what folly

to look for order in the dervishes of smoke

to listen for melodies amidst the clamor

to feel for warmth in the turgid waters

what folly

but so golden is that hope

that like a fool i sit

tracing away destinies in the sand

verovenaverim:

they grow in erratic clumps
my thoughts
shrubs like a pox
dotting the barren land from whence they spring
and i often regret
that the shears with which i try to prune them
are less than surgical

i really like this one

written by me. and i use “loosely” in the loosest possible way. i’m jellyfish, and my friends sally and helen are doorknob and wire, respectively.

a long time ago, near the largest door factory in the ocean, three peculiar creatures met each other. jellyfish, who was drifting by, met wire, who had recently quit her job as part of the door factory’s fence. doorknob suddenly popped out of the ground nearby; she was an illegal immigrant and had just finished digging her escape tunnel out of the factory. because of the amazing randomness of their meeting, the three became really good friends. 

all three went to a school called tinfoil pincushion high school, also known as TP. at TP, jellyfish, wire, and doorknob shared, most unfortunately, only one class: 6th period multivariable calculus. the mind of a common citizen had been known to explode upon contemplating this awesome beast of a course. its title was specifically designed to decieve people into thinking that it was the hardest class one could possibly ever take. it wasn’t. 

6th period multivariable calculus was taught by the great ybba nworb, worshipped worldwide as the supreme goddess of mathematica. despite her divine efforts to make the class interesting, ybba was unable to do anything. unbeknownst to her, someone had poisoned the air of her class room with industrial-grade blue whale tranquilizer, and students were immediately knocked flat upon entering the class room. poor jellyfish, wire and doorknob didn’t stand a chance. rarely were they able to make it to their seats awake; the three often fell asleep in the doorway and sleepwalked to their desks. 

nworb had unusual policies. homework was assigned to be due at the end of each unit. the great ybba frequently advised her students to keep up with homework; only a handful of them actually did. jellyfish, wire, and doorknob were not in this handful. 

one day, the three realized the final exam was nearing. they also realized the size of the crapload of homework they had to do. looking at the assignment sheet, they saw that they had to complete 396742.3 assignments. yet the most important realization they made that fateful day was that they were screwed. 

jellyfish, wire, and doorknob agreed to complete at least one of the assignments over the four day presidents’ day weekend together. 

at the study session, jellyfish, wire, and doorknob stared listlessly at their homework assignments. having not spent more than a total of 32 milliseconds awake in nworb’s class the entire year, they had absolutely no idea what to do. as time went by, the three students began to decompose from the sheer boringness of what they were doing. jellyfish became extremely sleepy; the blue whale tranquilizer had gone into his bloodstream, most unfortunately giving him narcolepsy. wire realized that jellyfish had gone to sleep and decided to get high, because that was obviously the most logical thing to do in such a situation. doorknob decided then and there that the only way that she was going to get U-Know was to be the smartest person in the universe, and therefore determined that stupid math homework was getting in her way. thus, the three discarded their homework and became the trio of the sleeping jellyfish, stoned wire, and intelligent doorknob.

however, their halcyon days were short-lived. the crapload of math homework sitting in front of them was not going to calmly put up with being discarded, and rose out of the textbook with a vengeance. literally. like tom riddle rising out of the pages of voldemort’s diary, a ghostly apparition rose from the calc textbook. it spoke with a eerie voice. 

“you shall not defy me. I am semaj trawets, the son of james stewart, the author of your calculus textbook. besides having dyslexia, my father had the worst possible job in the world. I shall exact upon you a lifetime’s worth of rage at having the most pathetic dad on career day!” 

sleepy jellyfish, stoned wire, and intelligent doorknob were terrified. and sad. mostly sad. they empathized with the plight of poor semaj. yet they were unable to console the distraught soul because at that exact minute, he drew out a shining sword shaped like an elongated S. the three realized in horror that this was the integral sword, made of steel that had tasted the blood of countless students, forged by evil math teachers during prep period over a fire fed by late homework. 

they were going to be killed if they didn’t move, and move fast. so wire and doorknob woke up jellyfish (he had been sleeping the whole time) and proceeded to tell him the story. but jellyfish mysteriously knew what had been going on the whole time (he usually did) and stopped them from wasting time. they began running at top speed away from semaj, as he galloped behind them screaming obscure formulas and brandishing the integral sword. 

they had only taken a few steps before jellyfish vanished. wire and doorknob were puzzled. where did he go? they decided to enlist the help of dora the explorer, an old illegal immigrant friend of doorknob’s. after searching for five minutes in the same place, loudly voicing “where did he go?” and random spanish phrases, wire spotted the tunnel that doorknob had dug to escape from the door factory. maybe jellyfish had fallen inside! 

she looked inside, and realized that doorknob had actually dug a pit, and poor jellyfish, being a little groggy, had fallen inside. he had also fallen asleep. wire and doorknob were stumped. how were they going to awaken jellyfish, and get him out? they weren’t able to ponder this question for long, though. a shrill, piercing scream scared the crap out of them and they forgot all about jellyfish. 

dora was standing near semaj, screaming her head off. looking closer, wire and doorknob saw that boots (dora’s monkey) was in the process of chewing off semaj’s arm. being the intelligent person that she is, doorknob realized that boots had mistaken semaj’s non-sword arm for a banana and was attacking it voraciously. dora, being a poor mexican, hadn’t fed boots in 3 years and he was secretly going mad. 

boots completely ate off semaj’s arm, but in the process sustained grievous wounds from the integral sword, which semaj had been slicing him with the whole time. poor boots fell down dead. the only good thing about semaj’s spontaneous amputation was the fact that his stump bled textbooks, which fell into doorknob’s hole-pit, smacking jellyfish on the head and waking him up. jellyfish climbed out of the hole-pit using these books and the three were about to resume fleeing from semaj when dora stopped them. 

she demanded that they pay her back for killing her monkey. doorknob intelligently pointed out that it was actually her fault, because she was the one that starved boots causing him to hallucinate that semaj’s arm was a banana. dora, enraged, pulled out a bean-and-cheese burrito and was about to brain doorknob before wire quickly silenced her. wire stuck one of her ultra-powerful joints between dora’s lips, promptly stoning her into a catatonic stupor. the three were able to escape safely, as semaj was still occupied trying to stem the steady flow of textbooks coursing from his stump.

[unfinished]

what do you do with a twitter?

when it first came out, my friend wrote an article on it for the school newspaper. accurate summary: “it’s like a facebook status. an entire site for a facebook status.”

right. so i guess it would be cool to know what celebrities are doing at odd times of their day, as obviously people like hugo weaving don’t really move through life as much as life moves around them. i honestly have no idea why i picked hugo weaving but whatever.

but i don’t really want to know if you, my sadly-normal-life-possessing friend, have just “taken a shit the size of china.” i guess that particular fact would be mildly interesting, but in general: nope.

the pages of the few of my friends that actually have twitters are utterly incomprehensible mishmashes of retweets and one-sided conversations with followers. everything except the first sentence of a conversation is meaningless to anyone that cannot read the whole thing. think about it. the ostensible goal of a twitter is to let other people be updated on your life; but all i’m getting is that your life is confusing as fuck.

also. the format of most tweets makes looking at them like reading code. which i think is an eyesore.

it’s almost like everyone wears a mask to hide the stains

and no matter how much they cry

the tears don’t wash anything away

if my soul is a piece of paper

then all life has taught me

is how to write around the wet bits

i can’t not think about you

it makes my mind and heart and soul and hands and toes and teeth and blood hurt.

and though all i really have been able to dream about is you

i’m not sure if i want to meet you

i’m not everything you think i am

and i don’t want to disappoint you

reality paints me with a cruel brush

one whose strokes i’ve been able to mute with this distance

the closer you get the starker the imperfections are

and i’m not sure if i want to be able to reach out and touch

the perfection i’ve only seen in my mind

because i’m afraid

i’ll never want to touch anything again.

thenavtronyx:

B.I.B.L.E.

Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth

Q. U. R. A. N.

Quiet, Uplifting Recitations Are Needed

T. O. R. A. H.

Though, Oftentimes, Reason Appears Heavy-handed

G. I. T. A.

Generally, It Transcends All

(via beyondcloudnine)

seriously, chill out.

the evidence apparently indicates that she should not have gotten off essentially scot-free. but we’re making that decision from a morally and literally inconsequential place. none of us have ever had to hold the life of another human being in their hands. regardless of what she may have done, casey anthony is still a person, and i don’t think it’s very prudent of anyone to hastily decree that she should have been imprisoned or killed or whatever.

“Many that live deserve death. Some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo? Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends.”

- Gandalf

i read something really interesting the other day.

the idea that a promiscuous male is applauded by society, whereas a similarly sexually active female is vehemently decried, is obviously viciously unfair to females.

but the concept of the “slut” is actually more socially and emotionally damaging to males than they would think.

men often complain that they have an exceedingly hard time finding girls to, bluntly, have sex with them. it’s kind of the reason the porn industry exists.

but the same males turn around and victimize the few daring women who do choose to have sex with men.

the reason girls don’t want to have sex with us is that the minute they do, society brands them as inferior.

so we really can’t blame anyone except ourselves that the amount of attainable ass in this world is woefully inadequate.

you know, 

over time, i’ve come to

understand that

as hard as i may try, i

really can’t

express myself properly

because i’ve been sitting here, and

even though i cant think of

anything to really say,

under the circumstances, i

thought i should—however

incapable i may be—

fill you in on an

unknown, or rather a well-known fact:

look at the initial letters, all the way down.