You Will Be Very Cold, For a Very Long Time

An interrupted centaur housefly
Vomiting on bread crumbs before
Galloping out into the sky
Outside, a stomach so sore

Indignant responses coming from
Relative's with pleasant lives
Vomiting on a bread crumb
Is not enough to survive

Still, beyond, and cool,
Flagellant strikes from a whip
Tips tinged with neglect
Bruises that internalize before
Resurfacing for false hope once more

A man offers wisdom: "It's okay
To be alone so far from your prime!"
But you know that
You will be very cold,
For a very long time

Everything all the time

      A blind bug in a box calls too many times about the thumping in the attic, because he can't tell if it's two lovers reckless entwined, or if it's the devil's handy man methodically hammering with an appetite for bugs with blind eyes and keen ears.

      I was full, about an hour ago.  I have felt this way a few times before, but I brim with feeling sometimes that for a moment I ache and almost wish it away and then realize how foolish that is, to slouch back towards neutral where I am used to being, used to yearning for being full where I decide not to slouch from.

I will shudder but then
After you peek
Into the gutter I'll
go but won't sleep

     My Grandmother's dogs have markings on their faces like tribal face paint.

     Today I was talking to a girl and she mentioned that she doesn't want to see ugly people kiss.  I realized that I hated her, but also that technically I suppose that makes sense.  But she sucks though.

    I just finished reading a book review and got a little emotional, though not to tears, which means ladies and gentlemen, that I'm too tired, and that I'm gonna read that book, which is called "Say Her Name."  Sounds tough.

    I love Radiohead.  I cherish what they've made.  Their music makes me happy often even if the song's tone is otherwise, because I feel as if what they've captured of life and beauty and all that stuff is more primary than the song's message itself.  That came out sounding silly, but I don't need to convince anybody of anything, Radiohead can take care of themselves.

    The first to wake will be rewarded with roses and responsibility.

    This has been a little disjointed and somewhat non-sequitur.  So be it.

You are Superman, and I am not Kryptonite

This is something, it is kind of disturbing, and if you'd like you can skip down to the non disturbing part of this blog post.
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      Mark's mother used to sing him to sleep.  He thought about this after work one day, and he wondered why that came into his brain.  Perhaps that sleep was like death, and the last thing he used to see many nights was the smiling face of Mom cooing him to a temporary death where dreams took him places but he would return to the land of the living soon enough.  Yes, that was probably it.  Death.
      Once, before Mark went to bed, he saw a shadow on his ceiling that was most definitely a killer clown.  Mark remembered that night being the worst of all, because despite closing his eyes, his fate was sealed, the clown was obviously going to eat him, and that was it.  Discovering himself strangely alive in the morning, Mark looked and there was no such shadow on the ceiling at all.  Yet every night the clown appeared anyhow.  Consistent Killer Clowns make for bad sleeping cycles, Mark mused.
       The most awful thing, Mark concluded, would be to see something truly terrifying and that was the last thing you ever saw.  The end of something always seemed to be the most important.  The end of books, the last thing your father says before you leave, the words spoken at the doorstep while you drop off a date, everything always came down to the end.
       Mark sat at breakfast while these thoughts brought Mark to another conclusion:  A bad death equals a bad life.  This was the first time Mark felt guilty about work, he realized.  This was because he'd interacted with a man whose final images were of Mark's dark arms pumping into the man's vision until the man couldn't see any longer and the last thing he ever experienced was hearing the sound of his own flesh softening against the continued ramming of Mark's knuckles until the man ceased to think.
       Mark looked down at his toast.  He decided on strawberry jam.  Was what he'd done essentially showing the man a killer clown before sleeping forever?  Mark laughed as he thought about this:  He'd been  dressed as a clown when he'd done the killing.  He did it because his boss told him to, the man in the white suit that only appeared while Mark was sleeping.  This never seemed to make sense during the day, the idea that a man in a white suit appeared to Mark in his sleep, but the man promised Mark pleasant dreams as long as he kept on working.
       Mark's failure to understand who the man in the white suit was and why he was asked to kill people at night dressed as a carnival nightmare by this man resulted in various people's heart stopping.  If only he could understand.  Over time he learned, slowly, what had been going on, what he'd been doing, but some would say it was too late.
        Too late was when he was humming a pleasant tune while washing his face of white pancake powder and red lipstick in a gas station bathroom and a man walked in.  Mark payed no attention to this.  There were no laws against wearing clown make up, despite the fact there perhaps aught to be.  After having shed this mask, he looked up and saw the man standing in the doorway.  One would not ask this man's occupation as it appeared that he too, was a clown, based on his appearance.  Mark stopped humming.
        Thirty seconds of struggle later, and Mark was winded and curled against the wall, already exhausted from when he'd been a clown, only minutes ago, and only now did it dawn on him what it all meant.  He knew who the man in the white suit was, why he was asked to work every night, and why this was happening to him right now.  He was unable to share his opinions very well as the clown began to beat down on him quite ferociously.  Like Mark had.  It consumed the clown, the act became him and he was murder, the very incarnation of it.  Back and forward, his arms swung and pushed and it became a violent rhythm that was never quite precise, so it lost any artistic virtuosity that previously had--well, it never really had existed had it?  The rhythm broke up his thoughts which were very quickly becoming all he had.
        An epiphany came to Mark that he'd been humming the song that his mother sang to him as a kid.  What was the name of song?  He couldn't remember.  He never did.
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Listen to this and love it:

   

I was reminded today while talking to a friend the other day that I'm awful at saying goodbye.  For some reason, the timing and proper words escape me and it is an abrupt vehicle often.  I like to think it's not a big deal, but if ever i've perpetrated a terrible escape for you in particular, I apologize.

About thirty minutes ago I talked to a guy who seemed cool and then got a little pretentious and spacey as he theorized about the difference between mainstream and indie, in the sort of way that he really liked to hear his own voice.  Then I read some things my friend wrote which were things of substance and they managed to come off as not pretentious or spacey, or perhaps they came off as Kevin Spacey, something that's always good.

      Sigh.  Kevin.  No it's fine, just sit there.  It's enough.  

The point essentially of what I'm saying above is that my friend is cooler than some guy I talked to in the creamery.  

I am so easily distracted.  One of the worst things in the world must be to have a problem with something that everybody else is pretty okay at.  I can say I'm distracted because lots of people are, they mention it in casual conversation often, sometimes every day.  It's a social crutch that we are familiar with and therefore tolerate and sometimes glory in.  It is what it is.

But how miserable must it be for the one who can barely distinguish reality from fiction and therefore has to avoid all forms of media entertainment or else they walk about decieved.  

There are much more common problems or differences that are poorly recieved.  People who appear unattractive physically, particularly women, are disdained seemingly out of basic instinct but really that's the worst, because some of those people are screwed for life.  If people like having attractive friends, it's safe to say many of them don't like having unattractive ones.  I don't have a nice way to wrap that topic up.

I'm going to go bake cookies now.  

The Happy Sad Effect

I get this kind of good anxious feeling when things go well for me I realized.  As if bad things must be on the horizon because I'm somehow undeserving of what's going down.  However it's especially hard for me to be down whilst listening to this song:

   

    I know nothing else about this artist at the time this post is being written.  Kudos to Scott for showing me this.  Where does the term kudos come from?  I don't actually care that much.  

    

    Movies that are sad don't always make me sad.  This is for multiple reasons, each dependent on the film:

1.  The movie was garbage.

2.  The movie was too manipulative without earning it.  This is the equivalent of coming on too strong romantically (I don't know if that makes sense):  The score comes in to let you know that it's sad but frankly you're not invested enough in the characters yet to be affected by the events and reactions transpiring onscreen, and so it has failed to emotionally engage you.  This does not mean the movie was bad necessarily, and perhaps it was interesting or even funny, breezy, or charming, but if you're not able to be upset at all by what's going on, the film's potential effect is severely hampered.

3.  Failure to identify with the characters/main crisis.  This is an interesting one, because a sign of a really  great film is the director getting you to feel exactly what she/he wants, even if that emotion is somewhat irrational given the circumstance.  For instance, and people might deny this in order to seem more sane, but Hannibal Lector, a cannibal, is incredibly likable in the film The Silence of the Lambs.  The director did this on purpose, because it makes him eerier that you like him so much despite his previous actions.  How this relates to sad movies:  The more preposterous a thing the director tries to make sympathetic, the better the movie has to be in order for it to work.  Suppose there's a movie about a father that begins to crumble under the pressure of life and the end of the film results in him murdering his family.  I know, holy crap, how is THAT movie going to work?  What I'm saying is, that movie better have a tremendous director, or else the only thing the audience will be thinking is "that dad sucks, I hope he rots in prison and then burns in hell."  Obviously there's a point in which seemingly no emotion can be salvaged if the screenplay is awful, but regardless of this example, I hope that point makes sense.

4.  The movie is truly beautiful.  Some people will disagree with me, but sometimes I feel that a film, usually because of it's sadness (which succeeded in engaging the viewer emotionally), is so wonderful because of the depth of emotion and what that means and all the nuances and effects that can have on the viewer and so on.  That was a fruity sounding sentence, someday I'll be a better communicator.  What this means is that the beauty overpowers the feelings of being down, or more often they accompany these sad feelings, I don't know how to express that.  Whatever.  I'd use examples of movies that are like this but I don't wanna ruin them for those who haven't seen them.  

     I'd like to clarify that sadness and depression are not one and the same.  Sadness requires the emotion of sorrow, it is a tragic emotion, whereas depression is more synonymous with submission, overwhelmed, hopelessness.  

     

     Instead of taking advantage of the end of Daylight Savings Time (Daylight Losing Time?), I um, wrote this.  

Deer and the future

Here's a poem


A Scolding:


How does it escape you?
is what I wonder most,
that perhaps somewhere deep within
the recesses of your decrepit mind
you've managed to fool yourself yet again


It's admirable actually
that kind of level of self deceit is reminiscent of genuine stupidity
I say this because you and I both know
that you are not a cat chasing a red laser
Cats don't know better


When you are the problem
All the perfume and fine clothes in the kingdom
would not add to the whole that is you
She might love everything on you
but as soon as she sees
What lies beneath
Well
These are rough seas sailor


But it's your blind persistence that baffles me
It's not blind you say?  Well then fine
I'll let you know when she thinks different
and in the meantime maybe monsters will pity a poor soul
I recommend you try and find 
someone who will buy junk for cheap
because some trash is some people's treasure
but some trash anyone will buy


And that's the scariest thought of all
That somehow you'll have to settle
for something not worth settling for
but for the fact that settling time is almost past
and then you'll have to settle in
for long years ahead
and maybe then misery will fade
to Melancholy

That was a poem.

It snowed today.  Pretty magical.  Me and some friends saw some deer the other day, and it reminded me that Deer are ridiculously majestic.  Bambi animators were probably begging the studio for five more sequels just so they could study the deer.

I think it'd be rad to have a pet reindeer but not tell anybody about it, so if people came over, it would just walk in from a back room and people would perhaps say "Micah I had no idea you owned a reindeer," and I would reply "Oh you didn't?  My, what a fault on my part, I guess it just slipped my mind.  Give me all your money."  In the future I apparently rob my dinner guests too.

Inside then Outside then North

That's the working title for the short film I'm gonna make in these upcoming weeks.

I just realized that what I wanted to say isn't a complete thought, and so it will have to wait.  Unrelated, my sister called just to talk today which is always nice, and I'm pretty sure I upset her because I brought up lots of un-relatable opinions I have about the institution of family.  But she was a trooper and didn't judge me.  She's a great person.  

I like having friends who are talented poets, because I feel really privileged to read their work, even though the world ought to read them too for art's sake.  Suck that world.  Just kidding thanks for falling leaves, looking good.  

I practically forced Brent into watching "Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog," a movie which I think is awesome (absolutely free on youtube ps).  I would brag about how cool Brent is, but I'll want to do that later when he turns out to have bat wings, which ps is always a sweet discovery, seriously, so any friends out there hiding those leathery appendages, there really is no need.  

Also person who sometimes says things in French, you're really great.  

Also, Micah, where'd you get to be so eloquent?  You don't know?  Stop drooling, it's bad manners.  Seems I've succeeded in mentioning myself in third person again.  

THATS JUST A TASTE.  Literally though, there's more.  

Way to go, Day

Something that I firmly believe will enrich everyone's life and definitely has my own is distinguishing between things that suck and things that are great or good.  This sounds really obvious, but I think it may be too obvious for the world at large.  Case in point, I used to have a friend, and still do know people that just LOVE everyone, and I have a feeling that they have dozens and dozens of best buds.  Is there a problem with that? one asks.  Yes, also get out of my house you burglar.  The one who asked me that was a philosophical intruder.

In The Incredibles, directed by Brad Bird and from Pixar, Syndrome makes the point that when everyone is super, no one will be.  Absolutely.  If one has loads of best friends that all receive that label, than none of them will feel all that special.  Likewise, if every day is great, then great days are kind of whatever (It's okay to have more than one good friend obviously, it's just important that each individual good friend is important to you, if that makes sense).  

The reason I bring this up is I had an awesome day.  It was different from other days.  It made me feel grateful for people that I saw and talked to, there was one person who laughed and smiled in earnest and it made me happy.  I saw Fright Night 3D at the dollar theatre and it was crazy worth it, full of "that's what's up" moments, I watched it with great people.  I came up with an idea for a short film and I'm gonna do it, and I'm excited about it.  It dawned on me that I talked to almost every friend that I care about here at college today, and my roommate is awesome, and WOW WATCH ME GO ON AND ON freaking A sorry, here's a song that was stuck in my head, that I also like:

It becomes apparent that it's hard for me to communicate how my day was good.  So imagine how this next song makes you feel, and maybe that's more correct:


Though both of these songs are maybe not really pro religion, that does not reflect how I feel about my chosen religion, the LDS one, sidenote.  Not that I think the message of these songs are invalid.  Next time, Micah will attempt at not being so longwinded.  

Dream

While talking to some friends after watching Memento, directed by Christopher Nolan (and is his best movie in my opinion, everyone go watch it, it gave Inception a ride to the Bowling Alley where Inception was then stood up on a date.  That's not really fair to Inception but lets just say Memento went home to it's supermodel husband YEAH THATS RIGHT ITS A GIRL.  This metaphor no longer makes sense), I remembered this dream I had.
         In the dream, my life was a video game, the kind where when you select the location you're going to, it's like a map with little dots that delineate levels in the game.  But it was real for me because I was the person.  Anyways the game was pretty dark, and the levels consisted of a creepy forest and other not happy places, and that stuff doesn't really matter because then I got to the end of the game, which took place behind all the other locations I'd been, meaning that I was working forwards in order to go backwards.
      So there's this oddly rectangular grey castle, with a huge balcony like thing near the top.  The castle is lit up with sky lights, and it's apparent to me that there's no one in the castle, save for me and the person I must defeat.  I walk onto the balcony, and he walks onto the opposite end, and we stare at each other.  End of dream.
    So there's no point to that dream except that it's crazy.  And pretty epic.  Be jealous of my unconscious imagination as a seven year old.  Yeah.  But ironically I remember that way more vividly than I do some concrete experiences that I had as a kid.  I'm alright with that.  I'm gonna try and be more concise with these entries.  My goodness.

Great Start

After finding out some pretty disheartening news yesterday, I've realized some rather hilarious things regarding the way people and I react to sadness and such.  I slept through my classes till one, and upon waking up, picked up an orange soda off the ground, drank from it, and promptly dropped it and spilled on the carpet.  Also an owl flew up to the window spouting the word "Loser," but he was long in the O's cause, um, he was an owl.

Formality dictates that when one asks "how are you?" in passing, you respond with "good!" or "good, how are you?"  So when people asked me I either lied or told them the truth, the latter of which just catches people off guard.  It's the funniest when it's someone that you really don't know well.  

"How are you?"

"I've been better."

"Oh."

Hilarioius.  In the future maybe stick with what's up if you don't want to get deep, world.  I'm being rather prickly, in reality people reacted pretty compassionately and so it turns out that some folks are okay, but the idea of that gets me.  

I think I'll probably share music pretty often since I want anyone reading this to feel like this had some substance at least.  So here's a song my friend showed me the other day: 

Listen to the harmonies and also the prettiness.  Both are important aspects of the song.  But seriously so are the lyrics, which I haven't delved into yet but some of the snippets are pretty enticing.  Hooray for songwriting.  

Hello

So I wanted to mention this epiphany that I had today because elsewise (This is not a real word but I just decided it ought to be) I'll forget it and then it will be lost forever and ever.

I think that a true sign of unique attraction is when you like something about someone that is typically ugly or can be seen as an error or faulty, like if someone pulled off a nervous twitch really well, or if they have crooked teeth and it's unnaturally beautiful.  Enough of that.

It snowed today!  I was walking to class and the clouds cut the mountains in half, and just below the line of precipitation there was snowfall on the mountain face.  Amazing.  

I realize now that I've wanted to make a blog for about a week now, therefore I'm brimming with things to say.  Instead of blurting them all out at once, here's a song I'm listening to right now, which also happens to be heartwarming and wonderful:  

They're Australian.  So are a bunch of people.  Go tell everyone.
I'm excited enough about this blog that I might post again today.