silicon valley fashion accessory #37, part 2

So it has been about a year since I posted about the bluetooth wireless headset thing. Specifically, how silly it seemed for people to go around with this funny looking thing hanging on the side of their head even when they aren't on the phone. Moreover, how incredible silly it is when people use the product as a symbol of prestige or wealth or in some cases, astronomical and almost superlative attraction to geeky gadgets that potentially put them ahead of the social-techno elite...or something like that.

In any case, after much observation I have found that in almost 9 out of 10 ten cases it is always men who wear these headsets as a fashion accessory. It makes me want to do a field trip to say, Milan or Paris to see if this is in fact a male thing or if it is an American male thing (like the big chrome wheels with spinners. The person who invented that should be duct taped to a windmill in Northern Netherlands facing the North Sea).

However, in a moment of epiphany a great idea came to me that could be a rather interesting book and/or documentary...the subject could be:

"The Evolution of Product Design: the evolution of a product from basic utility to vanity support in case studies."

I've got a thesis idea for grad school!!!! Hah, the irony of it leaves a metallic taste in my mouth. Or is that blood?!

living in memory

Scene:
Sitting in a cafe sipping tea. Woman walking out the door, talking to person behind counter, "I'm so sick of this rain. It won't stop."

observation:
People so easily fall into the habit of complaining about the gloomy, rainy weather that they turn their behavior shallow and transparent. They fail to see the beauty of the swirling droplets of moisture in the light breeze, backlit by the early morning sun. They fail to see the gorgeous, soft hints of violet at the edges of the not too distant clouds and how they look against the luminous white and silver strata of suspended water. It is a subjective reality and they limit themselves to the perceptive lens of other people's misplaced and misfounded expectations of how they should see the world. They are living in the reactions of someone else's memory. C'est dommage...

grandpa

oh old departed man
everytime i look at certain plants
their blooms and foliage

bring you back to me
i see you in the garden
bent over feeding the glorious white roses

you have not left me at all,
not as i thought
like the old monk said,

"death is only a notion,
a human notion"
i've been listening to this

intuition inside of me,
wondering from where it comes
wondering of its vibrant, almost violent

intensity like the color
of a crimson rose bleeding into white
i am realizing it is still you

inside of me, you still teaching
i should have known you had
not finished the lessons yet

firefly

it was a stranger in the crowd
someone passing by, a glance, an impression,
an almost encounter that brought visions of firefly

briefly but vividly
triangulated between
the eyes, the brain and the heart

the pools of her dark eyes
loomed in my field like
the black sea under a new moon

how could such titan eyes
be supported by the waif like frame?
how does the smile below those eyes

move my being more than
three hundred gods
in six thousand years?

the vision of firefly departed
as quickly as it came,
my internal triangle unable to hold

her presence like the giant
tanks of chemicals buried by
scientists trying to capture neutrinos

daffodils

today the pear blossoms looked so odd against the cold dark sky
spring says it is her time but winter still holds with jealously,
not willing to let go of the hues of her shadows

the cedars and the spruces remain indifferent to the conflict
since they bear their green with pride in all seasons
to the edge of arrogance

meanwhile in this bitter cold
the daffodils smile as they do,
smile their best smiles when they populate

the resting places of worm eaten bodies and
bones usurped by young apple trees

petals

what have i done?
have i set something in motion
that was not yet to be?

have i thrown a stone into a silent
pool and changed the universe?
a universe like a child not yet ready to grow?

have i torn the rose petals of affection
and skewered them onto their own thorns?

cold

behold, i am become cold
i am become the cold that has been in my heart
the shards of ice that has pierced my flesh
is no more because i am become the floes of ice
that wanders the endless oceans

i am in love

what does that mean?

it means i see a vision that gods can't explain. it means my heart is suddenly in the shape of someone else. this other person, she has changed the way i see the world. she has changed the shape of my heart. i have found my form. she has found my destruction. in my way. in my heart, i am destroyed. i am doomed.

i am in love.

Morning

Morning comes with stillness.
Droplets of dew still remain on the vines,
Lazy moisture cling to the edges of burdened leaves
Heavy with the weight of heaven’s tears.

Redolent angels cry only in the human night.
Redolent angels fear to reveal heaven’s confict
To those who steadfastly believe in celestial rumors.
Eons pass without success,

Even angels give up telling the truth
And let rumors be accepted as reality.
Being God’s messengers doesn’t make enduring
A codependent parent any easier to bear.

beauty

there is a little something
of beauty in all of the little moments
that i have in my days

there is a little something
of beauty in smiling at a stranger
and having her return the look

it is in the shifting of the wind,
the whirl of a moving leaf

it is in the momentary hold
of someone else’s lips

it is in the look of wonderment
in the face of an innocent child

in a moment, i am reminded
of why i hang on in this miserable life

in a moment, i am reminded
of the jewels of the mundane

in a moment, i am reminded
of the beauty of your smile

blossoms

blossoms flutter in the spring wind

she refuses the breath of winter
she is angry of my affair
the way i caress ice
and the way ice melts in my touch

blossoms throws me petals
the way crèpe myrtle snows in spring
the way white flecks color my smile

but i am in love with winter
winter shapes her ice in my form
freezing me to the form

of a belonging that
she finds in me without my consent

flecks

i know the flecks in the sun of her eyes.

they are the dark spots from which
solar flares will erupt.

emotions that throw themselves,
coming from below the surface
of wistful intent painted vermillion.

i know the flecks in the sun of her soul.

they are the instructions for what
my will is subject to.

emotions that throw themselves
at a receiving hollow receptacle
filling human void with
something cosmically alien.

Middle Ground

what is the middle ground
when a heart draws

from the inside
what the eyes see?

an expression

not quite formed
in a stranger's eyes

that you suddenly
understand?

something once thought
beyond ability

glancing of words

last night, what started as a perfectly normal and balanced conversation became another "glancing of words." however, i must be learning because i processed through the event afterward and found that i was able to understand it and let it go because it was not really mine to own. little victories.

Beynac. 1997

It was a steep climb on the cobblestone street
To the precipitous seat of Chateau Beynac.
What were we thinking on such a warm day?
At the base, we laughed at a wooden sign
In front of a bakery that read “PAiN.”

Later, following the narrow winding streets
We turned a bend and were rewarded with
An unusual, amusing sight; against a low
Stone wall was an exuberant splash of color.
There hanging was a strange fruit;
A melon sized squash of blood orange hue.

I stooped beneath the dangling orb,
Looking at it against the powder blue sky.
It was a form of nature’s perfection
Against a clear robin’s egg heaven.

You smiled at me with a smile
An adult uses with a child when in wonderment.
I’m sure you thought the sparkle in my eyes
Was due to what my playful vision discovered.

Little did you know the perfection of the moment
Was actually your heartful’s reaction to my childishness.

Amboise, 1997

We stood on the old ramparts of ancient Amboise
Looking northeast upon the Loire.
Late morning's light hung like lazy haze
Shining on the endless tree lined shore.
It was a view from another life
Momentarily shared by our other lives.
You watched as I rummaged through the
Backpack for our lunch, smiling.
We ate a simple meal; bread, cheese and fruit.
A little communion coming to be,
A humble treasure of this universe.
But not as precious as the strands of gold
Absently disturbed by a rising breeze
And finding their resting place on your brow,
Crowning the wistful hazel and amber in your eyes.

vestiges

band with sapphire heart
now rests in old jewel box
old soul, new karma

--

in times, i wonder
the tale of her hazel eyes,
hollow of my heart

--

this face in my sleep
so thoughtful in her intent
holds to linger, still

nocturne

four twenty eight a.m.
silence and darkness.
outside, palm fronds fray
against grieving shutters.
through broken stained windows
venetian blinds hum and heave
melancholy meowing chords.
on the floor, bands
of pale gauzy light
elaborate bruised, empty fractures.
a passed over geography
of pitted terra cotta tiles.
wait. wait wantingly and the moment
will come when the waning
senses surrender to calm
and sweet slumber deftly
persuades the wrinkled mind to
uncoil the body into dreamless repose

buddhist nun ringing bell

buddhist nun ringing bell
Originally uploaded by equusignis.

she calls me after midnight to give me a pep talk. she tells me that i've never let her down, that i was a good husband and always a good provider. she tells me that it was never about me, it was about her and i had no control in it. the irony of it, almost five years after the fact. how am i supposed to respond? she tells me that her boyfriend has the utmost respect of me. how am i supposed to respond to that? is this some kind of weird closure? she tells me that it is up to me to get up and go, that i've not lost anything. if anything, it has just been dormant. what the hell?

it seems trite but it is appropriate:

"Up, down, turn around; please don't let me hit the ground
Tonight I think I'll walk alone; find my soul as I go home

Oh it's the last time, oh it's the last time

Each way I turn
I know I'll always try
To break the circle
That has been placed round me..."
--Moby

Inferno: Canto I

Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.

Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
Which in the very thought renews the fear.

--Dante