the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors

were you run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality?
were you suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China?
my only question, then, is what happened to the angel-headed hipsters lost in the machinery of night?

but this only leads to an overwhelming question (oh do not ask what is it): what of poetry?

the best minds of generations past are lost to most of our generation. why? what is it about words in verse that turn most of us off to enjoying and contemplating some of the most sophisticated ideas of the 20th century? we all know einstein, bernstein, and potok; however, few of us know ginsberg, eliot, or auden (myself included). these poets influence most of modern consciousness, but we place no credit at their feet.

i probably won't start reading modern poetry in an effort to understand the fabric of our modern society. but, it seems like those of us who understand parts of modern life should at least understand the part these poets play in providing literary background to all we do (movies, media, relationships, and understanding).

so, if you don't start reading modern poetry, at least start understanding the parts these poets play in modern life.

(if you took this post seriously then call me)

what are we cheering for (for what are we cheering)?

my little sister the cheerleader. my little sister the violinist. my little sister who has a refreshing sense of humor and bad taste in boys. my little sister, hannah. if i were to think of one compound word to describe hannah, it would be poopface. and if that's not a compound word, it is now.

i went home to utah and i saw her dance and jump and yell and cheer, and now i want you to see the same thing. please feast your eyes on these pictures.





in addition to witnessing hannah cheer her little poopface out, i also saw the twins. the twins are cute. they are small. here are some pictures. i do realize that some of you don't know the twins. as such, this web log entry most likely does not interest you. if that is the case then i suggest you do something else.

here is the picture of the little ones.

midstride

this is art. this is art. and this is art.

why, then, can this not be art? or this? or this? or, for what it's worth, bears! or robots...

boston, snow, and bombs

so here are a bunch of pictures that i don't want to explain. some of them are of libby. some of them are of us in boston. some of them are of the big snow storm. ryan (my jerk roomate) and i dug the car out of the snow tonite. while we are enjoying our snow day in nyc, peter is in puerto rico with marc's girly. what will happen?

some things to look for this coming week: 24, peter's return, my last week of school before the break, 52 degrees on thursday, the twins' good health, and the word 'modernity' (marc, you owe me $5).

peace, ya'll

pictures of pauls little ones

once again paul and amy: congratulations.

amy had babies

last night amy had two babies. they are healthy. amy is too. their names are abby and becca. they weighed a lot. something like 6lb 14oz and 7lb. don't quote me on the weights. pictures are forthcoming (is forthcoming the correct word? is it even a word?). congratulations are in order for both paul and amy. way to go.

whats in a web log

i can't find any satisfaction in my web log as of late. its not like others' that i know. i can't seem to locate that which formerly brought me so much online happiness and satisfaction. maybe i need to find a more escapist means of entertaining myself. or perhaps give in to the mainstream. but its just not like it used to be.