burgoynealexburgoyne

Daytime Neurosis OR Can’t I Get a Haircut Without a Chat? Also, I Did Not Get a Haircut

burgoynealexburgoyne — Sun, 03 Jun 2012 20:35:51 +0000

Sunny brainy waves
and I wish I wasn’t put
out: other people

I just don’t want to talk to
you, or you to me. No thanks.

In Case You’ve Forgotten

burgoynealexburgoyne — Sat, 02 Jun 2012 13:20:58 +0000

There is, in case you’ve forgotten, a GUEST SUBMISSIONS page so that YOU can submit your very own haiku (<- plural and singular, so you know).

Also, check out the Friend(‘)s page to see formerly submitted GUEST SUBMISSIONS.

Exciting content to come up soon. Get excited for the exciting content. EXCITE.

Breakfast With My Clementine OR Three For Me, the Rest For You

burgoynealexburgoyne — Fri, 01 Jun 2012 13:59:33 +0000

Smoothies are full of
love and good things, add PB
and you can add, please.

Toast: overcome with
grief, I burned you. Please forgive
me while I eat you.

I like coffee dark
and powerful and a bit
warm… or cold… or free…

No One Reads My Blagh

burgoynealexburgoyne — Thu, 31 May 2012 01:46:11 +0000

I think if you want
to be successful, you have
to think highly: self

Promotion of self,
high regard; no self-loathing
I: unsuccessful

Truth in Recreational Despair OR I Am Successful, Now What?

burgoynealexburgoyne — Sat, 26 May 2012 18:22:23 +0000

Sometimes you have to
break the monotony; MORE
syllable writing!

I’m finished with (“)things with things(“), both the piece and the concept. The piece is not good. You will never hear it. You may experience the concept.

Have you ever had a day that was free of dread? Even that I-don’t-want-to-oh-here-he-comes-gosh-I-hate-talking-to-people sort of dread?

I was thinking about being a child and remembering lying a lot. Fabricating myths about injuries or relatives or whathaveyou. I remember doing it and getting this huge rush of anxiety about being found out. I don’t think I really LIKED it but I was sort of addicted to it. I think I’m still addicted to it. It is AMAZING how much you can get done when you feel like your life will explode if you don’t. I think maybe if you’re lucky you develop the ability or a thick skin to both accomplish things and not almost blow your brain up with anxiety. Maybehopefully.

I like it when something overlaps something else and there’s the space in between (like a venn diagram!) and that space in between is sort of confused but can be REALLY awesome.

Then there’s this shrimp. Wtf…

Drinking is fun but
hangover’s are not. I think
one outweighs: other.

I passed my sort of culmination cumulative oral exams yesterday which sort of signifies the end of grad school. It has been a difficult (embarrassingly…) experience to talk about for some reason. Some things were good, some great, some dumb. Hooray for finishing what you start. Hooray for starting new things bigger and stronger. Hooray for being more aware today than I was yesterday of how little I know and how exciting it is to know that.

I wish I did half
of what I wish I did. That
I did what I wished.

Killing Me Softly

burgoynealexburgoyne — Fri, 25 May 2012 19:24:37 +0000

Sings well, has good style
So I came, listened awhile
Young, stranger: my eyes

Strum my pain: fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly

Flush: fever, scared: crowd
Reading my letters out loud
Wish: finish – kept on.

Strum my pain: fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly

White Walls for Aaron Quinn

burgoynealexburgoyne — Thu, 24 May 2012 13:22:52 +0000

I wrote this for a piece that Aaron Quinn wrote this summer. It was meant to be a sort of mumble in the context of a large ensemble. So when you read it, you should mumble it quietly to yourself. Like you’re talking to your collarbone.

White walls are bare only when you see them. If given a choice, I’m sure they would be full. The existence that they’ve choice up to this point, in the particular reality, are that they are bare. White walls are bare only when you see them. White walls are bear. White walls are rivers and moons colliding with no real evidence of choice. They are trees birthing ideas birthing peanut butter birthing reality. White walls are canvases for writing or for looking or for building an idea for building an idea for building an idea. White walls are bears in the heat and white in the cold and white walls are for building an idea for building an idea. A monumental moment mesmerizing moons and white walls and the truth from bare fiction or from bear fiction, which is always about things bears would never do but not what you would do bare. White walls represent repentance and repeal and white walls shine but not convincingly or upliftingly or lifting up. White walls lift up. I lift up white walls. I lift up. I breathe life up. I breathe live, up. Up, live I breathe. I breathe live, up. Up, up, up. I breathe live. I breathe live. I breathe, live up, live. I live. I live, live. I breathe live. I live up. I, up, live. I breathe live in white walls. I see white walls. I live in white walls. I breathe in white walls. I breathe, lifted up in white walls. White walls. White walls, up, live. White walls, I breathe in. I breathe in. I breathe in white walls. Breathe white walls up. Breathe up. Live up. Breathe up. Breath, up. Breath. Breath. Breath. White walls allow you to breathe. Take breaths. White walls are for an idea about an idea about an idea. Steps away from an idea for an idea. White walls are the in and out and the in and out and the in and out. They’re bare. White walls are bare only when you see them.

201 OR To 201 More

burgoynealexburgoyne — Sun, 20 May 2012 20:36:38 +0000

This post is number
two-hundred and one. I am
grateful people read.

Generally and I guess
specifically. I’m dumb.

Play For Why?

burgoynealexburgoyne — Sun, 20 May 2012 20:35:13 +0000

I have friends who claim
that we should make efforts to play
danceable music;

that art should fit in
so people like to listen
and pay for your time

Its hard to find what
i think. I’ve played gigs for cash
and no art-merit.

Aaron Quinn seems to
play everything so that he can
play anything. Win.

Hopefully This Isn’t Rectal in Origin

burgoynealexburgoyne — Thu, 17 May 2012 20:34:46 +0000

The road to success;
for me: a day off, two, three…
Time to rest my brain.