I am utterly consumed with school work right now. This is better than anything I can say anyways. Hang in there.

As you can see (and if you got my previous message with the pancake-bunny), there were some problems with my server. I’m trying to restore some of the older posts that just happen to have been backed up on my computer- hopefully I haven’t lost too many. Not to mention (if you can’t tell by the post below) I haven’t exactly been going through the best series of events lately.

Everything will be back to normal by Sunday hopefully. If so, I’ll get the new Picks up.

Romanticism vs Realism. Destiny vs Decision. Admitting your thoughts. Questioning your heart. Why is is so hard for us to do follow our hearts with our heads. Why is it always one way or the other? or neither. Is the mind of our our emotions not the same brain that powers our ability to analyze… calculate… decide. Or is it something else? These endless questions seem to painfully represent the answers to why in the end is doesn’t really matter. Reality setting in… suprise taking place… it’s all the same, and yet somehow I saw this coming.

She’ll convince herself it was my fault. But the fact of the matter is I try. I face the consequences of my decisions, even if it’s not going to be fun, pretty or ‘picturesque’ … I don’t justify my incapability of facing outcomes of my choices… and I sure as fucking hell don’t base excuses on heresay, half-guesses about what kind of person someone might be, or write it off as misunderstanding. Silence doesn’t lie, nor does time, distance, or space. The fact that you would even assume…

nevermind… fuck it. One less.

Yeah, right Jeff. Try: One more.

“Matter”

Jeff Wichman
January 20, 2006

Where do we end
this journey,
you and I.
Our spiral of a path.
Our ups, my downs.
These restless scratches
stain this path twice-traveled.
Were you not my partisan?
Did you not pick me up
onto broken legs
left standing
fighting for balance.
Were you not my rescue?
Did you not pull me top
from the current
left floating
in your wake…
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
It settles and foams,
leaving a trail to mark
the distance,
ever growing,
between you.
and I.

No matter.

These aberrations
a result, in part,
of your proposals.
While yet
your proposals
in part, a result,
of my aberrations.

No matter.

Blame as you desire
if it pushes you.
Justify this resign
by propulsion.
Rest-assured
inertia will take care of the rest,
as I rest in retrospect
for the rest
of my life.

No matter.

For I have no surplus of indifference
to burn through this solstice.
Rather, a shortfall of spirit
to travel your distance.
So roll your die
as I toss my coin,
and we’ll foster disclosure.
Put your faith in fate,
whatever that is.
As I’ll mine in this life,
wherever that is.

No matter.

This crutch of an answer
you convey,
lends weight to the jaded.
My void of a question
you neglect,
leaves space for solutions.

No matter.

Should our maps of decision
draw our paths near,
I shall take your hand
and light the way
down this sole fate.
For no Matter
My soul mate.