| In Transit
A bus station in Everett where a hundred pre school children flood through the doors like an unkept river. I’m watching soon to be mothers conditioning themselves, bouncing babies on their knees and smiling deep. It’s comforting.
There’s a draft that sweeps in every now and then and it’s bitter because it’s June and still raining. Spectators snap pictures from wooden benches and a good Samaritan passes out Ritz crackers into the crowd.
I guess I use this exposition as a delay, perhaps an overture, to what’s really on my mind.
I wonder awkwardly criss cross on a stiff wooden bench with no back where I’m headed and I tell myself Wenatchee. I ask myself again, I pound the question flat like an anvil slam, real contemplative, I say: Nic, where are you going? And all that responds is that dull clang.
Sometimes I want to be swept back to that point in my life where good Samaritan’s handed me Ritz crackers and mothers in training bounced me on their knees and the world ain’t a question anymore of where are you headed but where you are. Always, all those eyeballs glazed with a satisfied glaze of wonderment, the world a new place anytime you look at it different. Sometimes it feels better to ignore that nagging incestuous displacement, that changing course and shift in the sails. Feeling the world shift;
In Transit. | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment   |
| In my SunDreams
In my sun dreams there is baseball on a lawn
And the war is over and complete peace on earth,
There is no discrimination and only human goodness,
And I don’t roll my eyes at any of it, either.
In my sundreams everything I write is perfect.
I reach into the garbage can and extract the tattered
Manuscript of truth, preach it real convincing with my fist
Slams on the podium, and everyone believes me.
In my Sundreams I meet a girl who is real pretty
And real smart, and we both feel real deserving of
Each other, and I don’t feel like bursting out
Laughing, When I tell her that I love her.
In my sunDReams I’m on a beach in Lisbon,
And I’ve never even been to Lisbon, but I feel the
Sand beneath me feet and the seabreeze on my face;
The knock knock of the cerebral cane against my skull.
In my SunDreams there are an infinite amount of
Reasons to love life and live it, and the trouble
Isn’t in finding one in particular,
But in looking backwards through the mirror
And finding yourself. | | comments: 4 comments or Leave a comment |
| I'm not deep.
formulaicsentencestructuresandacondescendingtonethatgoesblahblahblabhalahbalahbal
whycanteverythingieverwriteeverbemuddledandconfused
whyismetryingtobewittymetryingtooutsmartyou.isthatwit?
assholery.
whycantiwriteanymorewithoutreadingitandholdingbackmygagreflex
iamarticulatelybulemic.
whycantwritingbesatisfying.ifeelatendswithmyselfandmycreativity.ifeellikeimkickingmyselfintheheadoverandoverandoversothatmaybeafewideaswillfallout.
whycantijustgobackintothewoods(itstoocold)andwritesongsaboutbirdsandsingsongsaboutbirdsandwatchbirdsandsmileatthemandsay'hello bird, my name is nic'andtheywouldgosquaksquaksquaksquakchirpandiwillrecordthemwithamicrophoneandtheywillbefamousandiwillsay'now birds you are famous'andtheywillsay
(learn how to fucking write you amatuer). | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| Art (Literature, Music, Paint, etc.) is throwing a rock into a pond.
Circumference of the ripple. Height of splash.
Example: Ulysses. Pushing a boulder in.
Ulysses circumference. Look up Modernism in any textbook and you are looking up plot dynamics of the book itself. Fragmentation, unreliable narrators, stream of consciousness, etc. Splash. Banned in America, considered lewd and tasteless by many. Genius by everyone else.
Thought of that today.
amiriteoramirite? | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| Wrote this about a week ago.
Reading too much Joyce makes word puzzles.
And Merry Christmas. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| So Ulysses just turned into a 200 page play. It's all drunken absinthe hallucinations. Bad trip, man.
I am ?????????
Also, Three A- and a B. Good job, Nic. | | comments: 6 comments or Leave a comment |
| My Favorite CDs List of 2007 Okay
10. Pitchforkmedia.com
9. Pitchforkmedia.com
8. Pitchforkmedia.com
7. Pitchforkmedia.com
6. Obscure local band
5. Pitchforkmedia.com
4. Pitchforkmedia.com
3. Obscurer Obscure
2. Pitchforkmedia.com
1. You've never heard of this band before
I have no soul.
edit: But really, it's true :( | | comments: 6 comments or Leave a comment |
| Done with fall quarter. Good grades good good good.
New classes next quarter:
ENG 238 Society/Lit:Postmodern America
ENG 282 Intro to Global Lits:Medieval
MUS 230 Intro to Electroacoustic Music
SOC 251 Sociology of Deviant Behavior
17 Credits o good good goodness.
Want to switch into Fairhaven interdisciplinary program and study Journalism. Want to be a rock n' roll writer right okay.
Weird to be dating someone again. Different mindset. Exhilarating and I can't wait wait good okay.
Stuck in Wenatchee until the 27th then homeagainhomeagain to Seattle so let's hang out there all of you okay okay.O. readingggg too much Ulysses makes me talk like an Irish imbicileosapian without thinking don't stop typing pour the consciousness like a dull river onto page how does Joyce do this for 800 pages Oh God the genius the snotty Bard. Homer rolls in the grave and the Bard drinks absinthe and orgy orgy orgy what the christ this book makes my head spin.
OMPHALOS
God's Navel.
pz | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| I have nothing new or interesting to say means a lot has happened recently but I really have no motivation to talk about it. I want to go back to schoooooooool and stop skipping classes okay?
Greyhound tomorrow means a lot of smelly people and at least one who I probably think is going to kill me.
I need to finish Moby Dick so I can start a new book. Too bad I am only a third of the way through. I just read seven pages about a crows nest.
Is any of this interesting enough? | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| | This journal is sort of like a rat tail. It looks really stupid and awful but I've spent so much time growing it then why the fuck not I'll keep it around. | | comments: 7 comments or Leave a comment |
| Okay so I'm about halfway done with an EP I've been working on for a few weeks called BirdbrdBERD. There are three songs and they are all about birds and I should finish it in about another week. But until then, here is the last song from it that is called BERD. I recorded it in the stairwell of my dorm and Joey plays bass.
http://www.myspace.com/nicbrodine
Listen.
Oh and I'm going to be in Seattle this weekend so give me a ringadingading if you want to hang out. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| This whole writing 2,000 words a day thing is really cool...though I feel like it is only perpetuating my eventual descent into insanity. For example, I keep using words like 'Lets' and 'Us' and 'Allow US to' when guess what: I am probably the only person that will ever read most of these ramblings.
Jazz helps writing a lot and also: why do we use words to mean what we don't mean them to say, or sometimes half of what they mean themselves to mean. Oh rly? For example: "Sex with you was meaningless." No it wasn't, it was for the most part enjoyable (at the time) and we still are thinking about it. We didn't forget about it. It means something in that it is meaningless. Or: "Life is meaningless."
So kill yourself.
I only meant about half of what I was meaning to say here. Can you dig? | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Fourtet - Hands | | Time: | 11:56 pm |
|
| Saw Mike Preuss play at an art gallery today which was pretty cool. Saw a really good bluegrass band at the coffeehouse. Met some cool musicians at open mic night. Mike gave me some dude's number that supposedly books a lot of shows. Tomorrow I am playing two of my songs for one of my classes. I'm talking to the dude that runs the underground concert series at the coffeehouse. It's so exhilarating to be surrounded with so much opportunity. Academically, socially, musically. I feel like I'm slowly becoming more and more comfortable when it comes to reaching out to people in these areas.
I hadn't gone to a show in so long until I came up here and now I've been to like four in the last two weeks. I love it. I love it up here a lot. | | comments: 5 comments or Leave a comment |
| A lot of old thoughts in my head. A lot of new songs in my fingers.
How things work. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| The other day I climbed a water tower and looked out over Bellingham Bay. You could see your breath and I was freezing cold. I hate heights. I hate looking down a long ladder and thinking you could let go so easily and fall backwards 60 feet. At the top I was a little shook up, and when I sat down on the concrete I couldn't stop thinking about how cold I was. The view was incredible. I probably wouldn't have climbed back at home.
It comes back to me a lot like some drugged flashback. My hands trembling on the cold metal. Small gasps of smoke. And then sitting criss cross, with a cigarette, looking for city lights. Listening for a freeway.
I feel like that's been college so far. Sometimes it's all 'Don't look downdon'tlookdownDon'tlook Down' and the rest, eyes glazed in adrenaline, is a view.
(I'm very grateful to be here and this weekend was pretty rad with lots of walking and lots of drunk and now I'm going to go finish homework.) | | comments: 9 comments or Leave a comment |
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