Sunday, December 14, 2008
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Part of me wished that I was back in America on election night 2008 to join the celebrations and have a closer encounter with the sense of a new era dawning. Call me a nerd, but I was nevertheless quite content with the situation I found myself in – comparing election night coverage between three major broadcasters: CNN, BBC, and Al Jazeera.
I have a friend who works as a journalist, and when I asked him his opinion about Al Jazeera, he was rather harsh and upset about the supposed anti-American slant they bring to their news. I noticed nothing of the sort as I watched their brilliant, yes brilliant, coverage. By the end of the election, my objections with CNN’s approach to media was affirmed. Here is a list of things that struck me about Al Jazeera and CNN’s coverage:
1. Did anyone notice that CNN aired at the Obama rally in Grant Park? I first noticed it when I saw beer ads running on the enormous screens at the rally. Then the unmistakable CNN = Politics slogan flashed on the screen, and I was sure. What is the connection there? And why did CNN political correspondent Candy Crowley get to be among the selected few reporters to ask Barack a question at his first press conference as President Elect?
2. Al Jazeera interviewed Robert Fisk. Fisk’s hallmark is honest and critical dialogue on controversial issues I have never seen Fisk interviewed on any news network. Then they interviewed Jesse Jackson AND JJ Jr. at Obama’s rally. The round table discussion were equally fascinating – notably one with a rapper called “Son of a Nun” from Baltimore, and other interesting roundtables in Kabul and Tehran.
3. No commercials aired during Al Jazeera’s coverage of election night. Absolutely incredible.
4. Al Jazeera stationed reporters throughout the world on election night to capture in real time the world’s reaction to the unfolding election. Correspondents reported from Kabul, Moscow, Kenya, Albania, Germany, Iran, Brazil, China, Zimbabwe, Canada, and many other nations. CNN followed its strict formula of studio, rally, and various city shots. CNN has a tendency to overanalyze the little things and does not strive to capture a global reaction to how events, especially the election, unfold. Al Jazeera did brilliant work in this respect, really capturing honest footage on how regular people around the world were reacting. My favorite piece of info was from the village of Obama’s father in Kenya, where two cows were slaughtered in honor of their native son’s historic victory.
5. What’s up with CNN’s slogan? CNN = Politics? Are we really such a short-tempered and mathematically inept viewership that we need an A = B formula to tell us why we watch CNN? I think it has something to do with the increasing impatience we are seeing in our media-frenzied universe, where it is becoming more apparent that if you can’t hook a viewer with a sexy slogan, then you lose them. Quality dissolves as a result, but it’s not CNN’s fault. They just perpetuate the system. Al Jazeera's election night coverage sans commercial at least indicates to me that it enjoys a reasonable amount of journalistic integrity.
What a silly thing to write about.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Recession, rampant corporate and political corruption, bitter bipartisan warfare, a broken healthcare system, a narrow political discourse, a shattered international image abroad, a war we must leave, failing energy policies, a backwards election system, and an obsessive “rock star politics” fueled by a media-frenzied society have eroded the quality, reliability, and straightforwardness of American politics. Yes, we need change. But neither of the two major candidates have proposed truly creative reforms that would turn this country around. They have stuck to the stump, reading the scripts that we have heard many times before from candidates of the past. This round, it’s the same story with different faces.
Whoever wins, let’s not forget some of America’s consistent policies and objectives that won’t be forgotten by either of the two candidates. While both candidates guarantee their own unique brand of “change” that they insist differs from their opponent’s, the media, the candidates, their parties, and the people seem to overlook what won’t change about America, regardless of who enters the White House. 1) America is a hegemony. Puerto Rico is an annexed territory. So is Midway Island, and Guam, to name a few. Throw Hawaii in there while we are at it. Who profits from the tariffs collected from the elephantine traffic sailing through the Panama Canal? Uncle Sam. Regardless of who wins the election, there is an unspoken understanding that this individual is responsible for maintaining America’s role as the world’s great empire. But we are seeing America’s power gradually slip, as powers like Brazil, China, Iran, and Russia rise. Military conflict with one of these three might be in our future. And why does America chastise Iran? On the surface level we are told, as we were about Iraq, that they could develop nuclear weapons to attack America, or our ally Israel. Recently, someone asked me why Iran does not like Israel. I meandered about the question before discovering what I think is the answer. Well, there seems to very little that Iran could objectively dislike about Israel. I have never heard Iran use narrow-minded, bigoted explanations that they abhor Israel because of their cuisine, music, or the way they look. No, Iran’s anti-Israeli slant promotes, I believe, Iran’s regional power in the Middle East. In the Middle East, there is a strong divide among nations with Shii and Sunni majorities. Sunnis are the majority, while the only nations with Shii majorities (and correct me if I am wrong) are Syria and Iran. This religious and ideological divide has prevented overwhelming unity for a very powerful region. But in this sea of Islam, there is one issue that transcends the Shii/Sunni split. It is Israel. In spearheading an aggressive anti-Israeli campaign, Iran indicates a strong bid for regional power through anti-Semitism. Iran realizes that opposing Israel has little to do with which sect of Islam one comes from. Leading this anti-Israeli campaign seems to be less about tangible action against Israel and more about rallying support across the Middle East. Then why does America speak out so vehemently against Iran and so strongly in favor of Israel? (Disclaimer to my response: what I am about to write is not anti-Semitic or racist as many of my best friends are Israeli and Jewish. The reason I put this disclaimer is that I believe there are pockets of Jewish communities across the world who have brainwashed their followers into believing that politically speaking out against Israel is tantamount to racism. And I wouldn’t believe this if I hadn’t come face to face with such perspectives. I have been accused of being racist and anti-Semitic for making the following suggestions, which clearly do not fit the definition of racism or anti-Semitism.) Might it have something to do with the power of the Jewish vote in America? America’s Jewish population is extremely well-organized, well-financed, and influential. A few months ago, both John and Barack spoke at the center for America’s Israel Lobby, pledging to always stand by Israel. Further, American foreign policy still maintains, after nearly two decades, that Russia is still poses a grave threat to American interests. America still holds a strong anti-Russian bent. Again, we must ask why? While we are showered with tales of police brutality, KGB’s, and limits on expression (all of which America is also guilty of), we are not told how Russia’s economic and diplomatic strength can pose a direct (non-military) threat to America’s position as the world superpower. Russia is still very much on America’s radar screen though not so much in its newspapers.
Popularity contest. It’s interesting to notice how the media, which, thanks to networks like facebook, now belongs both to the big companies and us small individuals with blogs and facbeook accounts, has launched a massive hagiography campaign to associate Obama with all things beautiful, righteous, and fair. Obama probably doesn’t buy half the coverage swirled up about him in the media, but he would never speak out against such exaggerated sentiments since they are the ones that have propelled him to this position. Obama seems to have become more of a symbol rather than a politician. It is a typical (American) attribute to focus more on what an individual represents rather than what he/she actually is. These representations get adapted by people into their personalities, and because of the unhealthy focus media shines on a single individual so that we have a system where millions of individuals focus on one (as opposed to a more, truly democratized form of “media” where all individuals focus on one another), people start living vicariously through these media stars. Of course, political parties, corporations, and clever entrepreneurs who pick up on these trends, profit off this media frenzy, and use their resources to promote this lop-sided system to sustain their own wealth.
Regardless of what happens, I believe that we are seeing the gradual decline of America’s role as the word superpower. All empires of the world have risen and fallen. They follow the natural cycles of the earth, surging and receding like a wave. The Roman Empire, Ottoman Empire, French Empire, British Empire, the Soviet Union, etc etc., they have all surged, soared, receded, and fell back into mediocrity, waiting for the next opportunity to rise again. I just don’t understand this underlying obsession with power that everybody is after. Power is temporary, ephemeral. It might last the course of one’s lifetime, but it is not sustainable because the effectiveness of power relies on the weakness of others. And when others are weak, they become destabilized, marginalized, and disenfranchised of a standard living afforded those who live in the power sphere. These tensions generate wars, genocides, mass starvation and disease, and extreme poverty and inequality. Simultaneously, superpowers typically claim to promote ideals of just humanity, equality, and righteousness, but rarely practice such ideals themselves.
We need to reconsider how we run our world. What I’m talking about is a complete overhaul of a broken global system where wealth and power are not the primary objectives. I feel we are so entrenched in the way things are that we may never see the sun of a new way. What if we redrew the maps of the world and required that every country had to be the same exact size? Then, we took away all the weapons of this world, and stored them underground in one of these countries, and had guards to make sure nobody tried to sneak in and take them away. We could have a world governing council that ensured an equal distribution of resources for all countries. This would include supplies necessary to maintain quality health, education, transportation, sustainable energy alternatives (solar and wind first and foremost), and a high standard of quality housing. Dilapidated residences would be rebuilt, and overall, we would build this new model atop already existing structures.
Will it every happen? No. But is it dangerous to stop imagining the possibilities? Very.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
The infinite number of tourists milling around Florence inspired me to experiment with a new form of poetry where I simply sit down in a crowded area, and write down all the snippets of conversation I here. Nothing is filtered. Everything is included. I call this "found poetry". It is beautiful to see the interconnections between the words of strangers that can only dance together on the found poet's page.
The process is long and requires a lot of patience, but I think there is a lot of great potential for this idea. I would say it would take about a month of dedicated work, sitting in the field and recording all snippets meticulously, to really produce a truthful collection of found poetry. Here is my first one.
Found Poetry # 1, 10/14/2008. Florence, Italy
Yea, because that's the wrong bus stop
An aquarium down here?
All around the windows and above the windows
This is scary.
Where? Oh. Up ahead.
Anne, your shoe's untied.
I love it
Where we going from here?
Fourteen euro; could spend a couple hours there
With the - ah - tombs
Let's go back this way.
Broncos! Hahaha - Kansas City Chiefs.
Ahhhh - I'll never get up.
Did you see the one? That nazionale?
They scorned her
Oh my god. Oh my god.
Do you want to go to the museum and see if we can get in before 4?
Wait. What are we doing?
There's a little Italian band
Oh my god
There's where I want to go.
We'll stop on the way back
Something - um - maybe a music teacher.
Alright, Harvey. Let's go.
You know what we should do?
How long you been there?
It's ok. It's ok.
© All rights reserved. Raffi Wartanian and his discovery of found poetry.
Do these copyright symbols really do anything anyway? I highly doubt it.
Friday, October 31, 2008
I bet I can make your heart melt with my voice and fingers. Well, that depends on your taste. Anyways, here is a song I recorded last night of one of my favorite Beatles songs, "Michelle". I recorded all the parts on my computer over the course of two hours. It's no Debussy, but it's close...if you're really confused.
Here's the link to access my recording!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Thank you, technology. Your magnificent capacity has made it possible for the feeble human ear to hear the glorious imperceptibilies beyond human cognition.
So here is the link. It doesn't sound like an animal. Herzog points out accurately that is sounds more like Pink Floyd jamming. It definitely sounds like electronic music.
The fourth blue button begins a series of the seals various underwater calls. Enjoy!
Sunday, October 26, 2008
The sound of stammering madness
Bursting into a troubled vessel.
East coast professional
West coast freak.
Take me to a concert where the
World has let go of itself, and little
Red-horned beasts charge into eachother.
All that matters is nothing.
All that is has gone.
The empty cup is drowning with water
And a thousand tiny rocks kiss my souls.
Crooked back can’t hear nothing
Hiding in a cracked shell – red, white, blot
Plummeting down the fogged stratosphere
And pulls a strap to float so soft
Until the wind rips holes into the parachute.
Don’t believe in it but I’ll take it
Crying inside but I’ll smile
Need to turn away but I face-to-face it
Want to hate it but I love it.
Its sparkle takes mine away
Forced smiles etch pain into my wrinkles.
Time to find my mind hiding in my back pocket with the hard tissue that dissolves in my hand if I take too much of it.
Where is the grain of sand in this desolate pasture?
Where is the brain of man in this charred metropolis?
Run away, sleepy brain.
Keep your eyes shut and don’t even blink.
Think like it’s the first thought you’ve ever bought from a three-handed crumb peddler.
I’m here for a quickie
Got a camera in one hand
And a guidebook in the other
Walking like my first steps
Lookin’ for a good time
Within my price range
I’m just; me just
Here for a quickie
Then I gotta get back
To the real world,
Meal face laced with grace
Swirling about my inner outer space,
So make it quick and sweet
With a side of meat
And I’ll size up the world.
Have a look at this bridge
We need to see everything.
Giacometti statuettes for a few pennies.
We can argue for the price if you really want to,
If it really makes you feel that much stronger.
Systematic, aristocratic, dogmatic.
Cyclical blindness imbedded
In relentless internal pain;
The hallowist fellowship -
A rotting green apple
Has fallen from the barbie child's decorated hand.
Ceaseless insomniacs never stop
The self-imposed sufering.
Conflict trip masked in
Miles of smiles.
Monday, October 20, 2008
“Never in my life have I seen anything more grotesque than that Armenian. Imagine a small, close-cropped head with thick, beetling eyebrows, a bird-like nose, long grey whiskers and a wide mouth with a long, cherrywood chibouk sticking out of it. This small head was clumsily stuck on to a scraggy, hunchbacked torso garbed in fantastic costume: a short red jacket with sky-blue, baggy trousers. This person walked around with legs wide apart, shuffling his slippers, speaking with the pipe still in his mouth – but at the same time bearing himself with typical Armenian dignity, never smiling, goggling his eyes and trying his hardest to ignore his visitors.”
Wow. Very flattering, Anton. Actually, I don’t take it personally. Why would I? In hindsight, I tend to agree with Anton: while Armenian men are not the most aesthetically pleasing, the women are the polar opposite (for the most part…when you can get beyond all that makeup). Chekhov did not miss a beat on this. A few pages later, the short’s protagonist encounters the old Armenian man’s daughter, Masha:
“An artist would have termed the Armenian girl’s beauty classical and severe. The contemplation of just this type of beauty, God knows why, thoroughly convinces you that the features before you are regular, that hair, eyes, nose, mouth, neck, bosom and all the movements of this young body have been fused by nature into perfect harmony and she had not erred, not even in the most minute detail. Somehow you imagine that the ideally beautiful woman should have a nose just like Masha’s, straight but slightly aquiline, the same large, dark eyes, the same long lashes and the same languid glance. Her curly black hair and eyebrows are the perfect match for the delicate whit color of her forehead and cheeks, just as green reeds suit a quiet stream. Masha’s white neck and young bosom are not fully developed, but feel that only a great artist could sculpt them. Looking at her you are gradually filled with the desire to tell the girl something particularly pleasant, sincere and beautiful, something as beautiful as herself.”
Is it acknowledging my mortality? Partly. Is it an objection to elevating the importance of a single day in the year above all the others? More so. Is it that feeling of pressure to make this single day super special, the way many go about hyper-exaggerating new year’s celebrations? Definitely more so.
Why do some say that the birthday is more important than other days of the year? Well, because it is the day one was born X number of years ago. As a result, the logic goes, this is the day that we step back and celebrate your life. This is a day to celebrate your life.
I’m sorry, but why just one day? I prefer making each and every day a celebration of my life. No, I don’t mean walking around everyday with the pointy-happy-birthday-hat, or having birthday cake after each and every dinner. But honestly, every day is a celebration of life. Each breath is an opportunity. There is a whole market of retailers who profit off the mentality that specific days must be designated for specific purposes, and thus justify extra expenditures to display a reverence to this perspective. Holidays and birthdays are, of course, fun. But have you ever stopped to think that industries make profits off of those of us who use the line, “That’s ok, it’s a holiday!” to justify buying party streamers with Turkeys on them, balloons that say “Happy Valentine’s Day”, or Would Chuck E Cheese, or Party Time Pizza, exist if this attitude did not exist?
I am afraid that I sound like a bitter and scrupulous old man. My old friends Karin and Marie told me that I have an old soul. I tend to agree, but take it one step further. I think I was born very mature, and as I “age”, I become less mature. A two-dimensional graphic demonstration, if you will. If maturity is represented by the Y-axis (is it usually done that way? I was never the best science student, but for this example, it really does not matter) and the X-axis represented time, here is what it would look like
As you can see, I was born an elightened sage (as we all are), and by my 149th birthday on October 10th, 2135, I will be eating bananas on tree branches singing the melodies of Britney Spear’s great great great grandchildren. I can’t wait.
Maybe there is an evolutionary function behind this idea. Ancestral man, working ever-so-hard to secure the fundamental components of survival (roof, food, mate), must have taken time at regular intervals to stop and celebrate a life that their rigorous work pace made them forget. These regular intervals might have originally occurred within periods of one week. For example, once every seven days, the Neanderthals would stare at the skies, go for swims, massage each other, and eat kitkats. Over time, perhaps specific emotions became significant on given days (of course with great diversity taking into account cultural variations and the celebrations that made more sense for a given people). This theory is running out of steam, so I invite you to expand on it.
I think we should do away with all birthdays and holidays altogether. Rather, let’s have fireworks every morning. Then we can go to an amusement park in the afternoons. And to top off the day, we can eat greasy pepperoni pizza at Party Time Pizza and watch mechanical rats and bears rock out to pre-recorded pop hits.
In Milan, in a hotel room I shared with my aunt Karine Koroukian, I woke up at 4am with a devastating itch. Karine had cracked our windows open to let in some fresh air seventeen stories above the city’s centrale stazzione. She had inadvertently let in a few mosquitoes that had a feast on my blood. I could not stop scratching myself, trying to ignore the pain, trying to fall asleep. Sleep escaped as the itch spots seemed to take over my body and my hands felt useless in alleviating the burning need to fix it. Then, images of the global economic crisis and cyclical war flashed in front of my eyes, and I had this inexplicable urge to sit and write. I did not want to turn on the light and disturb Karine’s sleep, so I went by the window and let the lighting of a nearby skyscraper illuminate the paper as I frantically scribbled these ideas pouring out of my mind, trying my best to make my arm move as fast as my mind was. Here is what I was able to capture from this “vision”. You may disagree with what I say as these sometimes represent some of my more extreme views, but I hope you do recognize that our world is reeling. Let’s go:
Our world is falling apart because we can’t take it anymore. Many of the rich are feeding off the misery of the poor. We’ve got a global distribution of wealth so unbalanced it makes my head spin. While consultants of various sorts and the aristocratic wealthy feast day after day, and Americans continue getting fatter (a sign of wealth, after all), the millions of poor across the world remain poor beyond repair – hungry, marginalized, desperate, sick, malnourished, deceived.
In last night’s debate, Obama said something to the effect of, “If Osama bin Laden and Al Qaeda are hiding out in Pakistan and the Pakistani government does not do anything to rout them out, then America must act, even if it means bypassing UN permission (the logic being that Russia and China would block the passage of any such resolution).” Obviously! That’s what any nation desperate to consolidate and preserve its power would say – and its become this double standard where other nations that use this kind of “f u world” rhetoric are perceived as dangerous threats who do as they please, and when we use it, it is no big deal. Every nation acts to promote its interest. Russia invaded Georgia to promote its interest without UN permission, but because America remains antagonistic towards Russia (on the surface because they do not promote “democracy” which supposedly America does…give me a break…but in reality because Russia’s wealth threatens America’s stability as the world’s strongest nation), the invasion enters the political discourse, thanks in part to the shallow debates and its narrow-minded “luminaries”, as a negative one because it is becoming clearer and clearer that that which is good for Russia, is bad for America. Unfortunately the political arithmetic is sadly simple.
Cyclical poverty drives humans to desperation as it generates greed, excess of consumption, and resource exclusivity. Those who benefit from this cycle do what they can to maintain it, believing in a system so delusional that it cannot see the world for what it truly is. It is as if man’s inherent goodness just stepped out of a shower, and looks into the mirror and sees only a faint silhouette of itself mired in a hazy fog. This figure reaches to wipe away the fog, but a man emerges from the mirror and slices off any and all extremities that attempt to remove the fog and reveal the reflection’s true nature. Indeed, the perpetuators of this system go so far as to mask it as fairness, right, and goodness, calling it “democracy, freedom, and capitalism”, and banding together with allies to promote these superficial ideals that mask what is really behind all of the world’s poverty, violence, and disillusionment -> the filthy, intoxicating pursuit of power.
For example, why does America insist that that Israel is its strongest world ally? Might it have something to do with how America’s Jewish vote and financiers are some of America’s most influential? Some might accuse me of anti-Semitism for suggesting such a thing, and those who do 1) know nothing about my love for my Israeli and Jewish friends and their cultural heritage, and 2) might react in such a way because they depend on this cycle as it forms part of their fundamental personal credo.
Political violence is increasing. Genocides are happening. The wealthy nations continue their relative strength against the poorer nations as poorer nations and people have no choice but to turn to desperate measures to destabilize a global economic and political status quo structured to keep them weak. And we have the audacity to characterize some of these desperate individuals as “terrorists” without examining the root of the issue. We are facing a global crisis that is just not financial, but shows how economies respond to these abuses of wealth and power. Rather than overhauling an unjust system in total disrepair, we fight to keep it alive, pumping in billions and billions more into “rescue packages”.
The world needs healing, but we keep investing our intellectual, financial, and moral resources into a smokescreen system that to me is just unsustainable. It will be our fall as a human race if we continue down this road. The more make up you use to mask your true face, the more you erode and ruin the natural beauty you already possess, replacing it with a delusional self-representation masking the true self.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Last night in Florence I was sitting on the steps of the church in Piazza Santo Spirito when my friend Camille pointed out a powerful sight. A young lad sitting in front of us had not bothered to pull his pants up all the way, which means that from behind him, we had quite the view of his inter-cheek space. I wrote a poem about it.
I just want to dive into that crack
Exploding from those sweet blue jeans.
Why that black belt?
Why bother with pants?
Celebrate your crack, man,
Stop the teasing.
100,000 leagues under the crack,
Infinite hairs, a black hole,
The deepest mystery in our galaxy.
What hideth you inside?
A chicken? A pasture of sunflowers?
The secret of life?
Give me some goggles
And a SCUBA tank:
It's time to dive.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
After my parents left Milan for home and I was on my own once again after about two weeks of quality and intensive family time, I took a train to Florence where I would spend my remaining days in Italy. I was in a second class car with two sets of three seats, facing each other. At one point in the middle of the ride, a gorgeous Italian girl sat across from me and one seat to the left. I was compelled to write a poem about her. I don’t know why. Before I share the poem, I will share my written reaction the moment after handing her the poem as she disembarked the train and I, presumably, saw her for the last time.
“I wrote a second copy of this poem and gave it to her. I waited for our packed car to begin disembarking. An old lady stood between us. “Sorry,” I said, loud and abrupt. She didn’t hear. The slicked up, gel-haired guy behind her perked his ears. “Sorry,” I repeated. Louder this time.
She looked at me. Those eyes. “I wrote this for you,” I told her. She was confused for a moment as I extended the folded green paper towards her. “It’s a poem I wrote for you.” She grabbed it, dumbfounded, smiling. “For me?” she asked. “Yea. For you.”
She took it and I returned to my seat by the window to let the many disembarkers waiting behind me get to the door – and to let her go and feel the effect of the gesture, and fire imbedded in this somehow antiquated exchange. I sat and felt the eyes of the other guys in the car searing into my back, likely annoyed by my taking an opportunity that passed through their minds.
I looked into my book (Scott McLellan’s What Happened), then out the window. She was standing there, looking at me. A big smile. I kept my pokerface as our eyes met. Then I returned a softer, subtler, (manlier?) smile. Her’s grew, my heart pounded, but I felt a certain safety caged inside the traincar. The train started, and she walked off.
“Don’t look,” Baron Antoine once said in Tuscany,
“But she’s got a classic beauty.”
I smiled. “Hey,” he warned. “I know what you’re thinking. Stop.”
Her cheeks are feather soft
Under the blanketing fluorescence,
She’s like a mythic statue carved by the alter
Of a grand, 17th century Cathedral.
I want to celebrate her hair,
The way it reveals just enough of her
Incredible features to make my heart flutter;
Like curtains draped half-heartedly
Over a window with the most spectacular landscape you’ve ever seen.
Are the rips in her jeans intentional?
Or just the sign of daily grinds,
Casting a glimpse of her tender skin,
Olive tone streaks too true for the naked eye.
She’s a breathing portrait,
An estuary of life and longevity
Her love is a faint mist
In a scorching inferno.
The waves of the Mediterranean
Streak along her shoulders,
An auburn-chestnut medley
To be her sweatshirt.
A pillow wrapped in her arms.
To be engulfed in her scent.
At the end of the poem, I wrote, “I saw you and had to write this poem.” And left my name and email. I've realized, however, that it's not about the contact. I could care less if she contacted me. It was about reaching out to her in that moment, and experiencing that connection with her. Her smile. It really was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. It is imprinted into my memory.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
1. Go to the bottom of any post and click on the link that says "0 comments", or "1 comment", etc.
2. In the "leave your comment" box, leave your comment.
3. In the "choose an identity" box, you can choose "anonymous" if you do not have an account with gmail, blogspot, wordpress, etc. If you do, then choose the appropriate option.
Could this have been a more boring post? I don't think so. But I promise I've got some goodies in store.