Short Notes: I Like Living This Way, I Like Loving This Way

By Jose Vilson | December 20, 2009

Short Notes: I Like Living This Way, I Like Loving This Way

By Jose Vilson | December 20, 2009
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Michael Jackson
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A few links:

  • Clay Burell makes his triumphant return to blogging with this random yet well-prosed musing about where he’s been for the last … ever. [Beyond School]
  • Speaking of which, Clay pointed me to a great Seth Godin blog pointing out why you, yes you, need to stop complaining when you finally get a job that gets tough. [Seth Godin]
  • Yes, you heard right: James Chartrand … is a woman. Pointed criticism of the business blogosphere as it pertains to sexism and credibility. Zing. [Copyblogger]
  • Are teachers not professionals? That’s what Damian wants to know when he posted this little bit at his blog. [Apace of Change]

For some reason, these posts always have a thematic serendipity I couldn’t quite finger until tonight. The general theme of melding the personal and informative sing to me the way others probably can’t understand. While most of my actual reading comes in the form of reports, fact sheets, and newspapers (information-driven mediums), I gravitate to the great balance between the personal and informative. While I like having informational blogs, I often find that they regurgitate the same things I’ve read elsewhere. Then, at the other extreme, I find blogs that solely discuss the personal only graze the factual and don’t pack the punch necessary to cross the boundary from OK to good (or for that matter, great.)

Oh, and as promised, a poem:

Brisk evening
Unbuttoned collars
Sweat drops cross foreheads
Inebriated breeze pass noses
Wooden floors streaks with Corona and rubber sole streak
Birthday princesses and quasi-popular stars
Dimly lit lounge with citadel skyline views
Syncopated vibrations knock at each other’s ears
Some voices of family and friends
Others scream for their next taste of forgetfulness
My lips lock and embrace yours
Still  like deers watching automobiles close in
My right hand on your knee, enclosed with your left
Sitting
Danger
Soft, delicate, inevitable
The memory lasts longer than the contact itself
You left me awash with bubbles surfacing to the top of my once calm stomach
Time and space about 5 seconds displaced from my actions
Heart and blood throbs to the beat of our new theme song
Hours pass while my liver goes to work
In time I wake up
Apologize secretly
To the well-dressed man right above us as we partook in each other’s favor
The man who women stared at from all over the room right past me
The man whose rights to you I ignored
Then I caught myself lying
I’m not sorry.
He had to find out about us
The way I found out about her kissing
In passing.

Jose, who was in a giving mood today …


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