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the hippie (in chief)

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[27 Nov 2011|09:48am]
what is it what is it
a poem
is it a
written on a cold jet
I assume
the jet is cold it's

warm in my seat but this jet
a cold steel bullet

(are bullets
warm? they are
probably warm

in the air

usedta be
into science

coulda done that
instead of
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A poem about mathematicians [08 Nov 2011|06:27pm]

Paul Erdos
by me, Chase G

some numbers, pure, exact
hover between the Holocaust
and cool tables of Harvard rooms,

table tennis players,
grad students,
their spouses.

Celibate saint of published papers
and silk shirts,
what do we do

what do we do
when the world
spills over
our equations?
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[06 Oct 2011|11:47pm]
Wrote a song, it's called "Bragging Song"

Now that we’re young we will
Swoop round in circles and
Scrape up our knees like we’re trying to grate ourselves
I’m not afraid to get
Scraped up or broken I’m
Strong like the sidewalk
Like tin cans and snail shells
Swear again, swear like high autumn
Swear like a sailor
Swear to me
Swear again, swear what a kid I was
Swear for a better cause
Swear for nothing
I am a monster who’s
Fierce and frenetic I
Can’t quite explain
Why I tremble and foam and sing
I’m not afraid to get
Into the thick of it
And I want a coffee and
I want your body I
And If I were a drug
My love
I’d be nicotine
Spark near your mouth
I will sneak through the in-between
Sharp and seductive I’ll
Burn who I touch and like
Anything else
You’ll die from too much of me

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I wrote a song [09 Jul 2011|09:15am]
here are the lyrics to my new song

I decided to give it a shot
Sitting on the porch I thought, why not
Can I make a song from progressions in my head
Hey at least at least its not regression
Or at least that’s what I said

But I recently read a book
That said Orpheus was better to take the backward look
How could you call it failure when he turned his head
Maybe love’s successive failures, that’s the lesson I read

I don’t know if that’s the case
But I love that he turned around
I’ll keep playing my guitar
It’s Euidice’s sound
If Orpheus heard strumming
Maybe he’d have been reassured
Though I feel like I’m Orpheus
And you are her
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[15 May 2011|03:58pm]
if i give up all my addictions
what the fuck will i do every day
if i separate fact from conviction
how the fuck will i learn how to play
how the fuck am i supposed to survive
when i know that i'm always alive
if i give up all my addictions
what the fuck will i do everyday

if i set myself free like I have done
and i put all my cravings aside
there are things to be gained from the gesture
there is courage and hardness and pride
but there's still things i crave in the meantime
while im learning to fend for myself
if i give up all my addictions
i will put all the pain on the shelf

if i give up all my addictions
all the bad shit that gets in my way
i can practice my words and my diction
i can find several smart things to say
if i give up all my addictions
maybe i can live on my own
and then people will happen to me
and i will feel happy and grown
i can play without needing attention
i can write without needing a grade
i am taking a brief intervention
i am staging a cheap crusade

if i give up all my addicitons
what the fuck will i do everyday
how the fuck will i learn how to live
i am trying to cut the way
what the fuck will i do everyday
what the fuck will i even say
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[08 May 2011|09:21pm]
I am so sick of people who don't give a shit
Give a shit, people
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[25 Apr 2011|09:48pm]
I talked about bullying today with my therapist. I am very tired. In therapy we talked about a certain type of bullying where you are the butt of a joke of insincere friendship. So that you’re afraid all the time of being laughed at and being lied to, and simultaneously. Not taken seriously. I’m very tired I must just be tired I’m just tired, right, I’m just tired. I am physically and emotionally drained today. I really need to talk to someone and I’m very very tired. You should just go to sleep, Chasey. Please just try to go to sleep.

First I want to write some thoughts on pain, which I think are very interesting and probably correct, and which I thought about today. Today i have a big pain in my tailbone area and it's making me feel physically pretty hurty, but the feeling of being grumpy and bitchy is a very different feeling than what I consider the unhealthy feelings I'm learning to find ways of dealing with, those that are on their way out because I am dealing with them effectively.

Emotional pain and physical pain are different. Or, I’m going to clarify that. Emotional physical pain and physical physical pain feel different and are not separable from one another, though they are located in different parts of the body. Emotional pain is located in the top half of me, the chest cavity – the worst kind of emotional pain is when you truly feel it to be a cavity. Emotional pain is like a gutting out while physical pain – pain that comes physical first and then emotion later – is like needles in. Being stuck in. Emotional pain, pain that is emotional first and physical later, is like nausea, casting out, abjecting, also getting the wind knocked out of you, it is that sensation. Physical pain is splinters, emotional pain is splintering. Emotional pain feels also like tangling up dark physical nets in a space, an abyss, a nothingness inside, dark black hole or a funnel or anxiety which is more like chemicals or electricity. Physical pain can feel like electric shock, too, and I guess the two are similar in this way. Panic can feel like your heart is being shocked with an electric rod, or tazed. Panic attacks feel like that. Those are emotional but also physical. Physical pain is much better for me but it sometimes can lead to emotional pain. Physical pain you can see the problem and it has a root and even if it doesn’t have an immediate solution there is a clear cause or at least a locus of pain that is connected to the cause of the pain. If the pain is in your brain but you feel it in your chest, or in your kidneys or stomach or small intestine, then it is scarier. If you feel pain in your arms because of your brain you have emotional pain. Physical pain is when you have a boil on your butt and you feel pain in your butt. And it feels like there is a large splinter of wood in your butt. It is simpler though and you feel like it will end. Today feeling the physical pain I felt like it would end and I felt the difference between that experience, and the experience of being grumpy, and the experience I had a while ago and maybe now of being sad. Well, not at all to the degree now, not at all at all, maybe just tired sad right now, I do not think I am where I was at the beginning of April where I am now, I am much better now. I need to sleep. I will read until I pass out and then I will go to sleep and dream and things will be better when I wake up in the morning I love you I love everyone.
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[12 Mar 2011|05:55pm]
I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know
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Poem [21 Feb 2011|02:05pm]
 I wrote a lai.

by me, Chase G

Nicotine teases
Fixes and squeezes
Addict appeases
Between the wheezes

Am I addicted
As is depicted
Or, more afflicted,
Craving, constricted
Those ticks?

Is the transmission
To my cognition
Hot shit?
Is repetition
Pattern, conviction
More it?
First inhibition
Then sweet submission:
Match lit
Least my position's
Known each ignition
Can't quit.
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LOUD NOISES [10 Feb 2011|08:25pm]
Today I felt a little down, so I dressed all in black and wore a leather jacket. I blasted punk music and queer music and punk queer music and stomped around my apartment. I was a badass all day. It felt pretty great. But now I feel kind of bad like before. So I don't know.

Then I did my show about punk rock. Then I was here. Then I was a still feeling icky.

I am going to keep being a radical and being joyful-as-radical, angry-as-radical. These are useful emotions.

I want to light something on fire or smash dishes and listen to more punk rock.
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[06 Feb 2011|10:52am]
Be Near Me
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
translated by Naomi Lazard

Be near me now,
My tormenter, my love, be near me—
At this hour when night comes down,
When, having drunk from the gash of sunset, darkness comes
With the balm of musk in its hands, its diamond lancets,
When it comes with cries of lamentation,
with laughter with songs;
Its blue-gray anklets of pain clinking with every step.
At this hour when hearts, deep in their hiding places,
Have begun to hope once more, when they start their vigil
For hands still enfolded in sleeves;
When wine being poured makes the sound
of inconsolable children
who, though you try with all your heart,
cannot be soothed.
When whatever you want to do cannot be done,
When nothing is of any use;
—At this hour when night comes down,
When night comes, dragging its long face,
dressed in mourning,
Be with me,
My tormenter, my love, be near me.
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[09 Jan 2011|12:06pm]
I feel better. More optimistic.
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[31 Dec 2010|06:51pm]
Hi, livejournal. I guess you're where I put things I don't want on Twitter. I feel shitty. Again. I'm really getting angry about feeling so shitty all the time when to me it seems preventable. I am sick of feeling angry but that doesn't mean I'm not angry.

Anyway that's all.

Maybe I'll do one of those New Year's quizzes and it'll make me feel better.

2010 was a bipolar year. Most life-changing, and one of the hardest. Thanks for the ride, year!

Also good riddance.
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Something [07 Dec 2010|06:07pm]
 I like this poem.



I go down to the edge of the sea.
How everything shines in the morning light!
The cusp of the whelk,
the broken cupboard of the clam,
the opened, blue mussels,
moon snails, pale pink and barnacle scarred
and nothing at all whole or shut, but tattered, split,
dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture gone.
It's like a schoolhouse
of little words,
thousands of words.
First you figure out what each one means by itself,
the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop
full of moonlight.

Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.
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[30 Sep 2010|01:27pm]
I don't think I'll ever have kids. I'm starting to think it's a very cruel thing to do to someone to force them into a body and consciousness, to teach them words, to remove them forever from what really is and substitute an erotics of words and symbols.


do the dead miss language
do they miss bodies
like i miss being speechless
like i miss not being alive
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[09 Sep 2010|02:45pm]
Starting to suspect that I still retain a slightly embarrassing streak of hippie. Eh, so it goes I guess.

I take a little pride in it, I think.
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[12 Aug 2010|07:34pm]
My adrenal glands hurt.
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BRAGGING [15 Jul 2010|11:51pm]




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[28 May 2010|04:11am]
reading your letters

in theory
they are
for me

i gaze
at my name
and address

long enough
to convince

it only
a little

i still think
i made
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[18 May 2010|01:57am]

1:23:27 AM Madeline: yeah this reminds me of french camp
1:23:40 AM Madeline: when there were these two girls in my cabin who like, never got to see each other except at camp
1:23:45 AM Madeline: they got in a huge fight
1:24:41 AM Chase: OH NO that must have been not fun
1:24:43 AM Chase: to mediate
1:25:56 AM Chase: did you have to sort out the DRAMA
1:31:18 AM Madeline: i had been working the kitchen shift so wasn't aware of this
1:31:18 AM Madeline: and i ended up taking three girls to clean the bathroom
1:31:18 AM Madeline: 2 of them were them
1:31:19 AM Madeline: they were both crying within 5 minutes
1:31:21 AM Madeline: i was so exhausted that day too
1:31:55 AM Chase: were you like WHAT THE WHAT GUYS
1:32:25 AM Chase: (*why chase would probably be a bad counselor in a camp with girls)
1:32:32 AM Madeline: nope
1:32:36 AM Madeline: no i was not
1:32:41 AM Chase: hahahahaa
1:32:44 AM Madeline: i think i sort of talked to them individually off to the side a bit
1:32:49 AM Madeline: but they worked it out
1:32:56 AM Chase: cool
1:32:55 AM Madeline: in their "imaginary language"
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