I never let me down,
that's why I deserve the crown.
If you can hear my voice,
know that my life wasn't a choice,
still I live and rejoice.
celebrate myself,
regulate my health,
mind my greatest wealth.
Literally an artist,
designs of being smartest,
Looking at Missy B,
Who else her son but me?
Never bowed to Christ,
maintained a lust for Life,
Scratch your head in confusion,
fighting off the lice.
Days of being a kid,
loved some butter and rice.
The secret to writing,
is to keep on writing,
keep on fighting,
like I have lightning,
in my shoes,
a reason I never lose,
when many lay to rest,
I am still making moves,
still searching for clues,
standing over all the rules,
making money by the two's
and threes.
Think you know me?
Please...
You think you own me?
Freeze.
I own me,
mind is never lonely,
so thoughts stay warm and cozy.
Life may not be easy,
yet I am me effortlessly,
a contradiction of terms,
embrace my flaws to learn,
for divine energy I yearn,
Idleness my only concern.
Recently in Quote Category
In response to the article on io.9.com, Is Science Fiction Humanism A Contradiction In Terms? I was compelled to use my 'me too sense' with a response that is a glaring, 'it depends':
This is a fantastic article and conversation. I do want to point out that the term Human may include more than our modern selves, typically any past version of the Homo genus. If that's the case, should it not include future versions? Homo Sapiens are Human but would their slightly advanced, stronger, versions,... Homo Geniens not also be Human--just better?
To lump all Science Fiction into one vein of thought would be a mistake as I think authors and creators are what determines whether the work supports or contradicts humanism, ultimately. But I would say the struggle to understand self (even when that self may not be a human because this quest is in fact--a very human trait!) then we're talking about humanism.
Though how that story is painted may shred notions of Humanism while others support it. I'd be surprised if anything in my work didn't ultimately tout Humanity as highly flawed and highly worthy of the quest that is Life. Highly Human! We do as we are.
- Where's this coming from? Deep within, feel like I want to run. Sink or swim. Who's it going to be? Me or him. When is it done? Before it begins.
- This is wonderful, sun rising like young lovers do, blissful thoughts are lyrical, shining like summers june, an arrival that's never too soon.
- Why not look to give her my all, drive me so crazy, about to climb a wall, lay her on my bed, we'll have a ball, neighbors angry hearing my name called.
- So vivid is the pain, so cleansing is the rain, as broad as the astral plain, dreams demand I do not refrain, screaming stop at nothing, and so I became.
- No rhyme no reason, doesn't have purpose, don't have time, search beyond surface, change every season, let meaning seep in, anything's believing in aspiring achieving.
- I still care, why I remain here, the answer in the question, buddha like lessons, where we going now, being is the how. Where we going? Now. Being is the how.
- Just for her, opening arms wide, heart beating so fast as I confide, feelings as true as love can be, wondering if I should ask her to marry me.
- Grids make me want to draw where control is an illusion like race except human so can never be sure that I agree with you unless you seek to dominate in that case I don't.
Copyrights were meant to protect a human's intellectual creation from theft,
which isn't quite the same as ownership.
Somehow we forgot this and are run amok,
with these false entities laying claim to the what humans build.
Corporations lawyer up and stake claims the world over,
seeking ownership of every notion and ideal and even the natural,
that belongs to the people.
When they themselves are ideals,
incorporation, creations of human ingenuity.
And I am sick of them laying claim to my legacy.
I am human and I will claim my destiny.
- Angels are flying so low, but no means no, I grab the cross bow, and i let the angel know, i'm not ready to go.
- After sitting in silence at the table for over an hour, we started packing. Nothing else could be said. No one wanted to work anymore.
- After acing all of those advanced technical exams, who'd ever think I would end up living in la la land.
- Everyone lies to themselves, mind as well do it on something you like. I'm not judging, it's just, you don't seem to enjoy go-go dancing.
- Only by stringing the tiniest moments together, can I ever experience its pleasure. this must be the key notion behind the pogo stick
- Father says we're made to upgrade our existence. It may take constant revision but I will be victorious.
- First thursday 2010: Discovered that love is forever. It lasts always, long after lovers leave. Love is my gift. It belongs to me.
- Eventually Futuregirl got her refund. So did millions of others who were promised '3D' but instead received jazzed up modes of 2D.
- I'm inclined to believe Futuregirl. I mean, she is from the future, after all. Put another way, would you follow 15 year old jesus or 33 year old jesus (more futuristic version)
- Writers. You may recognize them as the ones that always have to have the last word.
- Here comes the night shift-my back surges, neck broadens & fangs rip through my jaws. I scream, unleashing the terror. I am the darkness.
- If there's one certainty in the universe it's that someone's getting a good laugh out of life on Earth.
- sometimes your stride isn't enough. Your foot stretches and your shins burn. And the only option left is to run
- Blizzard of a day, I can't wait to write, aching to get inside like impending frostbite.
- I feel it in my heart beating a tune sublime. My life pulses with the force that makes stars shine. The glow is human. We are one of a kind.
- If you don't give your dreams wings, you'll never fly.
She was one for me. She wants not love, it's gravity she's after. Things that can be felt, but never touched. She wants the effects of the Sun and all the sciences. The radiation tingles her biology. Her heart begs for that chemistry and her pulse is all acceleration. She's thinking of physics now, dreaming about soul mates. Two forms of energy that were once, one. She was one for me. I grew to love her. Then she was no longer my general speed. Her body, scents of relativity. Perhaps she is the same as me but doesn't feel the pull. She's special.
-jaebi
Fiction Scientist
Until further notice,
I'll borrow your soul,
to paint these images.
I'll ravage your body,
to feed shallow intentions.
I'll degrade your character,
to serve the end I'm after.
I'll suspend your thoughts,
to sell goods I've wrought.
I'll drain your essence
and bask in your absence.
Love to watch you paint your face,
and show you believe in my case.
I can pay a salary with full benefits,
all I ask for is a child's innocence.
I'll inspire your culture with unique difference,
peace throughout the world, good riddance.
I know what you want is edgier television,
I'll remove the need for you to make a decision.
I'll trade you intimate privacy,
for power as far as my eyes see.
I'll make it seem silly for all to be healthy,
for the sake of keeping the economy wealthy.
There's life, there's death and then there's taxes,
sing my guarantee they belong in the same brackets.
I'll keep your schools safe from drugs,
and make sure that alcohol is in great supply,
if you allow me to make nicotine safe to buy.
I promise to give you something to love,
as long as you subject it to what you're afraid of.
I promise to make sure your dreams remain so,
shh, sleep, there's no where to go.
And for any and all who you show this,
I promise to give it all back, when you notice.
What shocking new evidence lies behind the charge that commercials are the real cause behind adult delinquency!
They say home is where the heart is.
I say that's where the gun lives.
Sometimes where the son lives.
Always where the sun is.
Home is the blue orb spins.
Home is one where all is.
All that matter that is.
All that matters, that is.
Home is origami folds.
Home is kamikaze rolls.
Home is bright hue rainbows.
Home is intercontinental ballistic missile shows,
schizophrenic jaebi flows.
Home is cold winter toes,
Home is revenge against foes.
Home is depth where no man goes,
death where all men go,
as sure as life that glows,
poetic rivers flow,
switch it across skin and scold the bold,
where whelps bathed in sin never mend.
Home is where I start this,
art embedded heart lives,
where the literary artist is,
me.
Yawning,
Good Morning!
In dreams we be touring,
so up-on wake I'm soaring,
your reality is boring,
american idol snoring,
like my remote on islands,
ever hear silence,
hovercraft over ground,
frowns upside down,
joy not in name but sound,
all who want gather around,
we all wear a crown,
I never let me down,
never say unless I'm down,
so ready to get down.
Here comes a rare break from the creation of ideas, which I save this space for, to something very different. My reflection of the creation of ideas. Maybe it's not so different but I promise, it's interesting.
Some parts of the novel I'm working on were written years ago. Years. Yet, during editing, where things are cut, swapped, deleted and finessed, I'll find myself adding what I don't remember is already there. Essentially, rewriting the scene as I envisioned it years ago. It's always a pleasant surprise, like 'oh great--it's already here.'
And yet, it's also a bit freaky, since, I can't remember what I had for breakfast a week ago. It almost feels like the story and the very narrative were given to me, rather than written by me. Is it cosmic plagiarism? Has some existential vehicle driven these ideas into the fabric of my being? WTF?
After all the whiskey I've drank, all the emails I sent and all the invites I've forgotten to accept over the years, how do I know that in a particular passage, I want to convey just how hungry the protagonist is by imagining the aroma beating against the walls of her stomach? It's a guarantee that I will leave my apartment without my keys at least one more time before the year is over, yet my mind is crystal clear on the lives of these characters and the world they live in.
There's something going on here. Im not smart enough to figure it out--i'm just a messenger, but I have questions and I want answers. Maybe it's being fed to me. Like an umbilical chord, funneling nutrients from Mother. Hmm. That's good imagery--I think i'll do something with that.
--fervor.
I long to be like you,
and I'm not grieving for you,
lie cold in the ground as you do,
don't want to feel anymore for you,
nothing real love can't undo,
there's room inside for more,
Melt away and leave us alone again
I'm a living metaphor,
blinding wall between us,
you are what I'm coming for.
-- Jaebi
Inspired by Evanescence, "Like you". Open Door.
May 3rd, 2009 : 11:34 pm
When will they learn, you can't see me from the outside, yes, precisely, never judge a book by her cover.
May 3rd, 2009 : 6:27 pm
Let mentality not be defined by reality, unfit, an undermining quality, but rather reality defined by mentality, dream, an omniscient totality.
April 30th, 2009 : 1:18 pm
You know you are a writer, when the genesis of thought and result of action, focus on embedding what's past, in the reality of the future.
April 30th, 2009 : 7:02 am
He left before even fully awake, the air stung his eyes, tears ran, stealing the joy of this day; morning
April 28th, 2009 : 12:54 am
the role of science fiction is to postulate a reality so that we become curious of such an eventuality, humans breed wonder into ingenuity.
April 24th, 2009 : 12:54 am
Alt-Tab-Sometimes its like you barely stopped working at all. Technically, you haven't, when the switch is from Facebook to Twitter. Learn
April 24th, 2009 : 12:24 am
His blackberry became the secret to his success. He knew that whenever he glanced at it, people assumed he was working.
April 23rd 2009 : 11:22 pm
What this planet needs is another space race. Nothing will excite wonder more than seeing a few of our people landing on Venus. Change.
April 22nd 2009 : 12:39 pm
Do you take me seriously, she asked? He found it somewhat comical, as he does with most things. The problem is that he loved most things.
April 21st 2009 : 9:23 pm
I coulda said head, makes sense with fed. Unless its Eral, they have a lot of rules, alphabet boys, we learn to follow in school.
April 21st, 2009 : 9:21 pm
She makes me feel alive,the opposite of dead,soul that's never fed,and I know it dont have to,but poems always rhyme whn spilld from my mind
April 21st, 2009 : 9:21 pm
I didn't suspect he was dying until he said, I got one regret today: that I didn't start getting high, ten hours earlier. Not tomorrow.
April 18th, 2009 : 12:55 pm
Brother forgive the brash. Blasphe-me in the delivery. People are the light, want for more right. Forsake whatever's left. In the mirror stares best. Praise human, god brews inem. Blasphe-me.
April 18th, 2009 : 11:06 am
Not fair when she's passive. first I turn me on thn I must turn her! Wht if I'm tired, dont wnt to move. Maybe do it in the dark? All this for a light switch.
April 17th, 2009 : 1:12 pm
The scissors closed, the strand of hair feathered to the floor. that should do it, he said. i took my last piece of human dna with me
April 16th, 2009 : 9:06 pm
his fingertips collided together like a row of dominoes again and again. the door opened, her eyes startled immediately. where were you?
April 16th, 2009 : 5:08 pm
and said:we can no longer afford to solely exist, if we want this nation to serve us, we must serve it & not lay hope in an elected class
April 16th, 2009 : 2:26 pm
It was cold, my fingers ached and I couldn't think straight. I watched her float from away from the wreckage in disbelief. I was on my own.
April 15th, 2009 : 7:13 pm
Seat searcher: a type of individual or state of being that stalks about until they find a place to sit or run out of room, whicheva's first.
April 13, 2009 : 10:08pm
an artist that uses words to paint on the canvas of reality.
Her body a canvas. When the brush was offered, I knew I was a painter. She became my art. I became her desire. The brush caressed. 'Nice to meet you.' i inspire.
Thinking, thinking, always thinking. Bliss is it to cease contemplating or concentrating on the times, or the blatant meaning between the lines, painstaking, fault, is it yours or mine. Thinking, always thinking on how to free the mind
