Where did you get $240?

When I was in high school my closest friends and I would, without regard for propriety, let loose our strange sense of humor on the plebeians, often when we knew people were watching. We derived a weird pleasure from seeing confused faces and stares of disbelief in response to our brand of comedy. We can't take all the credit though, we often drew our inspiration from a short lived comedy show on MTV called 'The State'. Here is my favorite sketch ever. Peter, this is for you...ahhhhh yeeeah.

Walking Across the Atlantic

"Walking Across the Atlantic":


I wait for the holiday crowd to clear the beach
before stepping onto the first wave.

Soon I am walking across the Atlantic
thinking about Spain,
checking for whales, waterspouts.
I feel the water holding up my shifting weight.
Tonight I will sleep on its rocking surface.

But for now I try to imagine what
this must look like to the fish below,
the bottoms of my feet appearing, disappearing.


Magical, beautiful, everything good. I'm hooked. I came across a poem titled "The Dead" by Billy Collins (Former poet laureate of the United States) on a friend's blog and now I can't get enough. He came to BYU to do a reading and I had class at the time so I didn't go. I should have learned by now that one will often learn more while playing hooky than they will warming a seat in class. I put the above book on my amazon.com wish list, the title alone is justification enough to buy what appears to be a wonderful collection of poems:

"Walking Across the Atlantic" and many others by Collins, remind me of the wanderlust I felt as a boy and the many afternoons I left off, pursuing vagaries and watching the shifting light as it danced through the trees to warm my youthful cheeks.

If you want to see a visual interpretation of this poem, go here. Enjoy these poems and the many gifts Billy Collins wants to share with you

Automatic Doors

If you think this is funny visit http://xkcd.com/ but proceed with caution.

Working for Google

http://xkcd.com/

Cansados...

Quisiera verlo todo con mis propios ojos

Me canso de la vista enmarcada

Presta un aire liviano y falso a todo que pretendo ver

y no sé distinguir entre verdad y percepción

La primera cara de la mañana, la que creo amar

es borrosa y sin forma

Quisiera verla pura, sin ningún vidrio separándonos

Hace años que no veo las estrellas

y su imagen ha vuelto simulacro incontables veces

Siempre a través de las ventanas virtuales



El otro día me habló y no la podía ver ni escuchar

La vista, el oído y junto con ellos la memoria

se aproximan al olvido y el paso del tiempo

Muy pronto se acaba todo y me quedaré solo en un mundo gris

un mundo ausente del decimoquinto sinfonía de Shostakovich,

ausente de Hal y Falstaff,

ausente de su cara borrosa

Aún así, vale más que estos ojos ya cansados de ver

El Chérrida

Revisiting the Cave of Montesinos

"It is a long time, most valorous knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha, that we, who are shut up and enchanted in these solitudes, have hoped to see you, that the world by you may be informed what this deep cave, commonly called the cave of Montesinos, encloses and conceals; an exploit reserved for your invincible heart and stupendous courage. Come along with me, illustrious sir, that I may show you the wonders contained in this transparent castle, of which I am a wanderer and perpetual guard; for I am Montesinos himself, from whom this cave derives its name."
-Cervantes, Don Quixote Part II, Chap. 23

And so I begin again, entrusting my thoughts and wanderings to whoever may read them. By nature this is a narcissistic exercise, also histrionic and postmodern since it in many ways will mix the high and the low, exists only virtually, and will be not only a simulacrum of my self, but a compendium of simulacra, feigning representation. Enjoy.