how i discover random shit that never comes up in conversation

i just got done reading a most interesting short story that i found online, but i don't quite know what the ending stood for - perhaps that was the point. anyway, it's a "post-romance" article: (http://zsg.tumblr.com/post/25773652375/post-romance). how'd i stumble onto such a random story? well, i was watching a Star Trek episode, but paused it to retrieve my headphones, since my brother just entered the room to go to bed and i didn't want to disturb him. so i go to resume my episode, but, since sound only comes out of the left earpiece on occasion, i paused the episode once again to adjust the headphone jack. having now lost my place, i rewind the episode a bit; but since i'm far from my wifi hub, it takes some time to load. so, as i wait for it to load, i play some music on iTunes; nothing too obtuse, since it is about 2am (and since i'm already close to passing the fuck out, anyway). about the seventh song down from the top is Alone in Kyoto by Air - perfect! well, as it plays, i can't help but recall one of my favorite movies, Lost in Translation, who's soundtrack this song belongs to. and as my eyes slowly wander back to the computer screen, i notice that the genre section is left blank; i google the soundtrack (well actually, i "bing" it), trying to meticulously satisfy one extension of my OCD, which, like i just said, includes painstakingly labeling songs who's genre section is empty. on the hunt for doing so, and subsequently finding myself on the wikipedia page for Lost in Translation, i scroll down to the "Analysis" section which tantalizes my interest, and find that someone has used the term "postromance" to describe the unconventional romantic plot that the events of this film rotate around. being the google (and that means bing) addict that i am, i watch my other opened tab kick back a list of links containing the novel term, the third of which i click on, and BOOM, before i know it i find myself identifying with the main character, who is a cynical misanthrope and does not see the point in superficial, time-killing conversation with the fellow drones commonly called human beings.

the funny thing is, part of me sat back watching the whole thing going on like a third-person observer, and i thought my lack of an attention span yielded quirky enough results to write about here on my blog. i actually also really love the title i chose for this one. and, even as i type these v e r y   l e t t e r s   t h a t   c o a l e s c e   i n t o   w o r d s , all i'm really thinking about are movies like Spaceballs and Being John Malkovich and wondering how many of you realized that i've just broken the fourth wall and that this is a run-on sentence and that i'm about to make the object-reference after the upcoming semicolon vague and if you even know what the literary term "fourth wall" means; but if not, then you should look it up!

heaven only knows

heaven rests but a mere step beyond nocturnal reflection

and i guess i'll never get there

especially with this damned furnace ringing in my ear.

pressing questions left the mind stressed

as the senses intercept quiet messages

nearly whispered, but clear, nonetheless.

nearly cleared for takeoff, taken off the first class guest list

the third glass nurtures erratic attention

up until the vastly vivid void swept in...

free association 5

white
ice
blue
glass
window
sky
water
ocean
jellyfish
transparent
bioluminescence
neon
ambient
dim
atmospheric
quiet
calm
frozen
statue
marble
pillar
stone
lava
magma
hot
fire
coal
carbon
diamond
mine
dark
black

math and that imagined

the life of a nihilist, defiling icons with strife
heightened supreme crumbles silently at midnight
mise en abîme supplied a final dream with the missing scene
the calm before the storm, peaceful, serene...

___

see, baked up in the kitchen was a feeble snack plate
a disease-ridden needle, cut smack and crack base,
subtract some from brashly tapped veins and lips cracked
that not even a slab of fast-acting chapstick can patch...

the door latch had detached, but attacking wasn't an addict
a few boots were added, divvied semi-automatics
but the cops suddenly jumped, shocked from watching a pump-fake and
stopped as the pump popped up, waiting as aching gums draped--

the sum reclined on the base of a mouth full of grit,
residing in the basement on a couch with a hit
and on the come up he went down, off to imagining static
he had it coming, but actually, he had let HIMSELF have it...

winter heat

it's about seven am in

central November, when

ice manifests on steps and the

sounds are toned down by

white piles
lying

out on the ground.

her

tired eyes met those

mounds where she'll

eventually tread, some

seven hours ahead of now -

but for now, just
rest...

resting on a

twin bed at ease, her

head sets on his chest,

nestling,

surrounded by

red lights and a

dressing of fleece;

above it, at least, is

seven degrees less than that of the sweat of

bred heat

met beneath.

see, the temperatures

read differently between, and,

just between you and me, some

zealous squeal revealed a

brief trip to ecstasy and

concealed the

best hit of 2.7183, slightly prior to this ordeal...

mealless, he'd wondered if

ordering sweet peaches between

spreads of pasted marmalade will

leave his taste buds in a daze,

so he

grazed the barren landscape, searching for

traces that might lead him astray, to a

temperate and eventful place where

he might be able to stay, perhaps a

waterway to

waste away the rest of his day...

___

seven + seven + seven = 2 + 7 + 1 + 8 + 3 = 21

2.7183 ≈ e