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© 1999-2002
Ryan D. Pants

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November 18th, 2001

the october sky above my house

leonid lines.

 passing cars, passing south meadow road For at least 10 years
I have been in love
with the sky.

Up late, typing
that saturday night
until four a.m.
when my parents woke
my sister rose,
my friend Matthew arrived.
This quiet house.

 approaching plymouth bay in june, from the provincetown ferry There stood
my mother, hat and scarf
squinting herself awake
bundled like winter toddlers
in her old album photographs.
Adorable.

We stepped out--
flashlights bobbing, summercamp style
avaporless, crystal 28 degrees
billions and billions
streaking blips of light
sunset from the southers marsh parking lot, november 10th, hitting golf balls lying on hard ground.

I couldn't help but think
here and elsewhere, loved ones
and strangers
looking up, all
at once
snow-free.

Trucklights,
where live and work
the seldom soundings of dogs and engines
  passing over new york, march 2001 nightperched in lawnchairs.

I remained sleepless
at the chain
coffee shop, a 5 am novelty;
townspeople alive with subtle
celestial frenzy.

I stared into my styrofoam.

Beyond independence day
there had been
 driving to the outback steakhose with steph, erik, mike and kevin - april 2001 thousands of falling wishes
over our sentient bodies,
such confused midnight
concerned citizens:

"That man is no good.
I didn't order this
I slept through
my alarm,
no damn blinker
and what's on tv I can't
find my checkbook,
  plymouth birds in august what happens next."

Missing the chit-chat
I sat
at the table, sip, sip,
consumed with sleepless
thoughts like this,
until we up and go.

Cracking jokes
in the car,
smirking self-deprication,
  and one donut too many.

We chase first light,
over the Atlantic,
until Manomet bluff:
I reheard the resonances
of two good friends, across
the continent
who had joined me there, once.

No camera, just the coming
morning and others
 fall trees watching from pickup
trucks.

The dawn is seasonless,
that wispy bedplace
blinking.

Ceilings and skylights;
midnight sneezes, piercing
my shivering shoulders
and long hands fidget,
always too full of my own words,
never a wave-particle.

with many short streaks. 17 comments.

 



let's rock!
+ 13

as the rain tap taps against my windowpane, i discover the hard way that chapstick is no cure for a bloody lip.
+ 1

bryant gumbel gumbel gumbel.
+ 8

my room smells like chewing tobacco, but i do not chew tobacco.
+ 1

Awol formally leaves us.
+ 10

put on your black dress.
+ 3

James Brown is one plastic looking soulful dude. You can see his lips twitching, itching to start screaming out into that old-timey court microphone.
+ 1

a fine lunch: seafood chowder and cornbread, made by mom.
+ 5

The Small World Research Project: a sociological study using the internet to test the "six degrees of separation" theory.
+ 0

new habits for Franciscan monks.
+ 2

freezing gusts of rain
tossing my ride about
like a shopping cart running
from an empty
parking lot
+ 3

the cool hum of wind, blowing.
+ 0

Dr. Zig redesigns in the 25th Century.
+ 0

Is Hollywood really this dumb? A great review by the Bill Simmons (the Boston Sports Guy) of Rollerball, a movie he calls thoroughly "reprehensible". The best review of a horrible film that you could ever hope to read, quirky and critical.
+ 3

chunky peanut butter is way underrated.
+ 13

So I spend St. Valentines Day doing my taxes. Which is fine. Dates never give me a refund.
+ 4

From the WTF? file: "Queens Unversity students spin out of conrtrol while taking part in the Great Northern Concrete Toboggan Race in Winnipeg, Manitoba on Saturday Feb. 2, 2002. Engineering students from across Canada raced the toboggans with the undersides made from concrete and weighing 300 lbs." Man. That's safe. Just imaging how much momentum we're talking.
+ 3

Ahhh! Oh. God. That scared me. And... ahhhh! A sabre-toothed mountain lion is eating his giant head!
+ 8

NO, I DO NOT WANT A TINY WIRELESS VIDEO CAMERA.
+ 18

According to the Boston Globe, teen drug use remains the same, but ecstasy use is up 71% since '99. But "use of inhalants, such as glue" is still more common than use of E.
+ 1

 



February 25th, 1988

I am tired of walking. I wish someone would give me something. I never did like to walk. Maybe someon would give me somthing that can get me from place to place fast. That would be neat.
+ 9

February 24th, 1988

I like school alot. I learn lots of things. I eat lunch and go out for recess. I like to go home too. I like it at home.
+ 0

February 23rd, 1988

Today we had a sub bus driver. We were late getting in. I a hurrying my Journal. I hope I finish in time. I can't belive I did
+ 1

February 22nd, 1988

I went to New Hampshire. My whole family went, except for my sister. We went skiing, and stayed in a hotel. The rest of the week I played outside. Boy did we have fun.
+ 4



:2002:
       01/13/2002 - 01/19/2002
       01/20/2002 - 01/26/2002
       01/27/2002 - 02/02/2002
       02/03/2002 - 02/09/2002
       02/10/2002 - 02/16/2002
       02/17/2002 - 02/23/2002

:2001:
Dec. 14.
Nov. 26. 18. 11.
Oct. 23. 16. 10. 1.
Sep. 26. 21. 18. 16. 13. 11.
Jun. May. Apr. Mar. Feb. Jan.

:2000:
Dec. Nov. Oct. Sep. Aug. Jul. Jun. May. Apr. Mar. Feb. Jan.

:1999:
Fall. Spring.

 



Whatever floats your boat or finds your lost remote / and this is for the ni**as working at the airport / who got laid off / I take my shades off / if you look straight it my eyes, you still might see a disguise/ 'Cause the whole world loves it when you don't get down.

OutKast,
The Whole World
+ 1

in a town so small, there's no escaping you. in a town so small, there's no escape from view. in a town so small, there's nothing left to do.

belle and sebastien,
dirty dream number two.
+ 1

It is the act of reading itself I miss, the oppurtunity to retreat further and further from the world until I have found some space, some air that isn't stale, that hasn't been breathed by my family a thousand times already.... And when I've finished it I will start another one, and that might be even bigger, and then another, and I will be able to keep extending my house until it becomes a mansion, full of rooms where they can't find me.

Nick Hornby,
About a Boy, page 303.
+ 4

 


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