A Flow of Electrons

All experience and achievement is based on a flow of electrons.

A gradient of positive charge to negative charge.

An elemental natural state for man

with eyes raised to the sky, a creation of light from heat.

Rapid oxidation exciting electrons

from a solid state to a gaseous

or oxygen to carbon dioxide

(or, in oxygen-poor environments, monoxide).

The type, type, type,

space, space, space of the keyboard.

The electrostatic force in the electrons in his finger

push against the electrostatic force in the button

signaling a release of electrons to the motherboard

and there it is

the letter g.

The ideas that changed the human universe

gravity from the electrons in Newton's head

which undoubtedly came from eating apples

that were assimilated into gray matter,

apple electrons flowing to think about a falling apple.

Wave particle duality from the heads of planck and Heisenberg

matter masquerading as monks with their heads down.

Like religion, each culture has its own story about the creation of zero.

(Either the Arabs were first, or the Mayans

or the Egyptians. Or the Greeks.)

001010001110011.

Off, off, on, off, on, off, off, off, on, on, on, off, off, on, on.

Atoms share electrons -

we share knowledge.

Natural selection against numbers (or Gradualism against symbols)

As I've grown more accustomed to using words

it seems that my former proficiency with numbers

leaks out of my head

until I'm adding 52 as 54.

Consciousness evolved as a defense mechanism -

evolving, as punctuated equilibrium to external stimuli.

The stimulus - florescent light, adjectives and adverbs.

Natural selection against numbers. Gradualism against symbols.

The accountant forgets how to use the correct form

of their, there, they're.

And the toll booth attendant forgets

how to treat people in a social situation.

(Which is I guess why they're always talking on their cell phones.)

(Training for a future social situation.)

(One where they're not alone, in between 20 second interactions with strangers.)

(Abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz.)

If:

Man, being alive, conscious and afraid, forgets how to live.

And:

Woman, being alive, conscious and afraid, forgets how to live.

We learn from the Bible:

God is faithfully unafraid.

Therefore:

God is not alive.

An explanation of the prior piece

I'm usually a firm believer that you shouldn't have to explain what you write, but I don't want "A Collective Social Experience" to be taken the wrong way.

The last piece was not an indictment of being pro-choice. In fact, I'm very pro-choice. I was thinking about access to choice, and wanted to explore (and make you think) about how our access to money influences the choices we make. Does that mean a woman who sticks out an unwanted pregnancy is more pious than a woman who takes society's so-called "easy way out"? I don't know. I don't think so, but I've never had to make that choice.

My point is this: I think the piece talks about how access influences choice, but I'm not so sure it doesn't also talk about how choice influences access - that is, a woman whose mother has a child out of wedlock is also more likely to have a child out of wedlock - so our parent's choices influence our choices, whether as a function of wealth, religion, or both.

That's it. I didn't want to delete it, even though I thought about it, but I decided an explanation would be prudent.

A Collective Social Experience

Aborted fetuses and birth control

shield young rich girls

from the fate of their poor counterparts.

Allowing them to go on unfettered,

unrelenting on their path to perfection.

A collective social experience

shared by the affluent, the pretty

and the better off.

An understanding between them

of how close life got to the trailer, or the projects.

A way to control thousands of years

of urges between tall boys

and busty girls.

A way to give the wanted child everything,

including their own chance to do the same.

The i In Voice

Strain to hear
my small voice
Please.
Waves crash to the shore
At intervals
Drowning. White noise

i am hungry
To find the words
To say what i mean
Far from the land of my birth
With its colorful
Papaya and language
That no longer fits

The dichotomy of the
american dream
i open each text ready
To find the words
my words
Searching for me

III.- A return to normalcy

On the street

sweltering fumes rose from block after block

and our heads swam with beer.

The dark kind, less like beer and more liquor.

I can smell the smoke on you, I said.

A long drag of summer.

A return to normalcy -

the other seasons, deviant.

Dead, dying or diseased.

My breathing set side by side with coughing.

Your dress hung off you like curtains

and you concealed your bagged eyes

with concealer and sunglasses.

You mourned, the days passed by without you noticing.

Our trysts revolved around sport

food and pieces of Orbit.

In rapid succession

our own orbit was elliptical -

at times close and others distant.

I wake up removed.

Clove clinging to cilia,

scotch served clean

and always regretful of the past.

Like putting on a sad song

and walking away from the music

unwilling to listen but needing it to be playing.

Scene bars with PBR.

Text messages and penitence.

II.-An ill-fitting dress

When people emerge from Winter

bleak eyes three months dimmer from

florescent lights

they open their cores to the thought

that their gametes could converge with another's.

But like the worst night of a show's run,

where the New York Times reviewer sits in row two

and stares down his nose, through his glasses, 

and chortles. CHORTLES! -

I shaved a forest of growth

and she put on an ill-fitting dress.

We walked down to the corner 

(or we met there, I can't remember. Damn the cold.)

and bellied up to the bar.

The spring threatened, but wavered.

It was warm, but it wasn't.

It was nice, but it was snowing.

It rained for three days straight.

But inside, my Blackberry still went off.

Her iPhone tempted her to better company.

Maybe the promise of a better time, with better people

and more attractive mates.

She told me how wonderful the springtime was

and I remarked on how tree pollen made me feel lightheaded, but not high.

My phone went off and hers did too.

I laughed, and though of how the poor rely on their technology.

The trick to being rich, I said finally, is to be above your phone and e-mail.

Be there, but not there. Be so there that you are unable to be found.

Like Jesus. 

(If there was ever a fellow above it all, it was Jesus. Body and mind.)

Jesus' would have never answered his cellphone.

The Legend of El Misti

Continued...

CAMERA SHOT THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD OF AN ON-COMING PASSENGER BUS APPROACHING THE FOUR MEN.

BUS APPROACHES. CAMERA PANS TO RIGHT. WIDENS TO SHOW ALL FOUR. 

The four men stand outside the local agency were they began their day fresh from the overnight bus ride from the east coast of Peru. The sun is shinning brightly. The dry air sets the stage of a truly epic adventure. The clock reads 1:43PM. 

KYLE

This must be the 4x4. I imagined something a bit more...4x4.

MATT

What? Never underestimate the power of a...

He leans to the right side to take a look at the manufacture of the aged and wore white multi-passenger bus. 

...umm, 1974 hot-pickle bus.

VICTOR

This is going to be awesome!

The driver hops out of the driver's side and comes over to the curb where the four stand and starts to load the hiker's bags and equipment. The owner comes out of the store and assists the driver and gives him instructions in spanish.

DRIVER

Hola. 

MATT, ZACH, VICTOR

Hola. 

KYLE

Hi.

OWNER

We wait for guide. On his way down. Just a few minutes. Not Long. 

The four sit in the bus. The bags tightly packed in front. Kyle and Zach sit in the middle seats next to the bags. Victor sits in the back with Matt as he stretches his legs out. The four relax in the van and await the guide. It's 2:02PM. 

ALL FOUR LOUNGE IN THE VAN. CAMERA SHOT FROM OUTSIDE SLIDING DOOR. 

Time passes. The clock now reads 2:34PM. The owner and the driver stand outside the store talking. The four remain in the van.

KYLE

Where not going anywhere.

ZACH

This sucks... 

Where is the guide?

 Didn't he say he was on the way down the mountain?

MATT

That's what he said. I bet he's calling one right now.

VICTOR

He'll be here.

KYLE

You're so glass half full. 

I love it...

 But I don't think we are going anywhere today. 

FOCUSED ON THE CONVERSATION OF THE OWNER AND DRIVER AND FOLLOW AS THE DRIVER APPROACHES THE VAN AND GETS IN.

The owner comes to the door of the van and speaks to the four who still sit in the van very relaxed and visibly tired and low. 

OWNER

We are going to meet the guide and pick him up on the way. 

Ok? He is on his way.

MATT

Alright.

ZACH

Are we going to have enough time to make it to the top?

OWNER

You said you were strong. You hike fast.

The four laugh but the expressions on their faces show that they know the owner's words are only half jokingly. Excitement again fills the faces as the van starts and rolls towards the volcano.

The van continues to make turn after turn through the city streets. The four pier through the van's windows looking for their destination. The van comes to a stop at an intersection. 

DRIVER

We wait for the guide.

ZACH

Again?

KYLE

We aren't going anywhere.

MATT

I am starting to believe you.

VICTOR

My glass is half empty.

The clock now reads 3:27PM and still no guide. Matt and Zach are standing outside the van looking over a brick wall that separates a school's play area from the town streets. They make faces at the staring children. Kyle stretched out in the van is falling asleep and Victor is playing with his iphone. 

DRIVER

He's here!

A small blue pickup truck pulls up behind the van and a man wearing a hat and a pair of sunglasses gets out of the passenger seat and walks towards the van. His pack is the size of the small blue pickup.

GUIDE

Hola.

He continues to speak in spanish to the driver and they pile back into the van and head towards the volcano. Conversation banters between the guide and driver in spanish. 

KYLE

Did anyone ask to see if the guide speaks english?

ZACH

I am sure he speaks a little.

KYLE

He hasn't said an english word yet.

 This is getting more interesting by the minute. 

CAMERA TURNS FROM CONVERSATION BETWEEN DRIVER AND GUIDE TO KYLE AND ZACH AND THEN FOCUSES ON MATT AS HE STARES OUT THE VAN'S WINDOW.

MATT

Domination... might have to wait a few days.

The van turns onto a dirt road and as the van makes a quick left the volcano stands alone with a bright blue sky. It's huge. The clock on the dashboard reads 3:43PM.

VICTOR

Oh, shit...

That's big. 

Victor turning from looking out the window reaches down for his water bottle. Grabbing it and then lifting it to his mouth to take a drink. He realizes his bottle is empty.

ZOOM IN ON BOTTLE AND VICTOR AS HE TURNS TO HIS VAN MATES HOLDING HIS WATER BOTTLE AS TO TELL EVERYONE THE ADVENTURE HAS BEGUN. CAMERA TURNS TO FOCUS ON THE BACK SEAT WHERE MATT AND ZACH SIT. THEY STARE AT THE BOTTLE AND THEN AT EACH OTHER. 

Kyle grabs his water bottle from his bag. He holds it and turns to the three others then to Victor. 

KYLE

Quick! Fill it up!

to be continued...

I.- Systems Of Commerce

Snow falls in February

and people on their way to work

crash their cars,

choking systems of commerce.

It's a good thing mag chloride

(not just good for making tofu)

stopped the metal monster

from sliding across the median.

Unprepared and unready

for the thing February is known for.

What did you expect, I told her

it snows and people die.

We haven't evolved past dying,

yet.

She doesn't care,

she just walked across the courtyard,

picking up after her dog.

They'll give you a ticket you know.

She didn't hear a word I said to her,

and she should have been paying attention, too.

But she thinks she knows it all.

And what do I know? She could be God,

we all could 

and she's never convinced me of anything less.

Inside the apartment building, 

she keeps a candle lit.

The landlord doesn't know,

and never will. They can't take it away from me.

Remember the dorm? Remember the no candle rule?

It's inhuman to make man live without fire.

The first technology.

Take away my cell phone, then. My Macbook.

They run my life. 

I suppose we've always

centered our lives around our newest technology,

she said, rubbing her hands together.

She blew the candle out,

turned off the computer, and her cell phone.

Left the bed, naked, without covering herself.

Cruelest Month

This is not poetry. This is prose, explaining my new radminds project, available, like most everything, in easy-to-digest installments. 

Like Kaili, who is going to be posting parts of a screenplay he's been working on, I'm going to work on and post parts of a poem.

I'll be posting the first part later tonight.

We're still looking for people to contribute. Would you like to?

The old Facebook flame

I don't think there's anything I like more than when an old flame friends me on Facebook.

I always feel like I won some sort of competition.

"Hey, I won because I didn't give in and request to see your Facebook first."

"I've pretended you don't exist longer than you could."

And it always ends up backfiring.

Not because I get jealous when I see she's moved on.

Started dating other people.

Or is *gasp* pregnant again, happily married or growing each day in the Lord.

It backfires because I remember the good and the bad.

So the lesson is this -

if you can't ignore a friend request,

can you ignore your past?

The Legend of El Misti

The Legend of El Misti

By Kaili Purviance

FADE IN.

EXT SMALL LOCAL TRAVEL AGENCY IN A SMALL PERUVIAN TOWN 

Four foreign travels stand with gear on their backs and tired from a long overnight bus trip looking at advertisements of local hiking trips in the area. Conversation banter between them about their fatigue.

MATT HANSON rests this hands on his hips looking up at the local agency's banners trying to translate the writing. 

KYLE JACKSON currently on one knee tying his shoe glancing down the streets taking in the surroundings. 

TWIN BROTHERS, ZACH AND VICTOR MADISON, are flipping through a travel guild researching about their local surroundings and scoping out their next move.

The four together step into the small local agency and begin conversation with the local business owner. The twins take the lead as they are the most versed in the foreign language. 

ZACH

Hola! Do you have any day hikes in the area this morning?

VICTOR

The canyons or the volcano? We only have today.

OWNER

Si. 

The four, with their tired smiles, are happy that one thing seems to be easy and effortless. After an overnight bus ride with a overflowing bathroom, they welcome the thought of an easy sell.

FLASH BACK TO OVERNIGHT BUS TRIP.

VICTOR LEANING BACK IN HIS BUS SEAT, MATT LEANING AGAINST THE WINDOW. BOTH MOVING AROUND TO FIND A COMFORTABLE POSITION. BATHROOM JUST TO THEIR LEFT, THE DOOR CRACKS OPEN AFTER EVERY SLIGHT MOVEMENT OF THE BUS. 

AIR FRESHENER IS SPRAYED TO MASK THE SMELL BUT ONLY SEEMS TO MAKE IT WORSE AS THE FACES OF THE FOUR OUR OBVIOUSLY AFFECTED BY THEIR GROTESQUE ENVIRONMENT. 

FORWARD TO PRESENT. SMILES ALL AROUND.

ZACH

Great! Which one can we go on?

OWNER

You leave tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock am. Meet you here. Take you to the volcano.

MATT

We only have today! Can we leave today? Anything right now?

The four can see the confusion on the owner's face and the smiles that once lit their faces have disappeared. There shoulders begin to slouch and the fatigue finds it's way back to their faces. 

KYLE

Yeah. Can we leave right now? 

OWNER

No. Nothing until tomorrow. Last group left at 9 o'clock am.

Knowing that they can not just sit around an do nothing. MATT had mentioned before that "we came here to dominate!" They continued to talk with the owner and try and persuade him to create another trip.

MATT

We're very strong. We can catch the early group! We just need a ride to the volcano. 

The brilliance of Kyle shows as he flexes and points to his biceps. It gets a laugh from the twins knowing that his spanish vocabulary is very limited. 

Zach leans to his brother and whispers that we will pay more if we have to. Matt overhears them and offers the owner more money.

MATT

How much for the trip? 

OWNER

40 US Dollars! Tomorrow. 

MATT

We will pay you 50 US dollars each if we can go today. Right now! Can you call another guide?

OWNER

Ok. One moment. 

Excited by the offer on the table the owner doesn't hesitate to run over to the pay phone and make a call. 

PAN BACK TO FOUR TOURISTS. THEY CONVERSE AND ROAM THE TRAVEL SHOP LOOKING AT HANGING PICTURES OF TOURS AND PACKAGES. 

THE OWNER SPEAKS INTO THE PHONE AND CONVERSES WITH WHOMEVER IS ON THE OTHER LINE. 

The conversation between the owner and the other person on the phone ends with a quick "si" "si" and then the owner hangs up the phone and walks towards the wondering four. 

CAMERA BACK TO THE FOUR AS THE OWNER WALKS BACK TO THEM IN A QUICK MANNER. 

OWNER

I have a guide at 1:30pm. Pick you up here and take you to the EL MISTI VOLCANO. Do you have tent or sleeping bag?

MATT

Ok but we don't have any gear. Can we rent?

ZACH

So we can leave today and come back tomorrow?

OWNER

Si. Pick up here at 1:30pm. Hike and camp today. Come back tomorrow early.

Victor

Alright! Lets do it!

The excitement fills the small one room agency. Victor high-fives Matt. Matt high-fives Zach. Kyle has made his way outside the small shop and into the street dancing around like the tourist he is. The owner gives the details to the remaining three.

CAMERA FOLLOWS KYLE TO STREET AND THEN PAN BACK TO GROUP LISTENING TO DIRECTIONS.

OWNER

Four sleeping bags. Two tents. Four sleeping mats. You carry. 

VICTOR

Ok. Quanto?

OWNER

50 U.S. Dollars. Each.

ZACH

Great! We'll do it! 

The four start to count their money. Each pulling money out of pockets, shoes, bags and any other places that might have been a stashing spot through their travels. 

PAN SHOT ALONG WALLS OF TRAVEL AGENCY. HANGING PICTURES OF PAST TRAVELERS AND ROUTES OF MULTI-DAY HIKES FINALLY FOCUSING ON THE HIKE OF EL MISTI.

to be continued...

Ninjas need a bailout.

It is a tough economic time for many of us. If not all of us. In some way it seems all of us are feeling the pinch. We try and save pennies everywhere we go. The grocery store, cutting down on daily coffee shop trips, or perhaps even refraining from doing some of the things we do to ease our minds, like a drive to the mountains, the coast or the near by man made pond. It seems even with lower gas prices, it is still expensive to get in your car. Unfortunately, it has been said that the economic conditions look to get worse before they get better. It seems that if you aren't effected yet, you will be soon. Even those who have had it easy for years. Even those who we think are unstoppable. Nobody is safe. Literally. 

I say this because right now I feel afraid. I feel that I might not be safe. Not from these economic pressures but because there are some people who are. Figures I look to. For safety. For entertainment. Ninjas can not flee even this fear. Ninjas aren't safe. If they can't protect me. Who can?

The ninja has weaknesses. Behind their protected identity, cat like reflexes and abilities to stay completely covered in black even during hot summer days, these secret assassins have vulnerabilities. They bought on credit. Times where good. Escalades. Three story houses with indoor oversized Ninja McPlaygrounds. They wanted it all. But now the bank wants it back. You can't run from creditors. 

Many have had problems in the past and it seems even our strongest, quickest and most stealth of heros can not out maneuver the closing of the financial walls. 

The hero who carried our nation on his back in the fight against outlaws and red belts. Our protector. The American Ninja. In 1985 he couldn't be stopped. He took on countless numbers of trained killers who practiced their skills at nearby NFL combines and training facilities. He flourished during the good times. His fight for years. Battling similar groups in similar titled movies. Where is he now? 

Calls from creditors? No. Rather issues with the law. The Karate Kid. He defeated the Cobra Kai. He made out in a shower costume. Unfortunately it hasn't lasted. Years later he was stopped in rural Alabama accused of a robbery turned homicide. Mediocre representation and only due to a fellow celebrity's knowledge of late model cars, the charges were dropped. Positraction saved him but who will save you? 

Who suffers more? Muscles from Brussels. The high of highs and suffering the low of lows this is that man. JCVD. The legend. Yet far from. Tears role over this man's aged yet still chiseled physique. Family issues and greater competition within the ninja industry, some with longer, darker ponytails. This hero is at sometimes brought to his knees by the pressures of life. Doing the splits is purely for fun. Nobody will pay for it any longer. Where does one look for help if we all look to you?

Quickness, agility, clothes that blend with darkness. Nothing can keep you safe. Nothing can keep them safe. We need help. They need help. If the pressures of this continued financial spiral fall further into the red I fear our safety is in jeopardy. Bipartisan agreements are needed to stimulate the economy. We need to come together for matters of our safety. We lose ninjas daily. To grocery stores. Bagging and checker ninjas. Pubs and Taverns. Bar-tending ninjas. Pizza restaurants. Pizza delivery ninjas. Mail transport. Bicycle delivery ninjas. 

We can't afford to lose any more!

 

The Bulb Toss

“Toys are an essential part of the creative process,”

she said, tossing the bulb to me.

I dropped it - it fell on the ground, ideas bouncing around out of

the sponge, and the hard part.

 

A work toy, its main purpose not for fun,

but to gather those ideas that come out

and turn them into money

that turns into houses

and cars

and diapers

and front yards with green grass

and fountains in the back

and grande hazelnut lattes

and guns to keep all that shit safe.

 

So I kicked the bulb away from me

Because I get paid.

But I keep the best ideas to myself

not to turn them into money

but instead, to turn them into the hidden art

of post-modern anonymity.

Disperse the Word.

Stories are told to whom ever will listen. Whether they are through the spoken word or told through a canvas and paint, a message is passed to those who have open ears or open eyes. 

"It may be a fire. Perhaps it is just a spark. Whatever be. It might just make you start..."

Last night I was lucky enough to experience some of the most original and expressive forms of art I have been exposed to in a long time.

Old friends and new friends, and friends of friends came together and showcased their own personal stories through mediums such as rhythmic sounds, collaborative rhymes, expressive art, and written words.  People were engaged in conversation created by the many exciting activities being performed on the multiple levels of this north boulder residence. Inside, above a basement full of people, paint, and beats that inspire one to pick up a mic, was a band of three that filled the room with rhythms that moved the bodies of the many filling the room. Soon those two sounds would come together and only inspired more to join in the sessions of poetic entertainment. The exciting vibe made you move even if it wasn't your intention. The music just filled the scene. 

If the joy upstairs wasn't enough, the basement of people, paint and hip hop beats, brought a magnetic dynamic to the event. 

A light blue wall soon became the victim of a flood of expression. Artists filled the wall with paint and drawings of different shapes and colors that covered the once empty blue and created a giant conversation piece that brought strangers together to discuss their thoughts and excitement. It truly was an experience. I met some of the most interesting people in a town that I know very few. I expect to have the pleasure of attending another of these events which hopes to carry a somewhat regular schedule. My thanks to the hosts and hostesses. I imagine my next experience will be just as rewarding. To me, a guy with limited artistic ability, being able to attend such a thing, was truly amazing.

Welcome to radminds.

crazy. creative. cool.

I had a dream last night. Well maybe a few. I am not quite sure how many. I never know what they mean. I have heard that they mean what you really want to do or have done in life. That's interesting. I would never have imagined doing some of the things that have happened in my dreams, in real life. Then again, dreaming i suppose is apart of your imagination, so I guess in a way, I did do it. Perhaps I am creative. In my sleep.

Why don't I ride bikes anymore? It's cold. I used to ride bikes all the time. Just don't have the want or will to get on the bike. I guess I am not bored enough to get on the bike. It is a shame. All the bike clothes you have to put for the cold and then the countless laps I would have to ride to get a descent ride in. Riding in this city is pointless. I wish I had some hills close from outside my door. It makes the experience more enjoyable. Does riding my 74' cruiser bike to the coffee shop count?

My coffee is cold. Gross. I drink a lot of coffee now. Well maybe not a lot, but more than I used to drink. I still don't drink that much coffee. I just noticed that the protective sleeve on my coffee say,"Caution HOT Beverage!" What if I didn't put the protective sleeve on the coffee?

I want to be really good at something. Like so good that when you think of something you think of a single person. I don't feel like it is as useful to be moderately good at a lot of things. Let's take a look at this. Most people, I would say, think that it is far more beneficial to be good at many things than being superb at just one. But being good at one thing makes it a lot easier to organize your thoughts and everyone remembers the person who is great.  I want to be great. Great at that one thing. I imagine that I could be a great pianist. I am not even a good pianist in real life. I don't own a piano nor have I ever but I believe the piano is my instrument. 

Am I dreaming? Like I said, I do a lot of really cool shit in my sleep.