The Prodigal Daughter

The local free paper here is having a Haiku Contest. I have written some and here they are in their respective catergories:

Beverage of Choice:
Dirty Gin Martini
Like ocean water
Slipping on tongue and lips
Good to drown in you

Absurdly long Title:
Observance of the Weather In the Northwestern Region Of the United States of America
Constant and steady
The rain falls unconcerned with
Its intensity

Edidble Candy Coating that is Sticky and Sweet on A Hot Summer Day in The Desert
Melting in hand not
Mouth, an annoyance to the
Young sugar eaters.

Albuquerque:
Albuquerque
False oasis in
The middle of the desert
Transients converge

Misc.:
Fame and Fiction
Hollywood invades
With pampered non talent and
Tall camera cranes

The Texan
His texas draw was
Put on the shelf until he met
Her and then exhumed

Auto Bigraphical:
Failed Escapist
Eastern born yankee
Tried to escape from the rain
In the high desert

Tradtional:
Around Ankles
A rattle snake lies
In wait on a desert trail
Ready to strike out.

I hope that the postcard that I received yesterday is some kind of horrible joke. Otherwise it looks as if I have a stalker.
The front:

Ok just imagine this after getting home from a 14 hour day at work. The image on the front is creepy enough but this is the back:

Postmarked on Monday (got it on Tuesday). There is no name, though who ever it was spelt mine right and knew my address. I am really creeped. I also don’t enjoy the way that it alludes to what a fucked up person I am. No one gets to make that judgement call but me.

The chain is bent
Smaller and at an
Odd angle. water absconds
Its true shape.
Toes are bent at
Impossible angles
Peeping like heads
From the surface.

Bubbles on recognizance
Missions rise from
Legs straight out,
Almost buoyant,
Like a puppet; a marionette

String slackened body
In a dirty porcelain frame.
Slumped over from
Years of bad posturing
In rebellion as an
Impetuous child.

Seeking an exit route
Through an autumn
Cornfield maze that
Winds around against
An orange sky.
Masks contoured to faces

Popping out from
Impossible angles,
Ambushing the seeker
Into tearing through the
Bogus maze wall revealing

A building without
The structural supports
Necessary collapses on
Its already calumnous
Foundation that has
Been eroded by termites
And incessant weather.

Strings are pulled
And the stone grey
Body arises only to
Be crushed by the
Onslaught of steel
Girders, concrete and glass.

A Silver metal box on
Wheels hurtling through
Time at 80mph, which is
The speed of the highway,
Not light or sound,
But contains the cold
Frigid space that is the:

Interior

Of your thoughts playing
A pornographic film.
Alone in a cigarette-holed
Seat with popcorn
And empty sample sized
Lotion bottles on the
Cum-sticky and crusty:

Floor

In the bus rumbles
Underneath your feet
As you look across the
Destruction of the Gulf
Coast. I imagine broken
Sticks and tress; concrete:

Carcasses

Strewn across the ground
In monument to the
Constant disintegration
That is the untamed
Uncontrollable force without
Static, yet with a loaded:

Presence

Of you is absent. the
Desert calls you back,
A voice saturated with
Dust and sunsets, howling
Dog sounds at cacti and
Tumbleweeds but mostly:

Sand

Wished between your
Toes on a wet Miami
Day. unrecognized vegetation
Surrounds you slick, wet and
Heavy with disappointment;
Speaking cities with the:

Homeless

Generation that we belong
To, wearing proud badges
Of poverty and happiness,
Crouching in hovels of
Apartments paying an
Eternity of rental and:

Debt

Dragoons stomping after
Monetary holdings precious
To the form of archaic
Endangered lifestyles of
The public mass rising:

Up

To the north eastern towns
Where destin(y)ation awaits
In the form of tall
Buildings and stone walkways.
Feet pounding in tattered shoes
Falling from your feet:

Always

Ensconced in the scope
Of each other. No matter
The distance we are all
Intertwined in the same
Journey.

Note: Image Taken From: freelancer_marc’s flickr account

Here is a random obituary generator…this is what mine said:

‘What will your obituary say?’ at QuizGalaxy.com

Apparently music is responsible for teens having sex. According to a study done by Steven Martino, a researcher for Rand Corp. in Pittsburgh teens who listen to overtly sexual lyrics are almost twice as likely as kids that don’t. Whatever that’s supposed to mean. I don’t really know a time when modern music wasn’t about sex, drugs, and rocking and rolling. The article I read focused a bit much on hip hop, though the last time I checked everything from George Micheal to Danzig have sexually explicit lyrics. There is nothing new here. I am beginning to wonder how these studies are being funded and why. Blaming the media for people’s actions has always proved to be a tough battle and I would stop trying.

Let’s fund some research that’s actually helpful to the teen pregnancy situation such as better ways to communicate with adolescents about the issue instead of just blaming popular culture. Our task should be education covering everything: abstinence, prevention of the spread of disease through the use of prophylactics, ways to control/prevent teen pregnancy. We not only need to educate about the physical facts but we also need to focus on the mental support that needs to be in place for the fragile adolescent psyche. Our situation is not one that is solely due to music that kids choose to listen to, though they may not be wholly unaffected by it. This is a problem concerning general attitudes not only concerning sex but other aspects of life too. It is the apathy that almost every adolescent feels that needs to be remedied.

Tags:
Teen Pregnancy
Music
Media

So my only friend in the office, a mister Brady Kephart has suggested that we go to Iceland and Japan. This prompted me to go to flickr and look at pictures of tokyo. I have uncovered a rather interesting theme bar in Tokyo called the Absolut Ice Bar. There are also locations in Stockholm and London.

What I want to know is if they just give you those silver jackets and if so how much the cover charge is. I think to get a silver coat and a drink served in a block of ice is probably worth about $50. If anyone knows anything about this, like prices and such then get back to me. I really just want a cool silver coat…

UPDATE:
I found their official website and apparently if you go you have to book a 45 minute interval it is roughly about 35 dollars and they lend you out a cape and you get one drink for that price. Every drink after that is about 10 dollars. I still don’t know if you get to keep the silver cape (apparently it is not a coat), but Brady suggested that we just run out when we are done with our interval. I agree. I’m in it for the cape.

This is not the face to bring peace to the middle east people. All of that has been seriously depressing and i have formed a rather dangerous fatalistic way of thinking. It just seems to me that we don’t have much time left until a major conflict arises and that this time and invasion on US soil seems likely. Every sign that I can think of points there. Even if you are ignorant of all else the soaring gas prices should be a clue that our life style is soon ending. What is exciting about a time period like this is that I think from crisis and strife arises great art. I feel as if we are coming upon an age where we will have to rely on base instincts and methods to convey ideas to people may be reduced technologically. Perhaps this is just a personal desire that I have and maybe living in a desert that has rained for the past 3 weeks straight is effecting my perspective. I do not want to sound like someone on a street corner wearing dirt encrusted clothing and yelling at anyone with unfortunate enough ears that the end is near. I may not be too far away from that guy lately though.

Machine Description

Rain is seen from a distance.
It looks like a mantilla
Over stone rock and plant
Life, growing as weeds,
As in a rainforest of
Kapok trees, tall and
Majestic, from what their
Picture describes. perhaps
More like the parasitic
Epiphytes, only growing
From the ground.

Singularly the generator
Stands alone against the
Sky in a muddy purple
Silhouette, head tipped up,
Challenging whatever it
Is that supplies.

and this is where i get personal.

Ian-
I miss you and being able to have some one to confide in; the comfort of knowing that you would not judge and that you can understand me the way that most people cannot. I even broke down in front of Amy today while I was moving my car with her. I have decided to give camaraderie a second chance because I have been worn ragged by this office and the moment that you go away I receive news from my parents (both my mother and father) that my mother is probably leaving my father. Not the fake leaving, threats have been issued since I was a small child. That is probably where I received my pension for throwing things at people when I am angry (it pays off more then social security). It’s the real leaving, and I could tell by the strain in her voice that she is disgusted with him and his voice just sounds weary of it all. What bothers me the most is not the fact that I think they are in love and should have ever been together, but the fact that they both need eachother. They have depended on the support (though the support I speak of is often misplaced in yelling (dad) and passive aggressive behavior (my mother). This support system is almost essential to their survival as individuals. My father has blown all of his money like he does every 5 years or so on some shady business venture and this time it’s made them more poor then I think they can recover from. What makes this particularly difficult is that I think that I was pegged to be the one to pick them up and I didn’t meet their time line. I can’t pick them up and it kills me that I can’t. I am sure that most of this is in my own mind, but to be successful in the monetary sense is what they have always wanted for me. So after all this, if they do leave eachother and my sister picks whichever one to live with most easily, I am heartbroken. I know that it’s a little far into the future but I was going to try and take us both out for Christmas. I wanted you to see where I grew up, even if it’s only a segment of what it once was. I wanted to take you on a drive (a drive means going on dangerous back roads in the snow and smoking marijuana), and meet all of my ridiculous friends that you would love. I don’t know if any of that is possible now. My mother says she should know my September. I hope Texas is wonderful and give my regards to your father and mother.
Love
Natalie