to have, and to hold ...

it's not that i have principles that i won't ever stray from ...
it's that i just care ...
i am willing to to put myself out there, to put my ass on the line when there is a threat to justice ... to what i perceive as justice ...
there is a phrase, a cliche ... i'm not big on cliches, but you know, building character ...
when one goes through a sacrificial act for what they perceive are the right reasons, maybe good reasons, maybe just reasons ... the person comes out the other side ... a bit different ...
to hold onto something when it hurts ...
to hold onto something when the holding on is causing pain ...
to hold onto something when the holding on is hurting others ...
to hold onto something when it kills your career ... wrecks your marriage ... flunks you out of school ...
to hold onto something because whenever that thing that was trying to get you to let go is gone, you still have a hold on something ... and then you can let it go ... but it will never leave you ... it stays with you forever ... and the different you, is you.

it's not too late ...

i don't have to think too hard to realize that i am not too far from saying: this law school shit is a waste of my time.

it's the way the way they make you want to try and think, which is to say, not think much at all ...

but i got my BU law school review journal in the mail the other day, and i read Aaron Garrett's paper and it made me re-think my precarious position as a law student ... there's something to do here that matches up with my intuitions about justice, philosophy, politics, love, etc. ... i think ... i'm hanging my hat on hopes ...

heretofore

rather the wind, rather the time
passing on the wings of my spirit

into the dreams of our innocent moments
we pull out our insides
to breathe into them
a nuanced reclamation

cover the child, cover the senses
rolling on the rocks of the bed

onto the thoughts of our incensed beginnings
together we drift
another quickened pace
a twilight opens and closes

words ...

i sent this to one of my professors. he talked about it in class. not many people seemed to think it was worth talking about ...

The first few weeks of law school are ethically and morally alarming. In a place where people are attempting to learn how to be the administrators of justice, there is a callousness to the concept of justice that is, quite frankly, offensive. Instead of an education in whether the law is right or wrong, or just or unjust, law school has encouraged us to get away with what we can on behalf of our client as long as the law allows for it. This kind of moral bankruptcy and questionable ethical practice disguised with the word “professionalism” is alarming because lawyers, with their privileged position of service within society should be at least minimally engaged with the questions: what is just and should I pursue this argument simply because the law allows for it and it will make myself and my client money? This is not meant as a kind of higher calling to justice, per se, but a promotion of the thought that striving to do what is just, while seemingly a longer and harder road than evaluating everything through a practicality lens, is actually more practical in the end. That is because justice solves problems, while doing what is allowable under the law for immediate benefit prolongs problems. This is alarming to me, because I thought that lawyers were supposed to be problem solvers, not obfuscators.

Left in One

patterns, cycles
of past into present
repeating itself
again, and again, and again, and again

reverse, circumvent
the promise of staying
inside yourself
once, just once, just once, just once

background noise

you are a product of me
a dream landscape
filled with memories and make-believe
and when we speak our words buttress each other

folding, collapsing, rolling
the motion freezes our thoughts
our eyes meet and narrow
a feeling stands between us, bridging the gap

i stand and realize
all the mistakes i've made count for something
they brought me here
and i belong to you

why should i be afraid of fear?

Help Help

Tell me what I wanna hear
This shits too good to be true
My dear

Tell me lies
Tell me lies, tell me
Tell me lies, tell me

Help me

Storybook keeps from hurting me
You see
Shell of the man from the sea

Tell me lies
Tell me lies, tell me
Tell me lies, tell me

Tell me why
Tell me why, tell me
Tell me why, tell me

Tell me lies...

Help me

Reservoir
Of hate and fear
Invisible
In repair
A hundred thieves
Cast a spell
This is hell

Help me

The man they call my enemy, I've seen his eyes
He looks just like me, a mirror

The more you read, we've been deceived
Everyday it becomes clearer...

Clearer.

Not my enemy.. no, not my enemy..
Don't speak for me. No, not my enemy.

- jeff ament, eddie vedder

tell me

i'll tell you how i feel all right
sundays, into mondays
surrounded

repercussions exist to qualify our emotions
to represent something in the night
introduced to something new
a heat wave of light inside of the fear

absolute, definite
not predetermined in the least
god weeps
for something better than this

heartbeats slowly to this
another lullaby in a heart of bliss
take it outside
for another go round

presence relaxes

i have to write, i have to
to bring out the inner truths
the soft spoken, tissue drenched substance
to feel, and to be, totally alone

bring about a change of heart
turn away from something else
to take heart in the moment

anytime we reckon, we study the lines
to reach out toward love
to cast away our deep ends
and approach a way in time

bring about a change of heart
turn away from something else
to take heart in the moment

i ask myself to listen
to the fragments of silence
to bring about a new thing
to produce just one more smile

and we bring about the new things
and a smile's just a mile

in the dawn that is approaching
we cast a glance that resonates ...

Summer Reading

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski ★★★★★

Still Life with Woodpecker by Tom Robbins ★★

For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway ★★★★

Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut ★★★

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce ★★★

Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs ★★★