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The PhiLLer
That's Just Insipid!
The Cocktail Sermons

 
Öatmeal is Like a Curmudgeon"

Oatmeal is like a curmudgeon
without cinnamon and sugar,
it's a little hard to take
but once you get used to it
it's endearing in that
"sticks to the ribs"
sort of way
but still it makes me wonder
as the thoughts are pounding louder
whether curmudgeons could also lower cholesterol?
-EB, 1/30

I was told to play a little, as Knox liked my last sort of poem and said he could hear Bono mumbling it before screaming, "MIAMI!" Maybe I am really a Miami child, but I doubt it. I am cold weather breather and liver. If you will. And oh, I will. Even though right now I am in Nashville, it does get cold from time to time, but the incoherent weather is best - when it's supposed to be wintery mix and you get 50 degrees.

 
"Just spread out into lines and phrases in different lives and places" (not the title for the poem, but for the entry, just to clarify...)

I saw a man in sandals today
it wasn't quite that warm
drizzle bop not November
but still not sandals weather
and so I thought he must have
some sort of strange foot fungus
he doesn't want to share
with is other footwear

I don't know that Sartre or Camus would use a blog, to continue a conversation...They are old school, they seemed to be the writing kind, but not necessarily in the public format in that sense...but you could be right. I think it is strange that my blog (as it becomes more and more increasingly mine) is really an extended IM conversation between you and I. Think about it...my bad free style in the hip hop voice, our banter, and so on...just spread out into lines and phrases in different lives and places.


I'll leave off there, because I liked that last line so much.

Except one more...had a great radio show today, .lots of call ins telling me that they liked the music and that the transitions rocked and that I did an awesome show all in all....makes one warm and fuzzy inside.
Word.

 
Welcome back, indeed.

Sometimes I truly feel that there is no such thing as justice in the world. A friend of mine is an amazing musician, and got rejected from Yale graduate school today. Fuckers. The thing is, his piano instructor is an alum of Yale, and yet refused to / failed to pull some strings. What the fuck is that all about? Granted, he still has some lines cast out there, but even though I haven't seen him yet today, I know what to expect from his hot head. (Kristin gave me a head's up). Either way, can you blame him? When you finally figure out what you really want to do with your life, and then find that you aren't what you thought you were...it makes you question your very foundation down to the core. Am I worthy of these thoughts, this dream, this path - is it really mine? And I know that I went through the same thing when I was getting rejected from graduate schools. I felt it all the time again and again and again and again. And it sucked. What my professor at the time told me, as I lamented it being a difficult year in terms of grad acceptance, he told me not to worry, that life had something in store for me. I knew that he was right, but I didn't know how or why or when I was going to get there. Being gifted isn't enough sometimes. And like someone else told me once, "Sometimes the harder you try, the harder it is." So truth, as Marty would say. I dunno. I still get those little tingles of äm I good enough to pursue such and such a path - that being philosophy or the love of wisdom. And my dreams are anxious about it already, even though I am but at the beginning of my path. But every now and then you get those moments when you are burning to write about something, and it just flows and you don't have to try too hard, but it goes out of you in a way you can't quite explain. I live for days like that. I live for days when ideas really excite me, and when it is important where they come from and why. Evan had one of those days yesterday in a lesson with a new teacher - one of those days that opens things up for you and it's amazing. And today, like the fickle hand of fate, it kicked him in the ass. So what do I think? I think it will all work out for him. I think that he will end up where he is supposed to (like me in my pluralistic philosophy department) and will continue to love what he does.

This all sounds a little bit lame, but it's on my mind, so here it goes, right? I guess that is what this is all for. To sound out my thoughts even if they don't sound all that lofty. Right and right.

 
Testing...testing...

Ok, seems to be working. So I'm back from New York and trying to adjust to Nashville again. Seems downright balmy down here in the positive digits as compared to the flip chill bastardly weather that NY had in store for me. It's still cold here though -- anyone who thinks Nashville is warm enough to be Southern is wrong I tell you! Or southern enough to be warm (?) whatever.

Oakland got trounced, that is all I am going to say. They made a valiant comeback, but all for naught, as they continued to play and got scored on again.

What else? I feel inclined to write something because this blog is out like polyester lately. Which says something about my wardrobe choices, to be sure. Polyester bride and all that jazz. Nothing is really going on. Just lots of reading, and me being tired.

Off to do some work and catch a bite.