think about it...

"water that is too pure has no fish."

falling is good.

there was something i wanted to write about, but i just can't seem to pull the words together. perhaps i am too lazy to extract them from my head and physicalize them on this computer screen-- i enjoy writing with my hands a little more than typing. actually a lot more. there seems to be a stream of energy that is far more individual and captivating than typing perfect print and using the delete button. i guess there is more room for editing while typing. which, of course, is one of the reasons why it is so wonderful, especially being a journalist or something of the sort. however, i argue against this technology for the sole fact that it's not raw anymore. i like raw. raw is nice. it's refreshing, sometimes harsh and crude. but refreshing nonetheless. it's insightful and it helps. it helps the individual materialize and organize their thoughts and it allows the reader to evaluate the writer and themselves in a far less critical and judgmental fashion. however it is very true that our psyche inhibits us from writing "all-natural." while we mature we are so easily influenced by the people and things around us. they influence our choices, our judgements, our behavior, our tastes, our dislikes. we are like prisoners to the world around us and it is extraordinarily evident in our writing. so about this writing. i just want to write without editing or judging or evaluating or even thinking. i just want to write. words pile up on us day after day. we hear them, we feel them, we touch them, we breathe them, we think them, and we manifest them... some good, some bad, some tall, some short; some brown, some yellow, some pink, some blue; some fat; some smelly; some sweet and some sour. just all off. all gone. just to write exactly what's on my mind. like a child. i guess it's a process. something like stripping. or peeling. it's a question i like to ask myself, what's really on my mind. what am I thinking about. just write it i guess. the closest i get is when i just sit down naked. after a shower. with just some water or burdock tea and just write. at first i formulate the words. they slowly stain the off white paper in my journal. but after a half hour they start to fall. my brain gives a little i guess. like it's sleeping, but i'm still awake. sometimes the words fall out of my mouth and onto the paper before i finish my thought. there are tingles sometimes in my hands, maybe from being tired or maybe from some type of divine universal power holding my side. i like the feeling of this kind of writing, naked-tea-writing. introspective at times, contemplative at others. and for the most part complete gibberish. but it's part of that peeling. the stripping. it's good, sometimes dirty and uneven. other times sweet and quiet. sometimes they itch-- scratching, scratching my skin until they fall off. red and swollen, but at least they're off. other times they fall like dead leaves. dry. colorful and settling. the stripping is good. naked. burdock tea. it's good. it's a good start, a good new. i like writing. with an ink pen and paper.
falling is good.
naked is good.

summer love'n

Our yesterdays are but dreams,
Tomorrow is merely a vision,
But today lived well
makes every yesterday a dream of joy,
and each tomorrow a vision of promise.

om shanti.

bum- bum bum bum bum.

my dewy-eyed disney bride, what has tried
swapping your blood with formaldehyde?
monsters?
whiskey-plied voices cried fratricide!
jesus don't you know that you could've died
(you should've died)
with the monsters that talk, monsters that walk the earth

and she's got red lipstick and a bright pair of shoes
and she's got knee high socks, what to cover a bruise
she's got an old death kit she's been meaning to use
she's got blood in her eyes, in her eyes for you
she's got blood in her eyes for you

certain fads, stripes and plaids, singles ads
they run you hot and cold like a rheostat, i mean a thermostat
so you bite on a towel
hope it won't hurt too bad

my dewy-eyed disney bride, what has tried
swapping your blood with formaldehyde?
what monsters that talk, monsters that walk the earth

and she says i like long walks and sci-fi movies
if you're six foot tall and east coast bred
some lonely night we can get together
and i'm gonna tie your wrists with leather
and drill a tiny hole into your head.

Thank you Andrew Bird.

words... it needs work.

there is this sensation, a sensation described solely by physical and mental experience. it's a movement that originates from the earth and moves through your hands and mouth and into the hands and mouths of others. they can penetrate our skin like thin needles or they can heat our bones like warm milk. they move water through our eyes and make us laugh and cry; they move our spirit and tickle our kidneys; they warm our hearts when we are loved and they tremble our hearts when we are lost.

they obey the laws of arithmatic, adding subtracting letters and characters to create sensations. sensations of sound, of sight, of smell, of touch, of voice, and of taste. they are words. 

words are sensations. there are millions of them, many of which share commonalities to create simple and complex languages. they define our culture and create organization and structure. they fall out of our mouths and onto paper or the hearts of those around us. they jostle your bones and layer themselves on paper to create sentences, chapters, and stories, they can be words of meaning, words of love, and words of hate, words of description, and words of analysis, words of debate, ancient words, and make-believe words. words that are long and words that are short. words are sensations, they move us and stimulate us, they haunt us and they inspire us.

songs are words. they are words that move by themselves. they float in the sky and reverberate through our minds. they dance and hop in the air and enter and leave our dreams. songs are like rivers of words that flow and move and glisten with the sun, they conjure sensations of joy, hate, sorrow, love, and dissapointment. these moving words speak to us in the air and through our ears and manipulate generations. they can move through us shaking our bones, or they can warm our hearts and nestle our souls. often times we lose ourselves in moving words, we lose our thoughts; our pains, our sorrows, and our struggles. other times we breathe moving words and we engross ourselves in the very words through which we breathe. songs are words. they are words that move by themselves. they float in the sky and reverberate through our minds.

pictures are words. they are words with details and forms. words with detailed definitions. sometimes they are animated forms with colors and layers and textures and emotions. they are layered words. they layer on top of each other, stacking themselves to create textures, colors, shades, and shapes. they can be simple or complex, stacking to create layers and layers. These layers of words make up forms. animal forms, human forms, plant forms, all different forms. they can be one dimensional forms, two dimensional forms, or three dimensional forms. pictures are words, they are words with details and forms. words with detailed definitions.

moving and dancing are words. they are specific words that fit together like puzzle pieces and create beautiful moving pictures. steps, phrases, and techniques are all words. they can be beautiful long words or short and abrupt words. they are words that move us and our bodies, they are words that move through our feet and out our hands and our mouths. they are silent words that you can't hear, but you can see. they are words that manifest themselves through the body as shapes, and colors, and sounds. moving and dancing are words.  they are specific words that fit together like puzzle pieces to create beautiful moving pictures.

what a privelage it is to know words, to experience words, to feel words, to speak words, to see words, and to breathe words. we are blessed  with words, to know and understand words. to be able to write words and speak words. let the words you speak be who you are, and let who you are be the words you speak. let this be truth. words are sensations.  they move us and stimulate us, they haunt us and they inspire us. 

playing.

omg, school is over!! it's funny to think that i am entirely done with my prerequites for med-school. i'm done with all of the basics, boo physics and inorganic chemistry. now for two more years of microbiology, cell biology, genetics, physio and anatomy. it's going to be heaven on earth. better yet, a nutrition class would almost be sinful.

i just had too. i had to go downtown. i love it downtown. i'm obsessed with the west village. the experience is euphoric. it's a surreal time warp for the self-stress induced upper east sider -- aged cobblestone streets cry to be danced and ran on, old buildings sing tunes of prohibition, sexual freedom, and the American dream, and the souls of those who’ve lived there creep up and draw green portraits against brick and iron backdrops. the buildings reflect the thoughts and ideas of gothic and european architects. most remind me of my grandparents -- deep wrinkles, cripple bones, heavy accents, broken English, funny sunspots, and an overall amnesia as to why the narrow streets attempt to run parallel to the hudson. an 18th century universe- "little bohemia" roots itself before the Comissioner's Plan of 1811, which is responsible for the creation and execution of the infamous grid lines, which now consummate the streets of manhattan. there are plenty of schools down there, as well. Farther east is the Bobst Library, NYU’s center for academic exploration and nerdy study groups. the streets are lined with cars and yellow taxis often struggle weaving themselves in and out of the tiny west village town streets. McNulty’s, perhaps the oldest coffee shop in manhattan, is situated right on Christopher street. The smell and taste of ground coffee is so dense you can almost see it, and the atmosphere is more than perfect for an intimate date—a perfect date actually. At least perfect on paper— pretty eyes, intelligent, self-disciplined, funny, slightly nerdy, gregarious, six pack abs, nice arms, and a total romantic. Dark hair, sunkissed skin, soft hair, and a sexy persona… what more could you ask for? Smart, sexy, great taste—a west village date, with robust espresso, delicate food, and two young souls making sense of the world around them—perfect right? Or potentially perfect?

There was something missing—I don’t know what, I don’t remember what it was—but there was something missing. Perhaps chemistry? or sparks? Or maybe fireworks? Or maybe butterflies in the tummy? Or that shiver in your kidneys? It, whatever "IT" is, just wasn’t there… sure there were moments, excitement, lust, and laughter… but nothing manifested. It didn’t work—maybe we didn’t fit? It was a failed reaction....too much base, not enough acid…

… "IT" will come again. soon enough. right now, New York is "IT." the West Village is perfect. New York is perfect. I love not having school. i am raping New York for all its worth. central park, washington square park, shows on broadway, comedy shows in the east village, cute restaurants, historical monuments, amazing museums, international food, superior academia, dumpy clubs, amazing pilates & yoga classes, and human contact-- touch and movement. New York is an amazing city-- it's the perfect city to grow and play in. george oshawa's motto was that living a life without playing, was a life not worth living at all. he coined the term makrobios, consequently being interpreted in the West as macrobiotics. there is so much more to macrobiotics than what we eat, and that's why i love it so much. i'm blessed to be able to eat brown rice and play in new york...

i love playing.

i love my life :-)

come down now.

the sugary smell of spring time...

we looked like giants, in the back of my grey subcompact. fumbling to make contact...

dove chocolates are my new religion. my new philosophy. like hakuna matata. 

i like the freckles in your eyes. 

i have a crush on simba. shhhhhhhh. don't tell ;-)

it was familiar to me, the smoke to thick to breathe. 

the tiled floors glistened i slowly stirred my drink.

and when you started to sing you spoke with broken speech 

that i could not understand and then you grabbed me tightly.

i won't let go. i won't let go. even if you say so oh no. i've tried. and tried with no results. 

your eyelashes tinkled my neck with every nervous blink. 

and it was perfect.... until the telephone started ringing ringing ringing off ringing ringing ringing off.

and in that moment. that moment when you feel your stomach churn and your breathe tense. your lungs contract. you short your breathe. your face, it flushes and your hands, they sweat. that moment. that infinitesimal and insignificant instance in the history of the universe. your life it stops. it's rooted deep in your body. it moves from the ground up like static electricity breaking the ground we live on. it's a second of excitement. a second of insecurity. a second of hesitancy and a second of innocent tension. the tissue in your brain fails to work. and you lose all ability to speak. that second. that one second. that one moment through which your life is taking you to free yourself from all inhibitions...

i'm waiting for that second.

red.

lets think about this logically. no. that's it. just no. what if you have to cut people out? do it? maybe? i don't know. i love my family. i have no respect for people who hide, run, or pretend. i can't do the same. i'm marrying a man... that makes me smile. but this doesn't. i like when it snows. the snow and the rain over manhattan is so cleansing. it's amazing. it's fresh, it's new. but i'm home. i'm in jersey where you can see all the stars, orion's belt and the lunar eclipse. that's right. i came home in perfect time, not only to celebrate Isis's birthday, but to see the lunar eclipse. it was red. ahh the color red. i love it. it's amazing. i like red. i like red things, but not too many. red walls are fun, but too much for me. i like red. passion. lust. sex. hmmm. i want it. it will happen. why rush things? there is no point. yea, i miss it. but i can wait. waiting is good. patience is good. self control is good. i like good. good sucks sometimes. but it's good. i want to live a good life. hell i live a great life. i have so much. my cat is on my lap. she loves me a lot and she is purring. i'm not even tired. but my tummy is full and i had an egg today. i made it with maple syrup and a little nori, of course. otherwise i'd go crazy. well, not really. only if it were an everyday thing. ahh balance. balance is good. maybe i need it right now. not balance. sex. oh cecilia i'm begging you please to come home. what? okay well america is in debt guys, hello?? we have no money. i love new york. penny is purring. i miss her while i'm at school. olive is great. but crazy. penny calms me down. ooh the nickel. Five cents. hmmm... i like them when they are clean and shiny. shiny is nice. just like the engagement ring i want to get for my future husband. i like pretty dudes. so red. hmmm... passion. intensity. blood. pain. love. sex. so about that time. i got sick and came home. i needed it. i came home. i needed to see the lunar eclipse and to stand outside in the snow. i needed it. i danced in the snow and sang songs in my head and tasted crystallized water in my mouth. oh the lunar eclipse. it was red. it's time for something new. it's the end of the winter. the beginning of the spring. time for rebirth. just like the phoenix. oh remember red? fire. forgot to mention that one. i have a lot of water. lots of it, i'm an emotional well. a well of water. that's probably why i like fire so much. opposites attract. balance perhaps? okay, i keep talking. but remember i want new. so new it is. white again? it's clean again. brown rice again. and root vegetable soup again. i need a week at the kushi institute. talk to michio. what you do in life matters. i just heard that on a commercial, so i typed it. whoa. right now there are a lot of things hitting me. my cats tail. the light from my computer. the light from the tv. my mom's brain waves. my cat's brainwaves. and electronic waves from the tv and my computer. lets get back on track. something new zachary. something new! no, i lied. not something new. yes, a new start. that's it a start button. i exhausted myself. i love working though! i worked way too much. RENT is in the back of my head. ahhh... even worse, it's in RED. i like red though. it's sexy. i like sexy. i need more sexy in my life. maybe that's what should be new. new and sexy. a new and sexy spring. a new and sexy lab coat. a new and sexy organic chemistry book. because that is what i should be reading right now. so lets start something new. i am going to read a new chapter in organic chemistry.

the gas law

so it's march. it's almost the spring time. i don't like capitolizing my i's because i like the dot. i know it's grammatically incorrect, and i don't write like that. i just like the way it looks on the computer screen. dots. i am noticing phases. i don't like phases or cycles. i mean i guess they are important, but i hate complacency. i think i need some cycles in my life. i guess i have them. not cycles, patterns. i need patterns. i like patterns. i like breaking patterns. no i don't. haha. i can't stay up past midnight. besides that.. i don't know what i am talking about. i have been feeling a lot of pressure. PV=nRT. pressure and volume are directly proportionate and the more i fill my capacity, the more pressure i build. i went home. but it didn't help. ahh. i'm cutting people out. i have too. there's just no room. i don't have the patience anymore. i miss my cousin. i miss hanging out with her all the time. i want best friends. not seasonal friends. it's my fault. i keep everyone at a distance. i know that, but it's hard. talk about trust issues. hmmm. i like rice. i just want rice in my life all the time. brown rice and lots of perfectly cooked vegetables. and i like dirt. i want central park dirt and grass and i want to feel it between my toes. yum. and to dance. i am dancing. i like dancing. i've always liked dancing. i want to dance and feel the grass between my feet. i am ready for the spring. the spring solstice. ahh. vetta. and bugs. i don't like itchy bugs. but i like pretty insects and butterflies. and worms.

crystalline dihydrogen monoxide.

i heart frozen crystalline stars falling from the blanketed cosmos.

if all the snowflakes were rice cakes and fun cakes,
oh what a day it would be!
Standing outside with my mouth open wide,
ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah ah!

move.

PILOBOLUS. move.

fungi.

the ocean and the moon.

move.

moving.

i'm walking. walking fast. so breathe. now i'm breathing and moving.

and breathing. walking. and singing. now breath. exhale, pull your belly in and up. it's moving. i'm moving. from inside out. and move. roots are growing through my toes. they are breaking my skin and cooling my body, my stomach is soft my spleen strong and a tree is growing through my heart it ripped it but its growing and beating and the tree is not only in my heart but in my feet and in my head my mind is full of branches with leaves green leaves and yellow leaves and orange leaves. and blue leaves and purple leaves. there are buds on my ears where my kidneys reside and my liver is making wood. my stomache is soft but on fire and my lungs are feeding the air my mind is being emptied. it's at war with itself. but stop. thoughts are wasting. stop wasting time grow up and over the debris take from it what you can and grow taller and break through your skull. break through it and reach towards the heaven. be humble and strong. stand sturdy but move with the wind. burn with the fire and be nourished by the water. discharge the toxic, sweat it out from your skin. suck it out from your veins. be in love with what is and what is to come discharge the past and love what is now. grow what was grow what is and grow what is to come for growing is loving and loving is growing. and breathing is accepting and accepting is breathing. so chew and love and touch and eat. keep growing and moving and eating, break your bones and break your skin grow out through your crown and love what is to come.