Ho, ho, ho ... and all that rot
Well, we survived Xmas. Not a very happy one given the current economic reality around Chez Tripp, but at least it's over. All sorts of little stressors in play that I would prefer not to enumerate in detail here, but all building to a big bummer. Despite The Wife and I deciding that we couldn't afford to get each other anything, we both went out and did so anyway. I think it was a draw. I am deeply embarassed at the flood of gifts that came in from relatives (primarily for the Girls), which we were only able to reciprocate in a weak shadow. Nothing quite like making one feel like a sack of shit when everybody is doing for you 10x what you could possibly do for them! And, lord knows, I feel like a sack of shit. Got another dozen or so resumes out over last weekend, one of which for a gig that I would REALLY like to land. If you want to send good thoughts, white light, prayers, dark sacrifices, or whatever to me focus them on that (unless you have a real no-fail whammy up your sleeve, in which case work on my winning the $44 million currently in play in the Big Game lotto!).
Anyway ... here's another poem. I had half-dreamed a MUCH better one, but of course, the stuff composed in dreams just teases and almost never ends up on paper. Two more to go for 4,000 written over the past 26 years. Of course, the rest of them (well, back through the 4th quarter of 1996 at this point) are at http://i.am/btripp
POISON IN THEIR WORLD
so deeply in the lie
and systems built
of fantasies and force
hallucinations frozen
into doctrine, law,
paradigms of states
forever unwilling
to allow another stance
we stand amid this flow
not quite a rock
more like a log
brought down by storms
into the stream,
not a part there
but an obstruction
which eventually decays
we lose the words
which well in dreams
the better words
the truer words
the realer words
of inner states
with which we can not synch
and so are lost
but still the dream
stands apart
our dream and the world's
never the same,
what the mass believes
and holds as invariable
never echoes in our head
or shimmers in our heart
thus we are alien,
an infection unto them,
and all the systems
of that outer world
marshal to reject us;
what resources do we have
that would allow us to fight
and not simply be destroyed?
- Brendan Tripp
12/26/2001
Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp
Anyway ... here's another poem. I had half-dreamed a MUCH better one, but of course, the stuff composed in dreams just teases and almost never ends up on paper. Two more to go for 4,000 written over the past 26 years. Of course, the rest of them (well, back through the 4th quarter of 1996 at this point) are at http://i.am/btripp
POISON IN THEIR WORLD
so deeply in the lie
and systems built
of fantasies and force
hallucinations frozen
into doctrine, law,
paradigms of states
forever unwilling
to allow another stance
we stand amid this flow
not quite a rock
more like a log
brought down by storms
into the stream,
not a part there
but an obstruction
which eventually decays
we lose the words
which well in dreams
the better words
the truer words
the realer words
of inner states
with which we can not synch
and so are lost
but still the dream
stands apart
our dream and the world's
never the same,
what the mass believes
and holds as invariable
never echoes in our head
or shimmers in our heart
thus we are alien,
an infection unto them,
and all the systems
of that outer world
marshal to reject us;
what resources do we have
that would allow us to fight
and not simply be destroyed?
- Brendan Tripp
12/26/2001
Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp