One more week down, who knows how many left to go.

Last week held three tests and so I was only able to scavenge a few interesting occurrences to tell you about. One in particular was my meeting a young chechen. I had never met a chechen before and took it upon myself to remember all facets of the expereince. Her appearance was a mix of arabic influence and Eastern European features. She was quiet, with a sincere appreciation of the kind of small talk one makes with strangers. She grew up in Jordan in a Chechen community there. This tension that occurred, with growing up in Jordan but being raised as a Chechen was extremely interesting to me. I guess, though I am German and Dutch, I consider myself foremost American and do not long for ancestral countries that I barely know. Hazdo( my spelling is probably horrible) means interesting in Chechen.

I just recently finished a short story, for a friend of mine, that detailed a recurring dream of being in love with a deaf woman (he's a musician). He very much enjoyed the story and I was glad for it. My current attempt at a long story/ novel has been coming along lately. I have based some of the images on photos taken by Allison Zarrow in Abandoned Tulsa. Her photos of an abandoned school building is the setting for one of the main character's most poignant interactions.

This last weekend was amazingly exciting. The boys and I decided to drive out to Denton. A charity event led us through a glass door into a game of underground dodge-ball. It was awesome. It was a half hour filled with sun tzu and balls flying quickly by the face. Afterwards I leaped into the back of a persons truck bed and enjoyed some 7-eleven delicacies with my new found friends. I wish all my life were so beautifully random. The next morning I met with my mentor at Cafe Brazil for breakfast. He convicted me as he always does and I was glad for the constructive criticism. Life is often critical yet rarely constructive. I spent the rest of the day reconnecting with an old friend and connecting with a new one.

This week was filled with smiles and laughs. Everyone was happy that testing week was over. I rode the honors college golf cart in the homecoming parade and threw candy at people. I also was able to take pictures of Ransom Hall before it was completely renovated. Abandoned Tulsa, though lacking in a few ways has really opened my eyes to the concept of industrial decay. To the idea of the rotting of something previously considered permanent and immovable.

Amidst all of this chaos I have come out with a piece that peaked my interest:

You stared into my eyes

and

smiled

And then

Looked away.

I looked at you

and

smiled

And then

Looked away.

I looked out the window

At the

Street.

It was all

Silvery glass.

You looked at

the

uncovered wall and

your breath

in the wind.

The brick

And the

White shadows.

You lit your cigarette and

I breathed in

The smoke.

An orange light on

And

Off.

Then you got up

And

Left.

I sat there

Smoking your

Cigarette.

As the time

passed me

by.

Another

Day in

Paradise.

How the Day sounds- Greg Laswell

Time continues to fly by at a psychedelic speed of light. Colors abound and set my mind to writing. To absorb the lights and sound before the eye's focus begins righting.

It has been a severely interesting week. The Vegan Club had their first official bake sale! I helped make lemon cupcakes. The bake sale took place in one of the college's prominent buildings, driven inward by the snow, and was characterized by hard sales of heart shaped chocolates, small yet tasty cupcakes and chocolate truffles. We sold out and the event ended with an aire of general feelings of accomplishment and random exultations of dance.

Thursday night I slept on the floor of a rehearsal studio curled up under a black winter-coat with a buffalo exchange hoodie as a pillow. I was in the company of supremely exceptional persons of class. People that smile much and frown little and watch as life worries itself. It was a night of creative offerings to the muse and, though it hampered the preceding day with sleepiness and confused thoughts, was well worth it.

Wolf Man was an interesting movie. The plot was superbly twisted and confusing; no doubt expounding upon ones feelings if one were to become a werewolf. If not for this reason alone it is on the recommends list. The performance of Anthony Hopkins was superior and Benicio Del Toro did not peak his career but gave a tasteful ode to the beast.

Among other miscellaneous events of the week: I made french toast, mush, and lemon cupcakes this week. I released a friends car from the snow with the help of a few blessed men. I got in contact with an old friend and a close yet distant mentor. I fed a person beautifully sad metaphors about life, love and philosophy and they gave me a 4-star rating (critics our easier to please when you smile alot). I also sent out the first Psych Society meeting email of the semester. I made a new friend over facebook. Last and definitely not least, I danced out all of my heart and let my friends, family and righteous passerby's put it back together.

Amidst all of this pandemonium, I have a piece to share with you:

It was as though a squirrel had burrowed a hole in my heart and set its stuffs in it. And the stuffs added to the general flavor of life. And the general flavor of life transcended the loads of grief upon my heart.

A heating pad shaken passionately and then set under the dermis, warming the edges of the mind first then moving inward. Forever inward, never ceasing, only smiling benevolently up to me.

Someone opened up the clouds and let the sun bleed through. Drops of the Goddesses nectar, dripping upon my lips and tingling sweetly in the ventromedial hypothalamic nucleus of my mind.

A person, quiet and still, smiled at me with a smirk undefined. Not clear nor altogether whole, yet leaving a sense of peace in its wake. A small sailboat upon a calm sea, patiently driving its way into eternity.

The page tan and young yet aged by the better qualities of the furies. The best letter I had ever received; in its tact and simplicity. A picture of a little girl smirking and blushing and letting the whole world seep in.

Johnny

Johnny took a ride on

the midnight train.

Johnny pulled the trigger

life was never humane.

On the Road Again

Times have become hectic again. My courseload is waying on my back and there just aren't enough hours in the day. There's just so much to do in life. To really suck the sap of it. This weekend involved alot of those intense moments, the ones you know that you'll remember. First, on Friday night after band practice, I drove out with some friends to Winstar. My initial impression was one of almost disgust, but when you start winning money, or being tricked into believing you're winning money, it becomes quite fun. The lights, the slots and speed of the blackjack tables were just breathtaking. I only wish I had more money to gamble with, or that I made more money gambling. But I didn't loose that much, so overall the experience was a blast.



I didn't get home from the casino till very late. I slept for a few hours then got up, hopped into the car and drove to Austin with a few friends. The drives down and back were the best parts. On the way back we stopped at the famous Czech bakery. Even though the bakery wasn't really Czech (I myself believe that only one of the workers looked Czech) the pastries were amazing. The berry kolache is worth the drive. It was soft, with warm Cinnamon and brown sugar daintily set along its edges and the center was sweet but not too sweet. You tasted more berry than sugar, which seemed to me a mark of mastery.



While in Austin we mainly hung out with some local friends and explored town. Dinner was a fairly good Mexican restaurant with a very nice, down-to-earth waitress. It was decorated with large musical notes painted in glass shards along the wall, as you looked to the right the notes slowly turned into balls of fire. It was like a Tex-mex version of Top gun. After that we went to a local social event, but the people there weren't terribly impressive. They seemed to be making up for things. Their eyes were always searching for more, no matter how interesting the person standing in front of them was. This, along with the Casino, were very valuable case studies of human behavior. The people at the event and the casino both seemed tortured. They looked as though always searching for something to relieve the pain.



After the events out on the town we went back the local college where we were staying. I slept on the floor and while that seems so crude I have always enjoyed sleeping on the floor. I believe it to be a truly natural and righteous endeavour. On par with walking long distances or reading extremely drawn out Russia literature. Then we woke up the next morning and explored Austin for a bit. We visited a local Austin toy store and I was amazed at how many things I seriously considered buying. Between a french toast stamper with an Eiffel tower on the front, a mug with a yellow submarine on it in psychedelic colors and a free flowing kinetic sculpture used to hang photos I chose the french toast stamp. Now I have to make french toast so I can try it out. Afterwards we drove back to Dallas.



Amidst all of this activity I found time to write something of interest:



Past water towers full of soot,

Dried out dust desperately searching for a home.

Light by light and day by day,

we run, we run the night away.



What are you thinking, what do you want?

A wallflower in repose,

a little boy with big eyes,

watching the whole world fly by.



Stick out your hand,

no more fire.

Bum a ride,

a perverts desire.



Low rolling hills lit by lights

barely shining.

Different world decorating spirits

softly dwelling.



Light up signs,

piano playing quietly on.

A runway for our

transcendental plane.



To rise up and up and

over the sea,

to a different world,

wont you come with me?



There's a good song

to push us on.

We use all we get before we're gone.



We're in some far off Asia now,

and we stop to look around.

But all we see are the same rolling hill's and we

realize

our tires never even left the ground.





yours truly,

Zak