tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43630511666816596322024-02-21T19:47:57.215-08:00THE JELLY SHOW"a jelly fish went on by and stung me in the eye and I began to cry and then I finally die...d."g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-22073679462630158152009-12-13T22:12:00.000-08:002009-12-17T00:25:17.856-08:00FreckleAm I a writer?<br />Do I write in order to become a writer,<br />or is it like a nose, or my eyes.<br />Something is simply is. A part of my human <br />complexion.<br />Speckled words freckled on my screen,<br />lines, aged lines, that form in the ridges of a<br />well-thumbed page.<br /><br />I sneeze. and I write it. Immediate yet conscious.<br />I don't think it should be conscious, only immediate.<br />Like the grabbing of her arm when I walk.<br />It should be like brushing my teeth. Maybe writing <br />would be more unconscious if I didn't think about <br />brushing my teeth.<br /><br />Meanwhile I have these words of others.<br />The ones I must analyze, scattered and dispersed,<br />for points. Freckled in my <br />periperhary. She uses words like iridescence and <br />emerald.<br />It's understated and calm. A meditation in the form <br />of precise, extraordinary detail.<br />Like a scientist describing the phenomenon of <br />feeling, silver and cold dark deep.<br /><br />I wonder what will become of these hands. Will they<br />hold yours or another. Will they always seek yours<br />in ways that aren't how you think.<br />I want your hands like a child?<br />To walk the woods with you and teach you my <br />freckles. Like ancestors.<br />I want to skim stones with you and speak until<br />all sense falls asleep.<br />Watch the cinema shots that make you inhale, <br />involuntarily.<br /><br />It seems hopeful, too human? It seems true. Little <br />and golden.<br />Simple two.<br />Words and hands and eyes.<br />That way others can hold your small body and dip<br />the tip of their noses into your heart that is oversized,<br />like the snow flakes that press themselves down on <br />the small<br />branches of a young oak tree.<br /><br />I can then go and see if others smile like I do.<br /><br />I can see if others have beautiful eyes. "I'll watch you <br />through the smokey haze."<br />We have metaphysical string tied in a deep full bow <br />between us. <br />And it's made of silverwood. Elastic and firm. It <br />swims and freezes but it unties, never. <br /><br />Silverwood like hazelwood but made of moon <br />and the sky on cold days. Made out wind and that<br />soft sound you make when you wake in the morning.<br /><br />I still feel lost, like an old traveller. Pocket knife <br />worn and stupid, and brass leather bag filled with hours. <br />There will be this feeling until I find another <br />traveller.<br />Take me with you. Let me clasp your pinky as<br />they cheer. <br />As people grow from you, let me swing <br />on that disobedient curl. Winter comes and let me <br />sleep in the arc of your neck in between the vertebra.<br /><br />One day when our joys and tears write <br />themselves into our old freckles and the creases of faces,<br />We will smile knowingly and pick them away, one <br />by one. Until all that is left is simple and two and <br />golden.g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-40752481791410012022009-12-06T14:52:00.000-08:002009-12-06T14:55:40.484-08:00not a Twitter plug, honest.<object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/x3E8CeYhuLE&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/x3E8CeYhuLE&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object><br /><br />(but, in case you're desperately curious, @shellbelle6 & @gijohazelwoods)g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-52357964044057992232009-11-03T18:40:00.000-08:002009-11-03T18:46:20.785-08:00"you're right, it is like a kitten... f*cking kitten..."<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6ZRWl_SE8zoq_-DbVd219NTHMKhI9tI3bZwg0xnYvCmzk_3aXBRgM-feMKtAjDhwumpYEIAwD_nkkRUjtM7YdCAbJ3Fih5pd4lhLLk91BBvFQYsMe3Rsck7rQnUZtrJcTzYQgZjy6pg/s1600-h/Image035.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6ZRWl_SE8zoq_-DbVd219NTHMKhI9tI3bZwg0xnYvCmzk_3aXBRgM-feMKtAjDhwumpYEIAwD_nkkRUjtM7YdCAbJ3Fih5pd4lhLLk91BBvFQYsMe3Rsck7rQnUZtrJcTzYQgZjy6pg/s400/Image035.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400074018199784354" /></a><br />And here is where my love for my family (and for this song of indescribable beauty and wisdom) acquires physical embodiment :) what we do for 'em, eh?<br /><br />p.s. that's the sister in shot :)g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-62583174033704708422009-11-01T17:25:00.000-08:002009-11-01T17:39:51.443-08:00Allah, Allah, Allah<object width="446" height="326"><param name="movie" value="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><param name="bgColor" value="#ffffff"></param> <param name="flashvars" value="vu=http://video.ted.com/talks/dynamic/ElizabethGilbert_2009-medium.flv&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/ElizabethGilbert_2009.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=432&vh=240&ap=0&ti=453&introDuration=16500&adDuration=4000&postAdDuration=2000&adKeys=talk=elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius;year=2009;theme=words_about_words;theme=speaking_at_ted2009;theme=the_creative_spark;event=TED2009;&preAdTag=tconf.ted/embed;tile=1;sz=512x288;"><embed src="http://video.ted.com/assets/player/swf/EmbedPlayer.swf" pluginspace="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" bgcolor="#ffffff" width="446" height="326" allowfullscreen="true" flashvars="vu=http://video.ted.com/talks/dynamic/ElizabethGilbert_2009-medium.flv&su=http://images.ted.com/images/ted/tedindex/embed-posters/ElizabethGilbert_2009.embed_thumbnail.jpg&vw=432&vh=240&ap=0&ti=453&introDuration=16500&adDuration=4000&postAdDuration=2000&adKeys=talk=elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius;year=2009;theme=words_about_words;theme=speaking_at_ted2009;theme=the_creative_spark;event=TED2009;"></embed></object><br /><br />"Shelly: omg. jo can you watch something for me?<br /> i thought it was awesome<br /><br />Jo: yeah sure<br /> but you have to watch this first<br /> unless you've already seen it haha<br /> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnhgpVb-u5s<br /><br />Shelly: http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html<br /> <br />Jo: Sally Field's most critically acclaimed work<br /> <br />Shelly: PAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA<br /> omg<br /> Ok mine is on an altogether different level. haha<br /> <br />Jo: hahaha<br /> yeah I'm watching<br /> seaweed haha<br /> afraid to be a chemical engineer haha<br /> <br />Shelly: haha<br /><br />Jo: drinking gin at nine o'clock in the morning hahah<br /> oh my cod I love this woman<br /><br />Shelly: I KNOW right! I knew you would :) I did also. wait it get better.<br /> s<br /> <br />Jo: Rome, ooog<br /> *oooh haha<br /> Dobby hahaha<br /> <br />Shelly: hahahaha<br /> yes<br /><br />Jo: swallow the sun oh my goddess<br /> <br />Shelly: :) nodds knowingly<br /> <br />Jo: faeries hahaah<br /><br />Shelly: I'm sure there could be some scientific objections..... but.<br /> haha<br /><br />Jo: "excuse me, can you not see that I'm driving?"<br /> my god, that is exactly the kind of thing I do<br /> <br />Shelly: :D yes.<br /> It rings true right?<br /> i thought she was awesome. i want to get her bok.<br /> haha *book.<br /> i want her bok choy. haha<br /> <br />Jo: literal immediate out-loud response?<br /> tears up "oh my god, this woman is- has a genius..."<br /> <br />Shelly: :D<br /> i knew you would appreciate it!. there is another really awesome one but it's for another time. the talker is less cool than her.<br /> <br />Jo: haha ok: :)<br /> seriously, kudos and thankfulness for finding that<br /> can we embed it on TJS?"g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-29195240640742819092009-09-28T08:46:00.000-07:002009-09-28T08:47:07.722-07:00As promised...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gR1OA8vLmV0&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gR1OA8vLmV0&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span>g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-77605642395393520262009-09-10T16:38:00.000-07:002009-09-10T16:41:58.982-07:00So I find myself in Canada...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E1DNZjSBQTs/SqmOZF2JayI/AAAAAAAAACM/GOAnQFCyQLk/s1600-h/DSCF0040.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E1DNZjSBQTs/SqmOZF2JayI/AAAAAAAAACM/GOAnQFCyQLk/s320/DSCF0040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379987791587928866" /></a>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-56523399601954193622009-09-06T18:43:00.001-07:002009-09-10T18:47:06.596-07:00"A Case Of You"Just before our love got lost you said<br />"I am as constant as a northern star" <br />And I said "Constantly in the darkness <br />Where's that at?<br />If you want me I'll be in the bar" <br /><br />On the back of a cartoon coaster <br />In the blue TV screen light <br />I drew a map of Canada <br />Oh Canada <br />With your face sketched on it twice <br />Oh you're in my blood like holy wine <br />You taste so bitter and so sweet <br /><br />Oh I could drink a case of you darling <br />Still I'd be on my feet <br />oh I would still be on my feet<br /><br />Oh I am a lonely painter <br />I live in a box of paints <br />I'm frightened by the devil <br />And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid <br /><br />I remember that time you told me you said<br />"Love is touching souls" <br />Surely you touched mine <br />'Cause part of you pours out of me <br />In these lines from time to time <br />Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine <br />You taste so bitter and so sweet <br /><br />Oh I could drink a case of you darling <br />And I would still be on my feet <br />I would still be on my feet<br /><br />I met a woman <br />She had a mouth like yours <br />She knew your life <br />She knew your devils and your deeds <br />And she said <br />"Go to him, stay with him if you can <br />But be prepared to bleed" <br /><br />Oh but you are in my blood <br />You're my holy wine <br />You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet<br /><br />Oh, I could drink a case of you darling <br />Still I'd be on my feet <br />I would still be on my feet<br /><br /><br />© 1970; Joni Mitchell <br /><br /><br />(cover to follow soon, we can but hope)g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-70814065809525462452009-09-02T05:12:00.000-07:002009-09-02T05:14:29.320-07:00Just checking in.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E1DNZjSBQTs/Sp5hfiP4ASI/AAAAAAAAABk/MdTymE5VIAo/s1600-h/canada.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 154px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_E1DNZjSBQTs/Sp5hfiP4ASI/AAAAAAAAABk/MdTymE5VIAo/s320/canada.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376842199524180258" /></a>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-81093983347791583062009-08-06T17:36:00.000-07:002009-08-06T17:40:49.454-07:0011:42 am, July 31st '09It's been a long time since I was sat here on my bed waiting for a call.<div><br /></div><div>It's been even longer since I've expected one from you.</div><div><br /></div><div>My insides are turning; I'd eat to pass the time but it wouldn't stay.</div><div><br /></div><div>I shake.</div><div><br /></div><div>I wait</div><div><br /></div><div>to tell you how,</div><div>even now, </div><div>with this truce in place,</div><div>my fingers fight-</div><div><br /></div><div>first spelling out your number like it were their own name,</div><div>then knee-jerk refusing to dial.</div><div><br /></div><div>And somehow you are here,</div><div>in my city, just as I've cracked-</div><div><br /></div><div>but why would this surprise me?</div>g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-13665999083769064302009-04-06T10:43:00.000-07:002009-04-06T10:59:33.354-07:00New<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E1DNZjSBQTs/SdpC3yGFL0I/AAAAAAAAAA4/AgxL1I5RiYk/s1600-h/Haircut.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 237px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_E1DNZjSBQTs/SdpC3yGFL0I/AAAAAAAAAA4/AgxL1I5RiYk/s320/Haircut.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321639435799179074" /></a><br />Awesome, love it.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-66194886604122915832008-12-24T15:35:00.000-08:002008-12-24T15:37:26.903-08:00Happy Holidays<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyPVHLZttu8-CKTmETr1jCgFPZNzTGdlL0k8SED7lfSgMLDI_qxsz9ZGS7HWwAg2DNstbC0CUJj-zpQpl9fn7Z4FLu2FdomuEAfpT-Fhsn4xQ_paR9EL6oeIifCFfWSxH-jCyDFJhUBY/s1600-h/fireflyers.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 282px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyPVHLZttu8-CKTmETr1jCgFPZNzTGdlL0k8SED7lfSgMLDI_qxsz9ZGS7HWwAg2DNstbC0CUJj-zpQpl9fn7Z4FLu2FdomuEAfpT-Fhsn4xQ_paR9EL6oeIifCFfWSxH-jCyDFJhUBY/s400/fireflyers.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283504875574951074" /></a>g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-79212028494946479432008-10-26T09:43:00.000-07:002008-10-26T09:45:17.584-07:00into inkThe release in purging my subconscious onto a page;<div>the stifled spilling, stumbling out and into ink,</div><div>and somehow landing in somekind of sense,</div><div>of beauty even, or a tripped heartbeat.</div>g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-16005290922910179142008-10-22T02:44:00.000-07:002008-10-22T02:48:08.679-07:00All the mavericks in the house put your hands up!<object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" data="http://widgets.nbc.com/o/4727a250e66f9723/48feec8762990da0/4741e3c5156499a7/2f5f26fa/-cpid/5d309ca411b32507" id="W4727a250e66f972348feec8762990da0" width="384" height="283"><param name="movie" value="http://widgets.nbc.com/o/4727a250e66f9723/48feec8762990da0/4741e3c5156499a7/2f5f26fa/-cpid/5d309ca411b32507" /><param name="wmode" value="transparent" /><param name="allowNetworking" value="all" /><param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always" /></object><br /><br />one two three<br /><br />my name is sarah palin you all know me<br />vice president nominee of the gop<br />gonna need your vote in the next election<br />can i get a ‘what what’ from the senior section<br />mccain got experience, mccain got style<br />but don’t let him freak you out when he tries to smile<br />cause that smile be creepy<br />but when i be vp<br />all the leaders in the world gonna finally meet me<br /><br />how’s it go eskimo<br />(eskimos)<br />tell me what you know eskimo<br />(eskimos)<br />how you feel eskimo<br />(ice cold)<br />tell me tell me what you feel eskimo<br />(super cold)<br /><br />i’m jeremiah wright cause tonight i’m the preacha<br />i got a bookish look and you’re all hot for teacha<br />todd lookin fine on his snow machine<br />so hot boy gonna need a go between<br />in wasilla we just chill baby chilla<br />but when i see oil lets drill baby drill<br /><br />my country tis a thee<br />from my porch i can see<br />russia and such<br /><br />all the mavericks in the house put your hands up<br />all the mavericks in the house put your hands up<br />all the plumbers in the house pull your pants up<br />all the plumbers in the house pull your pants up<br /><br />when i say ‘obama’ you say ‘ayers’<br />obama. (ayers) obama (ayers)<br />i built me a bridge - it ain’t goin’ nowhere.<br />(ohhh)<br /><br />mccain, palin, gonna put the nail in the coffin<br />of the media elite<br />(she likes red meat)<br />shoot a mother-humpin moose, eight days of the week<br /><br />[three gunshots]<br />now ya dead, now ya dead,<br />cause i’m an animal, and i’m bigger than you<br />holdin a shotgun walk in the pub<br />everybody party, we’re goin on a hunt<br />la la la la la la la la<br />[six gunshots]<br /><br />yo i’m palin, i’m out!Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-64021335233360640622008-10-15T02:31:00.000-07:002008-10-15T02:35:55.624-07:00KT Tunstall writes..."Friday, September 26th<br />Plane landing at Kangerlussuaq<br />We could see the east coast of Greenland, indifferent, majestic, and there they were – icebergs from above!! Aaaarrr!! We were suddenly all toddlers, looking down on the little minty sailboats being shoved out of the nest of the shore, forced to take off on voyages from which they would never return. Ever diminishing, ever more alone. Gliding off into the vastness. <br /><br />5 hours sailing down the gargantuan straight of Sondre Stromfjord, the light starts to get soaked up by the time. Like a waking dream. Milky green sea that looks alive. A beautifully perfected valley scraped out of the landscape as our guide, singing us out of its mouth. The weirdness. The spook. That half-light that makes you feel like the whites of your eyes are glowing. A low-lying cloud that turns a scottish landscape into a science fiction set. The boat is full and buzzing like a hive. The Belgian-Danish bar and restaurant manager Jan (Yan? Xian?!) has the best and weirdest burr on his r’s I’ve ever heard. Want to teach him the Ragged Rascal Ran toungue twister.<br /><br />Sunday, October 5th<br />Our last day<br />You know that Apple Mac screen saver with the cosmic tracer thing swirling around? About 10 of us were stood on deck late night and looked up at the same time that it escaped out of someone’s laptop, gained gargantuan proprtions and launched itself out of the sky above our heads in neon green; spinning, speeding, an incredible Catherine Wheel firework that made us all scream. I stayed out there for an hour and a half in minus ten, making myself laugh as my frozen face was about 5 seconds behind any words I tried to say. The best light show in the world.<br /><br />Stayed up in the bar pretending we didn’t have to leave at 5am, gabbing away to my rad new sister Vanessa Carlton and dancing to Bill Withers.<br /><br />Grabbed a couple of hours sleep and woke up to my last bowl of porridge and rumours that Graham Treehugger was going to enjoy a morning dip in the sea/liquid nitrogen. We all ran out reminiscent of a fight at school, and there he was in his swimmers, barefoot and perched on the railings 15 feet above the water. We thought he was going to die. He didn’t die, he splashed around delighted, whooped, climbed up to the 4th level at 30 feet and jumped in again. The thermometer was reading -15 outside.<br /><br />Now, I remember going in the ladies pond on Hampstead Heath one scorching weekend in late April and was instantly paralysed and unable to remember my name. Who was this man?! Impressive.<br /><br />My lasting memory was the tide line back on land. In the virgin dawn light I saw that the only flotsam left by the sea on the beach was a thin line of ice; pure white, in the shape of a wave.<br /><br />Ryuichi had told us when he played his recording of an underground glacial stream that it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. The sound of water that was frozen solid before human beings even existed, heard for the first time, unspoilt, no particles of plastic. Baby water. Old as the earth.<br /><br />As we waited to board our plane, a Greenlandic choir sat at a table in the golden morning sun, absent-mindedly eating sandwiches and practising one of the same songs we had heard at the children’s home.<br /><br />Beautiful, mournful, comforting, ancient, innocent.<br /><br />Posted by KT on the 9th October, 2008"Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-11504140381257809672008-10-01T11:17:00.000-07:002008-10-01T11:19:52.672-07:00from Al Seckel's preface to "Bertrand Russell on God and Religion"In conclusion, there is a marvelous anecdote from the occasion of Russell's ninetieth birthday that best serves to summarize his attitude toward God and religion. A London lady sat next to him at this party, and over the soup she suggested to him that he was not only the world's most famous atheist but, by this time, very probably the world's oldest atheist. "What will you do, Bertie, if it turns out you're wrong?" she asked. "I mean, what if -- uh -- when the time comes, you should meet Him? What will you say?" Russell was delighted with the question. His bright, birdlike eyes grew even brighter as he contemplated this possible future dialogue, and then he pointed a finger upward and cried, "Why, I should say, 'God, you gave us insufficient evidence.'"g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-84418236186517518972008-10-01T10:56:00.000-07:002008-10-01T11:08:49.176-07:00"Language is surely too small a vessel to contain those emotions of mind and body that have somehow awakened a response in the spirit."-Radclyffe Hall<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXqd0ItilCWWYFhCht4CzEyYJdK4J0EM2qyszw-ZPBtJdoHLaRt-3AizEtvg-4ekUWadhe2MJPsI5o_z0W3ZCyNTKYdWjT6aMqD9sV2BS-JiXmE8wMv3HGT0S95_Va2cDxLb6_jaVeh2Y/s1600-h/lake.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252248740705205458" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXqd0ItilCWWYFhCht4CzEyYJdK4J0EM2qyszw-ZPBtJdoHLaRt-3AizEtvg-4ekUWadhe2MJPsI5o_z0W3ZCyNTKYdWjT6aMqD9sV2BS-JiXmE8wMv3HGT0S95_Va2cDxLb6_jaVeh2Y/s400/lake.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-40458222005798070822008-09-25T15:03:00.000-07:002008-09-25T15:13:08.955-07:00Krish<div>Krish - piwrite.blogspot.com, inertialcartwheel.blogspot.com, goldpondfish.blogspot.com<br />(the always mindblowing, whose new works we excitedly check for every time we're online).<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>FEBRUARY 16th, 2008</div><div><br /></div>Yellow cabs observe through worried mirrors,<br />When I stare at streetlights passing fast,<br />This city is crowded with lost glass slippers,<br />And five feet boxes of lives ajar.<br /><br />You wore orange on your lips when I worked my hands by,<br />Like a liquid pool of sunrise that burst upon my skin,<br />Time is but a pawn of hope, she whispered as we parted,<br />I watched as love quietly suffered your cost.<br /><br />They hum prayers under muted breaths,<br />Some chant through their friday night journeys,<br />When I watch the sea run by these rusted carriage railings,<br />My heart wells at the thought of where you might be.<br /><br />These days are filled with fragile dusks and dawns,<br />How many have I seen in passing with you?<br />How many have we broken through promises you made,<br />I'll map them on the sky and hope you find me some day.g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-64413504262139127712008-09-18T19:42:00.000-07:002009-10-02T19:57:02.313-07:00Perhaps "snowflake" would've been easier to spell. Or "buttercup"? :)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcgPEa4XmQc6hJD2LB0_ZlIDgWz5bzRUyzPDU4hPdhoP3ASyCvXxYU5ZUjRGlAL5_R72BHTxj8HxOdAY5S0Tw69oH4j7V7lwflEcBOHZFysIqR3Wm8Xp2WBGepsqc13ZPzI-r4fAS9waQ/s1600-h/DSC00524.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcgPEa4XmQc6hJD2LB0_ZlIDgWz5bzRUyzPDU4hPdhoP3ASyCvXxYU5ZUjRGlAL5_R72BHTxj8HxOdAY5S0Tw69oH4j7V7lwflEcBOHZFysIqR3Wm8Xp2WBGepsqc13ZPzI-r4fAS9waQ/s400/DSC00524.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388202002458482082" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikRvauqd7QMAr1L6K170Ravm7VDA8VIK-YveGQ48kuYeNI2SxcfIVerHoUFjO_iHJzaCvku25ClVbMP_-9edN8Hefl-7y5P97BFzK83sPl09N_E6oxQcxtROEDBnO0kYRLfQnWGbjJyKk/s1600-h/DSC00524.JPG"><br /></a>g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-85855857750488785272008-09-15T22:40:00.000-07:002008-09-15T23:05:50.153-07:00life above the smog line.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiieLc5Z67nY93k2qqQxEyx7lRupwqmbTMdIo9LoOn5gGjqir2puHTzve4bTFpCp5hwsMpd7SoouvJV4IocQ4AikMJyAMCcmuf_QXlawOy9LbW51KL2UVelNSCaA7dRRUPyThTjtc65Qq8/s1600-h/DSCF1810.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiieLc5Z67nY93k2qqQxEyx7lRupwqmbTMdIo9LoOn5gGjqir2puHTzve4bTFpCp5hwsMpd7SoouvJV4IocQ4AikMJyAMCcmuf_QXlawOy9LbW51KL2UVelNSCaA7dRRUPyThTjtc65Qq8/s400/DSCF1810.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5246495954476313570" /></a><br /><br />"Is that Central Par- a pigeon! Hello pigeon!"<br />"Take a photo!"g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-295580524195483862008-08-30T10:58:00.000-07:002008-08-30T11:01:12.838-07:00Fleetwood Mac, Rhiannon (Live '81)Seeing as Jo can't stop watching this, it really does need to be posted. Stevie at her most mesmerizing.<br /><br /><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7c3MsSdt9JQ&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7c3MsSdt9JQ&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-85366497469003739562008-08-29T14:51:00.000-07:002008-08-29T14:52:36.135-07:00Flavors of Entanglement<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qCAUgsJUSXY&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qCAUgsJUSXY&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>g.i.johazelwoodshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12545028335045810805noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-53507430023723541942008-08-26T04:57:00.000-07:002008-09-27T04:27:09.735-07:00Renascence, Edna St. Vincent MillayThe rain, I said, is kind to come<br />And speak to me in my new home.<br />I would I were alive again<br />To kiss the fingers of the rain,<br />To drink into my eyes the shine<br />Of every slanting silver line,<br />To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze<br />From drenched and dripping apple-trees.<br />For soon the shower will be done,<br />And then the broad face of the sun<br />Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth<br />Until the world with answering mirth<br />Shakes joyously, and each round drop<br />Rolls, twinkling, from its grass-blade top.<br />How can I bear it; buried here,<br />While overhead the sky grows clear<br />And blue again after the storm?<br />O, multi-colored, multiform,<br />Beloved beauty over me,<br />That I shall never, never see<br />Again! Spring-silver, autumn-gold,<br />That I shall never more behold!<br />Sleeping your myriad magics through,<br />Close-sepulchred away from you!<br />O God, I cried, give me new birth,<br />And put me back upon the earth!<br />Upset each cloud’s gigantic gourd<br />And let the heavy rain, down-poured<br />In one big torrent, set me free,<br />Washing my grave away from me!<br /><br />The world stands out on either side<br />No wider than the heart is wide;<br />Above the world is stretched the sky,—<br />No higher than the soul is high.<br />The heart can push the sea and land<br />Farther away on either hand;<br />The soul can split the sky in two,<br />And let the face of God shine through.<br />But East and West will pinch the heart<br />That can not keep them pushed apart;<br />And he whose soul is flat—the sky<br />Will cave in on him by and by<br /><div><br /></div><div></div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-21801660669490893942008-08-21T05:43:00.000-07:002008-08-26T05:09:57.837-07:00HomeNow, I've always thought home was a feeling<br />...but what if I was wrong,<br />and it turns out that home is a person,<br />when I thought that home was a song?<br />What of the home that you've felt like<br />since the fourteen-year-old us was dawning,<br />and the home of waking up beside you,<br />your hand slipped into mine with 'good morning'?<br /><br />Tell me home,<br />tell me love,<br />tell me something real,<br />tell me golden ages await bright.<br /><br />See, I thought that love was a feeling,<br />but what if it turns out I'm wrong,<br />and love is a cocktail of chemicals,<br />when I thought that love was a song?<br />What if my love is a downpour,<br />to become sad sharp pain at your hands,<br />and what if the ocean's a puddle,<br />and beached by debris, not golden sands?<br /><br />Tell me home,<br />tell me love,<br />tell me something real,<br />tell me golden ages await bright.<br /><br />Tell me when,<br />tell me true,<br />tell me how you feel<br />about living towards face to face goodnights.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-65183743151445546222008-08-21T05:35:00.000-07:002008-08-26T05:10:19.313-07:00Words This WorldDon't you see it baby, laid out like the blueprint of a city,<br />shines pure platinum in the rain.<br />How can you say maybe<br />to the charm of avenues I see so plain?<br />I could've sworn my sanity,<br />this mutuality I held so sure;<br />I would've signed my life away<br />on certainty I didn't love you more.<br /><br />You don't regret it baby, no you don't,<br />we could forget it happened but we won't.<br />You don't regret it honey, not a thing;<br />who would've guessed the words this world would bring?<br /><br />Don't you hold this promise, somewhere deeper<br />than the palm of your right hand?<br />Doesn't every premise in your spirit tell you<br />not to leave this land?<br />I think I see promises hide behind the<br />ambivalence of your words<br />sometimes, but then I never could ignore<br />the lawful weight of what I've heard.<br /><br />You don't regret it baby, no you don't,<br />we could forget it happened but we won't.<br />You don't regret it honey, not a thing;<br />who would've guessed the words this world would bring?<br /><br />My spirit aches with needing you,<br />I cannot take this silence,<br />tell me home.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4363051166681659632.post-44354535900418014412008-08-19T16:16:00.000-07:002008-08-26T05:08:40.927-07:00Smiling Underneath, Ani DiFrancoI don't mind waiting in line no no<div>I don't mind if the bills pile up and the work is slow</div><div>I don't mind the gas or the groceries or the grind</div><div>as long as I'm with you I'm having a good time</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't mind the stoner waiter or the poorly cooked food</div><div>I don't mind little miss kitty or her knuckle-head dude</div><div>I don't mind if every last person here is ugly and rude</div><div>as long as I'm with you I got a good attitude</div><div>as long as I'm with you</div><div><br /></div><div>We could be stuck in traffic for over a week</div><div>with a car full of quintuplets who are cutting teeth</div><div>around my neck could be a flaming christmas wreath</div><div>and I'd be smiling under smiling underneath</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't mind waking up early for a flight that's delayed</div><div>I don't mind our week's vacation was chilly and grey</div><div>I don't mind the traffic cops or the TSA</div><div>as long as I'm with you I'm having a good day</div><div>as long as I'm with you</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't mind spilling my hot-sauce onto my white shirt</div><div>I don't mind the twinge in my leg in that knee that I hurt</div><div>I don't mind my gums peeling back or my hair getting thin</div><div>as long as I'm with you I win</div><div>as long as I'm with you</div><div><br /></div><div>we could be stuck in traffic for over a week</div><div>with a car full of quintuplets who are all cutting teeth</div><div>and around my neck could be a flaming christmas wreath</div><div>and I'd be smiling under smiling under</div><div><br /></div><div>smiling underneath. </div>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com0