Words #2: Verse

Seal the second door to swing,
We dance, we dance, the music sings,
All to come, fall and rise, the
Bells will ring, the dancers laugh.

A flock of birds, brown and loud,
Marks their scar across the clouds,
To find the farthest, warmest nest,
My body shakes with the wanning tides.

Roll the note, tortured vibrato,
It may be the last sound on Earth,
The Seventh Day of the Thousandth Year,
When the dancers all lost their step.

The Trickster cries beneath the roots,
All treachery ripened, green, to fruit,
Losing time in buckets, hours in tears,
He will Arise, have no fear.

Not at all brought to you by Mr. Cummings.

Psalm #1

He paused, mid-stride, to glance to the side,
Lift his eyebrows, a great task, and gawk,
A nobleman once said, "Well, fuck me sideways."

She leapt, wholehearted, and made contact,
Validating her existence, once and for all,
In the scope of this endless verse we repeat.

Resin and horsehair, refrain,
Refrain, wood and string, how
long can we sustain one note?

I wrote, dear friend, to my beloved,
To solidify the illusion, manic schizophrenic,
My mind my return address, postage prepaid.

We skip to the loo, abrupt urgency, to ante,
Lanterlu, lanterlu, lanterlu!
The beat's a bit too loose, too late, too lackluster . . .

Two-four and C-major, refrain,
Refrain, fortissimo and staccato, how
long until the bow breaks in twain?

        Tutankhamen the Kid rides again,
        While Nero fiddles away.

Water #2: Fishing

The fisherman looked up and grinned,
  "You think it's that simple? Good, sin?"
The gulls overhead cried, so forlorn,
  "Tide goes down, tide comes up?"
He flicked his wrist, cast, the birds cried.

Yellow sun, brick house, piano:
Where'd the light escape, gradients;
Venus, the broken lamp burnt out.

        —Black, black,
        Dark, dark—

  "Must be nice, everything black and white,"
The fisherman wore a bright yellow hat,
He sat in his steel canoe, the birds circled,
  "Must be nice, figuring out the universe,"
The grey waves collided against the rocks.

Picturesque scene, garden walk, sculpture:
Why'd the sounds all cease, buzzes;
Phoebe, the battery walkman died away.

        —Quiet, quiet,
        Silent, silent—

The fisherman coughed and sneezed,
A raindrop fell, the sky darkened, quieted,
He looked at me, still smiling, raised his hand,
The fish dangled from the hook, flapping,
  I thought about life, death, and bad poetry.

Words #1

And she has no eyes,
She has no hands, no mouth,
A vision of Greek mythology.

And he has no form,
He has no spine, no mouth,
A vision of Christian pathology.

"Tell it, c'mon, amen,"
the choir cries, the pastor cries,
"The Word is the worst tool
for mortal irresponsibility!"

Make it right, make it fly,
Faster than the twinkling of an eye,
The dawn'll come sooner than the end of the day,
It's just the way it goes, I know it's hard to believe.

The Lord giveth, and the lord taketh away,
as the Law of Conservation says.

CNUcon 2006 Report

       This past weekend entailed the execution of CNUcon 2006; you see, I helped put together and run this gaming slash anime convention, put on officially by the joint efforts of CNU Anime and CNU RolePlaying Guild (CRPG); my official position was "Head of Staff & Security." This means I was in charge of making sure people were where they needed to be and doing what they should be doing, and that everything went off without a hitch and was setup correctly, properly secured, and all that sort of thing—even for a small convention, this is a stressful task.
       My feet and legs haven't seen this much activity in a good, long time . . . I'm rather exhausted, and very happy it's all over and done, plus was successful. It's a tiny con, relatively, but we pride ourselves on being an intimate, friendly environment with something to keep everyone entertained the whole time. It's also a low-budget con, but the University actually approved a small grant for our clubs and we got nearly one thousand bucks to utilize; we spent probably most of it: our exact financial outcome will be ironed out this Friday in a post-Con meeting.
       We had guests including Steve Bennett and 2wc Online (formerly Team Draconia), two girls from the East Coast Ball Joint Doll Revolution, an judge officiated by Wizards of the Coast who ran a Magic tourney, and an actual participant in the anime industry. Not a tremendous list, but everyone who came seemed to enjoy themselves and be satisfied. I was very proud of our Gaming Room, because last year's gaming room was atrocious, as we made the mistake of entrusting its running to, essentially, a big group of douches from the university chapter of the Association for Computing Machinery (ACM).
       Last year, there were like three or four screens with games, two of which were dedicated to Halo 2, and there was just one tournament, a Halo 2 one. This year, there were nine screens hooked up with games ranging from Guitar Hero to Soul Caliber 2 to Halo 2 to I don't even know what else. Oh, nine telvisions and one projector, so ten systems up and running at all times, in total. We had three tournaments (Halo 2, Soul Caliber 3, and Super Smash Brothers: Melee). I actually spent a considerable amount of time in the Gaming Room, playing Guitar Hero, because, Sweet Christ, is that game some kind of unholy amount of fun.
       So, on top of my legs and feet being worn out, so were my hands. All of my appendages are pretty rough, right now.
       There were complications, granted. Our Dealers Room and Artist's Alley both fell through, because we had literally no dealers or artists show. We had three girls show up speciifcally for those two precise venues, too, and they were very dissapointed and angered, understandably . . . They got a refund, on Saturday, when they showed up with their mothers. Not really sure why they didn't just ask us for a refund Friday; my two running theories are that they either felt they needed the authority of a parent, or that it was actually their mothers who had the idea of demanding one—eh, we did advertise those venues, and we didn't pull through, we had no argument.
       The Mind's Eye Theater LARP sort of didn't happen until Saturday Night, but it wasn't due to lack of preparation, moreso a lack of interest. There was some earlier drama with the LARP, which is why it switched hands, and I'm rather certain there was a faction of people upset with us ousting the worthless fuck who was going to run his LARP. Too bad, that was maybe five lost registrants, and we still had nearly two hundred people show . . . Oh, and the ex-LARP Head showed up and registered, too.
       All in all, the end result was very pleasing, and it was a very successful, exhaustive endeavour. I'm not sure where I stand, yet, on doing it again, or how exactly to do it, but I can't say I regret having done it this year. Especially since there were a slew of cute girls running around the con—it's a shame I'm an utter failure at approaching women.
       Aside from some very personal drama with one particular friend, I have no complaints. Whee, enough of this wandering journal-like entry—