I'm happy just to dance with you

April 22, 2002 (Mon)

KZ

0

It's funny the way love progresses. In the beginning, long before you're even in love, it's all about talking. That's what makes or breaks the relationship...talking. If you and that special somebody find yourselves suffocating in agonizing silence, you eventually realize that that nonsense of being together is nothing but a bad idea. But if all goes well, you find yourselves connecting in so many ways. You talk about past loves, future hopes, current fears, and the endless potential that drives your unwritten lives. Then that first kiss comes, and something changes. The new paradigm that defines your relationship is a combination of conversation and physical aff...

Fall into the trends

April 17, 2002 (Wed)

KZ

0

Stupid mass-produced Gap clothing. I can't wear my track jackets anywhere without passing some guy wearing the same thing. It's an endless battle, I guess. No matter what you wear, you're conforming to some kind of tragic standard. You want true individuality? Try punching a collar and arm holes into a potato sack and roping pink shoelace around your waste to serve as a belt. Me? Well, I've come to accept that fact that I'll always look like somebody else. Of course, the next time I see some guy sporting one of my outfits, I might see it fit to regulate (Warren G style).

Half a Page of Scribbled Lines

April 14, 2002 (Sun)

KZ

0

Moments of truth have a funny way of blindsiding you when you’re looking the other way. Just yesterday, I spent most of the day with my father’s father, my only surviving grandparent. In the morning, I drove up to San Francisco with my dad and my brother to pick up my grandfather. When we arrived, he wasn’t ready yet. So the three of us parked outside my grandfather’s apartment and walked across the street to buy some food. On our way back to the apartment, I hear my brother say, in an anxious tone, “he’s already out.” Immediately, my dad bolts across the street and grabs onto my grandfather, making sure he doesn’t trip and fall. I know San Francisco isn’t very...

If You Really Think About It

April 13, 2002 (Sat)

KZ

0

Well, spring has finally sprung around here, and that means people all around me are dying of hay fever. I feel so bad, because I actually enjoy the rich scent of nectar and pollen in the air. In an ideal world, everybody would have the opportunity to appreciate spring that way that I’ve been able to. But spring is about so much more than pretty scents and warm breezes. Sure, outdoor recreation and falling in love are certainly signs of the season; but above all other reasons, spring is so significant because it is a time of reproduction. Just think…it was only a month or two ago when the animals in your local ecosphere were feeding on winter rations and sheltering...

A Heart of Hope Tainted by the Heart of Darkness

April 9, 2002 (Tue)

KZ

0

“I hate those people who say, ‘follow your heart.’” he says. “It’s never, ‘follow your mind.’ They're so ignorant, they create a vacuum that I can't stand next to.” I laughed then, and I'm still laughing now. Oh, that Martin. I can’t say I completely disagree with him, though. How do you expect to accomplish any of your goals if you keep forfeiting to your every whim? A lot of people I talk to seem to have it all together. When I hear them talk about their agendas and their aspirations for success, I just feel really small. I plotted out an agenda once, but that was only because I felt obligated to do so. It’s not a bad plan; I just wonder if it’s the right ...

As Jack Kerouac Once Said, "Words Have No Meaning"

April 6, 2002 (Sat)

KZ

0

Sometimes I forget why I love writing so much. It's funny how much of a conundrum my love for writing has turned out to be. Bitching and moaning, lamenting lost love, crooning for that new special somebody, sharing insights into the rhymes and dissonance of life -- that's what it's all about. But ever since the beginning, I've overthought every damn word I've written. There are times when I get so caught up in pretension and flowery words that even I can't take my writing seriously. I tried keeping a writing journal, once. I figured that I'd be able to pump out a billion and half poems and short stories if I'd just commit to scribbling down my truest thoughts. To t...

UA-19136086-1