What my agenda planner had scheduled for me to accomplish this weekend:


-Submit abstract for Power & Subversion Conference Call for Papers

-Complete my application for History and Philosophy of Science Masters Program

-Assist with volunteer set up/clean up for a Philosophy Colloqium

-Go home and complete reading for Early Modern Philosophy Class


-Complete assigned reading for Ethics class. Write up my commentary. Outline my Ethics Paper.


-Go grocery shopping for week.

-Complete Reading and Review all notes for Logic. And

-Kickball IFF

-I had completed all aforementioned goals.

Now,  for what I actually accomplished this weekend:


-Did submit abstract (thank goodness) and did honor volunteer commitment to clean/up and set up colloquium, like a good minion.

-Spent the rest of the night boozing, schmoozing, playing pool, trying (in vain) to hit the bulls-eye of a target (when I was having issue just holding my glass straight).


– I read some Hume. At some point. Then went to help celebrate my friend Edwin’s birthday =  bar hopping, dance off  w/ Edwin to see who could ‘drop it like it’s hot’ lowest, more boozing and schmoozing


-Took an awesome morning hike with Jeff O. and Tonya at the Greenway.

-Played kickball!

-Had a friend help me (finally!) fix my bike up, and then went out for lunch.

-Went over to Amanda’s to attempt to read Hume to the sounds of her and Gabrielle becoming rockstar DJ’s on the Wii. Made little to no appreciable progress on reading front–BUT had a pretty awesome time nonetheless.

-Came home, took a shower…and wrote my agenda schedule for next week–  y’know, just in case I finally wake up to find I can no longer recognize myself in the mirror. And need to fashion a starting point.

I wash brushing my teeth this morning and didn’t realize the plumbing pipe had broken right under the sink. There was a flood underneath my sink — and even though my feet had been partially submerged by the water– and even though the whole pipe had come loose so that water was not dripping out slowly, but instead heavily pressure spewing  all over the floor right underneath of me– I didn’t realize the huge mess that had been created until after I had finished brushing my teeth.

I tried to use the pools of water already soaking through the tiles (and making its way underneath the neighboring hallway carpeting) to go ahead and mop the tiles and side panels of the bathroom clean– this in itself has been a long overdue and entirely neglected obligation I had intended to take on for some time now–in fact, it had actually been weighing on my conscience how filthy I was allowing everything around me in this small room to have been (and have continued becoming) from the time I 1st moved in–how accepting and tolerant I can sometimes be about the presence and accumulation of growing filth, decay, and stagnation within my personal space that I let influence and impact my thoughts, fuel my insecurities, and constrain my well being and progress.

I thought about when Hassan let the phone keep ringing. I thought about when Hany let my arm keep straining. I thought about when my dad and those priests sat me down for a wholesome round of criticism and condemnation. I thought about when Shandra, Jodie, and Ruth closed the door behind them and took seats surrounding me in the conference room–why did I stay so long and why didn’t I see what was happening and when will I change these attributes of complacency in myself and what, exactly, is the lesson in this.


On a bus trip in Costa Rica: July 2011


binge bubbles
hic cup ping
rattling rhyme less ly
biding b-i-n-d-i-n-g
s  p  i  l  l  i  n   g
a     l     l
o      v       e       r
pardoning patenting
petitioning controversy
censoring d
and unabashedly
            barging on


Focus energy on emancipating consciousness, transcending social-historical location in time and space, and directing the self away from ego and towards something higher, of infinitely more significance, creating eternally-just beyond the horizon.


i like art too but sand art not marble sculpting i said
  so she scoffed so that art of permanent fading tides away
  you'd leave me with that under riding fear
of a future distinguished by overwhelming nostalgia
  for your version
  for your vision
  of our past
and so, she said
i don't i won't
  mess with miss
  with you, miss mess
  miss list less, life less
core pore re all be all be any thing but only in the pre sent sense



Angel Oak Tree: Kiawah Island, Winter Break 2011


Kiawah Island: Winter Break 2011

Doubt About


I don’t know what I want to feel (but I’ll try anything to feel). I don’t know what I want to see happen. I don’t know what should matter (or if that matters?). I’m not sure what is right. I know I tend (to pretend?) to care about the most mediocre bullshit. (Who knows why?) I know my imagination used to be enough of an escape; and that it seems like its not anymore. (I wish I knew why.) More and more, I find I can’t convince myself that others are worth convincing of my self in service to their selves. I’m (finally?) disillusioned by my (favorite?) storyline that I am a loan and not alone but (for all I know?) I am. I am trying to try to be able (to be stable?) ((to stay?)) to say that I tried. I am dimly aware that I wear holes in the present.


Truth lies to random fate to teach it virtue to teach it faith.