2009

Look into my eyes Please tell me what you see Do you know who I am Or have you seen someone Just like me Standing in the background With dark solemn eyes We are the Rebel Children Broken yet strong We can be found everywhere Or nowhere at all We are the vacant eyes Of a forsaken god Always watching But who sees nothing And does nothing Hollow and dark We are the stain glass windows Peering deep into your soul We do not pass judgment We are the just the eyes Of a century How foolish for anyone To have ever believe We as humans Were the images of angels We are god’s Rebel Children Never what we are expected To be in the end We fight through silence With our angry eyes Cast not at heaven But into the passersbys God didn’t make us this way We did We are the rampant soul Of a stubborn child We want only what we do not have And hate all else The consumers and buyers Burning a hole in your soul Grinding in a cigarette butt No chance for a fire ever again Snuff out that spark of life Leaving you in an eternity of darkness That you yourself created So empty and hollow Just trying to fill that hole The hole you burned With your money and lies With your jealousy and hate Slowly destroying your life We are the Rebel Children Who just don’t belong The ones who can’t sleep at night But can’t ever really wake up We are everything And nothing at all

Yeah, you know you are jealous. I bet you wish you had a BBQ place named after you.

A strange short story I just wrote quickly, not sure whether I like it or not. Let me tell you of the story of the man with no eyes. He was a man of simple needs. A man perpetually waiting for nothing. Everyday he would take walks. He would leave his home, the screen door swinging shut behind him, left for the wind to play with as it was blown open again and again, he walked down his front step and straight down his walkway bordered by a small sea of neatly kept grass. He would always turn left no matter the day. He would walk for hours his head bent down walking to nowhere talking to no one. He would walk to the park and sit on his bench. Alone and silent. Listening to the children play and the wind dance past him. He would walk to the market but never walk inside. Just stand there looking at the doors that opened at his presence and then closed once again. He would walk to the ocean and stand by the sea. His arms folded behind him, his chin held to the breeze. He would stand there in silence all alone again. He was a man of simple needs. ...

You were so cute on your bike. You were trying so hard to stay ahead of everyone. I don’t know if your face was sunburnt or maybe it just looked red, but you were putting so much effort into it. I congratulate you on that but what made you so bent on trying to be first? Maybe you are just trying to get your training wheels off, but still, the effort is what counts. Keep it up kid.

In San Jose next to the Art Museum my friends and I wondered around in a little winter wonderland. In there we found this tree, an International Baccalaureate tree. Yes, it exists and here is my evidence.

I saw you out in front of the San Jose Museum of Art with my friends. They got to see my creepering in action for the first time because of you. I really enjoyed your sunglasses and hat. I wonder where you were headed because you didn’t go into the art museum you just walked by leaving your bike chained out front.

Charlotte, Gordon, and I decided it was about time we went to see the annual Santa Cruz Lighted Boat Parade down at the harbor this year. We bundled ourselves up, grabbed a little food, and camped out on a bench to enjoy the show. I headed out to the end of one of the docks to get some photos. They didn’t come out great, but I do like the colors. The highlights had to be the hula dancers on the outrigger, and the kayaks. It was also pretty funny when the end of our dock started to sink with all the people crowded on the end. ...