You are looking at posts that were written in the month of December in the year 2007.
three quarters of an hour away
but further than the edge of space
farewell to someone else’s future
to a time they never saw
I don’t see your horizon
your line in the sand
a tickmark on a never-ending reel
an arbitrary screed on a player piano
rolled up by some long-dead pope
behold the empire of my resolve
stronger than a seven-nation army
I see seven hills
I see seven days
each one a new year
oh oh seven
Posted on December 28th, 2007 by george.
The one where the buses double as subway cars
And can drive out of the tunnel at the end of the line
I dreamt a woman had a snake on the bus
A Columbian python in the front row behind the driver
I couldn’t figure out why everyone was so quiet
Or why there was a gun on the floor in the aisle
Turns out the snake had made a mess on the floor
And a man in back flipped out and pulled his piece
The bus driver stood firm, and while driving
Talked the man down, reduced him to tears
He laid the gun on the floor, and after a while
The passengers picked it up and passed it to the driver
She tucked it away as she pulled out of the tunnel
Emerging into the sunlight from underneath the river
And dropped me off at my stop: a university
In lower Manhattan. Maybe even Roosevelt Island.
I walked onto campus but the familiar was strange
My dorm was boarded up but the door was still open
I went inside and everything was in my room, as I had left it
Sheets still on the beds, books on the shelves
Only all the doors were open, and I couldn’t find a key
Confusion settled in and I started to fret about my classes
Was I registered appropriately? Where were my friends?
Why was I the only person in my building?
I went to the window and looked out on the quad
Three stories up, at the ground that started on the first level
And sloped upward and away from the foot of the building
Eventually coming up to eye level with my window
But just far enough away where a jump would be hairy
There were people stretched out on the grass, laughing
And I said a silent prayer of thanks
Because I realized, even amidst my inner turmoil
How much I love the City of the Covenant.
Thursday, March 13th, 7pm at the House of Blues.
I will give you a ride and a place to say, all you need is transportation to Florida.
And I guarantee we will ROCK OUT.
I can’t believe you’re ten years old. My how you’ve changed things!
In other news, the future of the electric car is starting to look very promising!
What, you want more good news? Okay!
How about I up the ante with some great writing?
Something for your adrenal glands.
Something to get your mouth watering for the winter. (Watch the videos)
What about real, breathtaking HD video of orbiting our Moon? (Thanks Kevin!)
Speaking of breathtaking.
For the curious, an expert explication of the forces behind the headlines.
There. That should tide you over while I’m at SED.
twenty miles away
the glowing orb
squashed into an overripe orange
and dipped behind a string of clouds
a mile away
a solitary bird took flight
and winged its way between the rays
that flew so straight and true
from the blazing inferno of its Source
to the overflowing cup of my eye
then crossed the path again
with I the only one to see it
in a flash
I saw the sun of the Egyptians
and the Greeks
I saw with the eyes of every warrior
and philosopher that has been or will be
and the dawn of realization
left me with a seed of contentment
this is it
and this is worth it
in the balance of all the good and evil humanity has wrought
I am content
for it has brought us to this moment
were civilization to find its end
in this dark night
it would be enough
now as the light fades
and night crawls up with its dark blanket
even as the image is burned into my mind
I breathe deeply
and give thanks