Oscar Berninger! Fix the ice cream machine,
ruiner of hope and dasher of dreams.
Dining hall lord on your dining hall throne,
I pine for my frosty desserts in a cone.

As An Amusement For Myself

Helena Helena Helena Troy
taunts the girls and tempts the boys
cross the sea in Troy's black ships
armies bleeding at your lips

bright-eyed beauty pyre-lit
false and pretty, can't commit
want a boyfriend think you will
how many people have you killed?
1...2... 3... 4..

Textbook History

The yellow highlighter trails neon butter
on gunmetal print.
The wind turns paper leaves.

A pink cardboard
rebound covers the rubel as fall
covers an unstable Earth.
Over the wide girth of Mr Thomas
writing, the war is on.

First piece of Palmer fanfiction. I want the IB to take over fanfiction.net. That's my goal. I'm not really this pretentious in my writing- I was parodying something. Kudos if you know what it is.

From Brunching Shuttlecocks..

(Refrigerator Magnets: Ratings.)
Poetry Sets: The perennial problem with these is that they don't have enough "plain" words like "an" and "the," so my poetry ends up sounding like Tonto attempting to seduce the Lone Ranger. "Moon shine through window. delicious breeze caress skin. surrender." In retaliation, I disassemble other people's poems and create the most banal sentences possible. My favorite so far: "I will join the hair club for men."

Palmeritis! I'm asking you all to flood www.fanfiction.net with Palmer fanfic, preferrably slash. I mean, maybe just poems or something. I know I wrote a poem with Palmer in it, and Jen says that people write poems about Palmer in Spanish.

It was a rather crappy day to start out with. In Chinese we had to finish up translating a poem about 911 into Chinese, and the sickening tackiness of it had me pissed off well into second period. The thing on the end saying "send this to at least 10 people! DON'T BREAK THE CHAIN!!!!!!!" did not help. I didn't have my math homework done, and it happened that, not having collected homework in the previous three weeks, Ms. Gesterling decided today would be a good day to do it. Now, if I had checked my planbook toroughly and realized that the homework was a worksheet and I didn't need the textbook to do it, I could've done it during the morning announcements, or even during the six minutes between classes, but no, I saw the textbook excercises in the planbook and somehow my eye skipped over the worksheet problems. Third period had me nervous over my TOK presentation, which we did not get to finish because at the beginnning of the period Ms. Sullivan had spent fifteen minutes grilling Herschel, who was in the previous group that hadn't finished yesterday. I was immensely satisfied to overhear Herschel bitching about it during archaeology later. Since Nick is going on a college visit tomorrow, we gave Anya Nick's part to finish, meaning that tomorrow we get to see Anya Kouklova wearing a pair of sock puppets alternating between a falsetto and a bass. Stayed after school for Archaeology, which involved the spilling of various soft drinks in room 215, and.. cataloguing. -_-. The cataloguing group before us left us with a generous gift of rusty nails. Ironically, Rob and Gordon and I had been cataloguing that very same bag last year and had meticulously avoided the nails, hoping the next group could do them, but with me getting the same bag two years in a row, I ended up staring at nails anyways. Andrew came over and tried to explain to my group of bewildered novices and myself the difference between rusty fencing wire, rusty electrical wire and rusty barbed wire, though all I got out of it was that barbed wire has barbs. As I was leaving my E.E. advisor sprung on me to tell me that I'm 1000 words under the lower limit, I need footnotes, a works cited, a title page, and an abstract by next Friday.

But the latter half of the day was much better. After archaeology I bumped into Silvia in the school's front lobby, and she said she could use a ride home, so my mom gave her a ride home, and she decided that since I was sitting in a car right in front of her apartment that I might as well stay for a few hours to study for the physics test. So I did, though honestly I think I could've studied more efficiently by myself. We did a lot of talking though, which was really great, and it was sort of amusing how my mom called Alex asking him for Silvia's phone number to call me, and Alex told Silvia on Aim. Silvia told me, and I called my mom, who was surprised that all of this could have ensued within a span of 30 seconds. Stayed on with Silvia's hyperspastic five year old sister, who was immensely amused by my TOK sock puppets and we had loads of fun removing and retaping the puppets' round paper eyeballs in different places on their faces, and making new eyes and clothes for them. This is the only use TOK has ever been to me. Later wadded up the socks into a giant ball with ponytail holders, and played Sockeyball with Silvia in her front yard, like volleyball but with socks. Silvia's sister was annoyed at us not playing with her, so I went back to playing Socky with Cindy while Silvia played real volleyball with her dad. Silvia got on the phone with Josh and I ended up playing chess with Cindy until her attention span died, and then won a game of Chinese checkers. I stayed for dinner, though I felt awkward about it, and sort of weird trying to talk in Mandarin, but it was nice anyways. It was rather a pleasant afternoon and evening, and I wish I could hang out with people more.

The sock puppets will need new eyeballs because the tape adhesive is going.

Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands...

I like this poem. Even though if you were existentialist you could write a commentary about the pointlessness of this man's life, but anyhow.... I wish I had more time to read stuff like this for fun.

I've taken the liberty of signing Nick up for an e-mail newsletter that sends him a Shakespearean sonnet every day.

Don't thank me.

Arwen, Warrior Babe. An epic war poem about the mighty Arwen Evenstar. Tremble ye mighty and despair.

Auguries of Innocence

William Blake

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.

I like to live in my little Klein bottle.


Imagine a cylinder, stretched up'l and out'l.


Push in the bottom to link with the throttle.


You need 4 dimensions to bring this about'l.


A home that's ingenious, clever, and crafty.


I find it delightful, but a little bit drafty.

Rob's house was cool. Sort of nostalgic thinking about our shitty science project. Oh, Nick, I still have my chem poem, apparently. Rob's cats are cool, which is strange because I thought I didn't like cats, but still felt strangely compelled to coo at them.

Check out this cool poem by Tat!

A Valentine's Day Medley:
She walks in beauty, like the night
Filled with stars and rocket ships;
All that's best of dark and bright
Glisten in her eyes and lips:
Good God.
She's all that and a bag of chips.
So I tells her:
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Oh baby, you're so much hotter:
You're kinder than the kindest buds in May,
Cooler than the hydrant's gushing water;
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
But at my back I always hear
Time's boxcar racer roaring near.
So do me, baby
Like you never done before
Oh, give it to me
Till I just can't take no more
Do me, baby
Like you never done before
I want you now,
I just can't wait no more.

Wow, I did exceptionally unwell on the physics retake. I mean, for a retake. And possibly for a test in general. Nick gave me a giant gelt piece. So now i have more in my meagre stash of Christmas goodies. Woo. If I ever get around to it I'm going to write a poem on black holes.

I bought me some new shoes. They're beautiful. Worship them, mortals. I am easily made happy by material goods. Ahhhh. Luxury.

Today has been the day of belated revelations. Apparently, Chinese and Japanese are really close. 'Cute' in Mandarin is 'ke ai'. In Japanese, it's 'kawaii'. The sad thing is that I've known these two seperate pieces of knowledge for a long time, I just never bothered connecting them until now. Translating from Chinese is a bitch. Here's a poem translated literally by me, for your viewing pleasure.

Grape fine wine night light cup
Before drink piypa horse up blow
Drunk (something) sand field please refrain laugh
Ancient come war how many return?

Now. What the hell is that? Please?? GothJesus, I hope Chinese to English translators get paid more than I do. I'm proud of my translating work on this poem, actually. I can make it rhyme. Here goes. Meter is too much to be hoped for.

Fine grape wine, night's glow in a glass.
Before I drink the sound of a lute on horseback wafts.
Drunk on the sandy battlefield, please don't laugh
Of the ancient pitched battles, how many men come back?

Better, I should hope. Blegh. Cantonese pisses me off. I'm like the only one at school who speaks that dialect and isn't an immigrant from Singapore, except for Chris Lee. I need to change my blog template- it makes my posts look way too long. I'd do it, if I knew how to move my comments too.

Second revelation of the day. Nick S is a Discordian. Hence, Discordo.blogspot.com. And multiple references to Eris. god, I'm so stupid.