tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61786772012-01-21T17:49:29.673-05:00mmmm, that's good hipstermicahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.comBlogger171100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1112370950532833662005-04-01T10:48:00.000-05:002005-04-01T10:55:50.533-05:00

This is my bus, bus 21. bouncing jostling from place st. michel to louvre-rivoli. this is my bus. a crying child a laughing nun. in a world of six billion souls everyone looks like someone else. the man im facing looks like an actor i love (you know, from that one movie) only older and more beautiful. i cant help but stare; i cant help but look away. after 2 stops he is gone but the man

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1112370469474153142005-04-01T10:46:00.000-05:002005-04-01T10:56:57.413-05:00

2 dozen young men in kilts and polo shirts with numbers on the back march past chanting in english. "what do you think of that?" "there is nothing to think."

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1112110760314934862005-03-29T10:26:00.000-05:002005-03-29T10:39:20.316-05:00

definitely here, finally. weve had a couple of warm days but after each i expected to wake up to cold and rain, even more snow. but today as i rounded the corner leaving rousseau i was hit by a breeze that carried only good news. i let it billow through my jacket and then i realized: this is the first warm breeze ive felt in months. so now it is officially spring. springtime in paris, and

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1110464651427812222005-03-10T09:08:00.000-05:002005-03-10T09:24:11.430-05:00

Yet another churchbell sounds melancholy through the Jardin du Luxembourg. Pelousse interdit, bien sur, not that there is much pelousse to protect in the first place. just an endless field of sand and mud. The french and their fucking fondness for square trees. Just straight lines and boring statues of long-dead inbred nobility. a gray mind sky overhead and sweaty armpits below. what were

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1109262703948476142005-02-24T11:20:00.000-05:002005-03-10T09:08:19.913-05:00

Notre Dame i see you. starting from the very center. look up and i see you. facade scrubbed cleanof the grime of the past. soaring, tentatively, only to hesitate and fail at the final moment. never grasping merely reaching. only from within do the vaults scrape infinity. The air hums with the buzz of countless pilgrims secular and devout subdued by the dim glow of struggle and achievment.

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1109261982742856792005-02-24T11:13:00.000-05:002005-02-24T11:19:42.743-05:00

Finally. paris. writing a dream. overwhelmed by perparations and travel at least 2 weeks pass without writing. but here...now. a parisienne window. long perfect legs and caderas excitante. am i really here? electric heater forty watt bulb. she turns and settles. silence rolls up crashing from the streets steeped in history. do i belong? a living breathing icon here...now. ragged soles

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1105494605842056872005-01-11T20:30:00.000-05:002005-01-11T20:50:05.843-05:00

So I've been kicking around the house here thinking of writing but really being too afraid to start. Finally I realized that if I am going to begin, I must start. The house is quiet. The furnace hums the cat prowls. earlier in a cloud of incense and tea the great questions were fielded by an in trepid band of artesians, like the well. Artesians drawing deep for purity, for sustenance. A few

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1101533820256551792004-11-27T01:33:00.000-05:002004-11-27T00:37:00.256-05:00

man ray mray crystal tears and chess sets revolving doors. what can a man do but keep on keeping on. where are they all going? in their cars on the freeway endlessly moving. i cant relate anymore. adrift.

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1101019376927990622004-11-21T01:03:00.000-05:002004-11-21T01:42:56.926-05:00

i obviously dont update much. but i have a feeling that will change. i am graduating from college. it has taken a long time and much of it i have not enjoyed. and i am surprised to find myself with just a little fear. and, i suppose that is a good way to feel. i have always been opposed to the notion somehow that somehow college isnt real life. as in "now youre going out in the real world"

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1073639442343636612004-04-28T02:19:00.000-04:002004-04-28T02:19:01.000-04:00

Submission. dominence. i give in i rage against i stand up and take it like a man. i cop out i i give up i fight back i fight on i step off. but she looks at me and the world grows still. true submission all thoughts bend to her. a smack in the face a whispered demand. a meek and joyous christ i suffer the lash but then she wavers, i sense a crack and i rise up like spartacus against the chains

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1073539143213523852004-04-28T02:18:00.000-04:002004-04-28T02:34:53.686-04:00

I once upon a time thought that an empty page was an intimidating thing. but tonight i sit down, provoked by the urgings of loved ones and that that an infinity of space awaits me. Void beckons creation. I found myself at the greyhound station near the cannery. a ticket was in one hand. ingrid the other. one of them would be riding the bus with me. we made the typical scene. many kisses

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1070956930441583792003-12-09T03:02:00.000-05:002003-12-09T03:11:07.096-05:00

hipster is joy hipster is passion hipster is active shh hipster is resting hipster is love hipster is crazy hipster is a loner damn, hipster is at a party without me dig it dig it dig it dig it dig it dig it dig it dig it

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1070930493825566722003-12-08T19:41:00.000-05:002003-12-08T19:41:45.503-05:00

I cant stop this feeling, deep inside of me

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1070858704211703552003-12-07T23:45:00.000-05:002004-04-28T02:20:22.950-04:00

I love ingrid anne, let that be written in heaven's unchangeable heart....Let that be written in heaven's unchangeable heart. I stole that one from jack. Ive used it before and it is all true. Let it be written next to all the other names i've sent heavenward in the past. let it be written next to the names of all those i will love in the future. Heaven's heart is unchangeable and so is mine. i

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1070851065490898442003-12-07T21:37:00.000-05:002004-04-28T02:46:47.420-04:00

What would life be like if miles and the trane had never played together? if bird had never met diz? of course now im listening to the melodious thelonious who is as impenetrably beautiful as the horizon. i think dante's vision of hell missed a vital component of sin. the irresistable seductivity of temptation (temptation...tem p tay shun...temmmmp tay...shun). in hell the fire beckons like a

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1070850609024744432003-12-07T21:30:00.000-05:002003-12-07T21:30:20.573-05:00

I plan on writing. You may read if you choose, but don't confuse my site with those that contain poems about kittens or the utter loneliness of being. These words are neither meant to be read nor are they to remain a secret. The web's sheer size allows me to hide this in the open and therefore feed my vanity while simultaneously protecting my ego. Furthermore this site is neither truth nor

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6178677.post-1070850310287362052003-12-07T21:25:00.000-05:002003-12-07T21:25:21.890-05:00

And thus it begins...

micahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06495206660742699242noreply@blogger.com