden gem of seattle right there.
• open cart elevator and looking down into the elevator shaft, holy balls.
• philly cheesesteak place with aforementioned trio and dale/lizzie
• philly cheesesteak with whiz/onions/sweet peppers/fried peppers = satisfied victor
• walked down to waterfront, get freaked out by curiosity shop
• toy store! lost my group but taught ollie/warfel blockus, played a game with them and daniel (won by a piece!) fun stuff
• starbucks with tara (then like, half the band)
• watched a great chessmatch between young and old, stern faces broken by a smile when they came down to a pawn and king vs. a king. made me so happy
• bus back to hotel, spend the afternoon with tara watching espn then alex c./christina briefly
• ferry to tillicum village, beautiful trip through the sound, couldn't stop looking down at the ship breaking through the water and the damn beauty of everything.
• had a moment where it felt like '10 again. wanted to speak, could barely. but the few words sufficed. my mind was racing too much to be trusted then.
• landed, had incredible dinner (freshly roasted salmon, sooo good.)
• seconds. mmm.
• the tribe's presentation
• wren! be the wren. always gonna be that wren.
• ferry back
• blistering cold wind
• nighttime skyline of seattle, beaut
• sat out in the front almost the entire time despite the cold. wanted to feel alive again. only half accomplished. (blue nose, blue soul)
• sleep on bus back, midnight room check, one after turn in (sean is a hilariously bizarre kid after midnight)

sunday

• pack up, spend morning in 406, fun times
• quick breakfast, bus to airport
• pepperoni tomazzo, mmm.
• ciao, seattle
• funny moment of intense drooling as we were taxiing outta seattle. should've been embarrassed but i couldn't stop laughing
• ap chem princeton review crambook, calm nerves with ridiculous curve on the test
• touch down in city of angels
• try to comfort tara about lakers, fall asleep (i suck)
• but so tired.
• mr. noodle's chicken pad thai with chili oil and thai iced tea (the usual) for early dinner
• washup, reuinte with neighborhood boys for first time in months, perfect end to weekend.

all was a blur, all was so happy, all was unforgettable.

pali band, seattle wa, april '11

"do you know if islands get smaller?"

water into kool-aid

maybe.

"don't do anything you haven't done before, and don't do half the things you have done. basically just don't do anything stupid."

i can't say it anymore.

need to be on that plane. need to be on that plane. need to be on that plane.

double the homes, half the time, quadruple the stress

half past two

there's something about half past two in the morning and last night in that moment that put everything in the right perspective.

not being able to complete this thought at half past two last night makes it even more so.

"once you do something, you never forget. even if you don't remember."

-miyazaki

heroes

http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_thelookout/20110401/ts_yblog_thelookout/japan-nuke-workers-have-committed-themselves-to-die-if-necessary

http://news.yahoo.com/s/yblog_thelookout/20110405/ts_yblog_thelookout/japanese-nuclear-plant-worker-discusses-choice-to-sacrifice-his-life

fukushima fifty.

"atomic samurai"

pray.

there's something about an hour long, three plus mile walk in cool spring late evening air with the lightest possible, yet consistent drizzle of rain, and talking about life with one of my best guys, g.k., that puts me at peace.

i could die with a smile right now.

"aren't I going to be me?"

and my favorite.

abundance of tears.

words mean nothing, sometimes

second most favorite movie, ever.

a love story placed with an underlying environmental message sans-dialogue. that opening sequence is my favorite. perfection.

what i do with my first and only free saturday in the first three and a half months of the year

"...let me tell you something I've never told a soul. my grandmother...she said that each of us is born with a box of matches inside us but we can't strike them all by ourselves...we need oxygen and a candle to help. in this case, the oxygen, for example, would come from the breath of the person you love; the candle could be any kind of food, music, caress, word, or sound that engenders the explosion that lights one of the matches. for a moment we are dazzled by an intense emotion. a pleasant warmth grows within us, fading slowly as time goes by, until a new explosion comes along to revive it. each person has to discover what will set off those explosions in order to live, since the combustion that occurs when one of them is ignited is what nourishes the soul. that fire, in short, is its food. if one doesn't find out in time what will set off these explosions, the box of matches dampens, and not a single match will ever be lighted.

---

that's why it's important to keep your distance from people who have frigid breath. just their presence can put out the most intense fire.

---

there are many ways to dry out a box of damp matches.

---

you must of course take care to light the matches one at a time. if a powerful emotion should ignite them all at once they would produce a splendor so dazzling that it would illuminate far beyond what we can normally see; and then a brilliant tunnel would appear before our eyes, revealing the path we forgot the moment we were born...the soul ever longs to return to the place from which it came, leaving the body lifeless."

-l. esquivel

reactionary

dance with the one that brung you?

there's going to be a breaking point. where the sky falls and the burj khalifa crumbles and another october '29 burns and crashes.

we watched this video the other day, about the roaring twenties and depressed thirties. i think i was one of the few actually watching, and one of the fewer who was incredibly interested.

i feel like my roaring twenties are over. or at least, for a while. i want to find it again, and stroll down my own broadway whistling gershwin, but it will be hard. or maybe it will roll in unexpectedly. or maybe i'll be stuck on the middle ground as the domestic schism barely grows each wailing morning. i wish the wailing was of louis. that'd be sunny.

i was going to end this post with "i've lost hope in 2011", but i don't know how i feel about that now. hope is hard to lose, and it's harder to abandon the notion. but maybe i have, and i'm too nervous. maybe.