Not with a bang, but a whimper.

It’s weird being in the void between projects. This week I have no work, no school, no plans, and it’s either too hot to do much or it’s raining. I still wandered a bit, but the weather is spoiling some of the fun. The heat doesn’t bother me like it used to, but it still makes me tired. It’s hard to study or practice Kung Fu when I feel this drained. It started to cool down today, and more storms are coming. It’s still the middle of the summer though, but hopefully we’re over the worst of it.

Losing weight has a few weird side effects when it’s as drastic as mine was. I never used to get cold, but now I seem to get cold faster than a lot of people. I wonder if it has to do with the ratio of surface area of the skin to fat and muscle. The skin never really retracts like in the ads, that’s surgery. I also have trouble getting up sometimes, usually when I’ve been relaxing or sleeping. It’s like the blood pools in the body and a quick shift takes too much from the brain and I get dizzy. It never happens during Kung Fu though, no matter how fast I pop up, but then my heart rate is up, cycling the blood much faster.

I’m sure it can be fixed with surgery, but I was never really interested. It will never change what being fat made me into, and I actually like who I am now. I just wish I could get the pattern back that helped me lose so much in the first place. I don’t even really know what it was. It was almost like I had to trick myself, drinking less soda, moving more, changing to a more physical job, Kung Fu. Drop by drop. But I still love junk food, and I crave it the more stressed I am. I had been eating a lot of garbage while I was in school, letting go of my self-control in one section of my life so I could push through endless papers and research.

I thought it would be easier now that I’m done with school, like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. It’s not. There is less stress now, but it’s more like a slow drain than anything. I know I’ll get back into things, like before I went to school when I was in Kung Fu, surfing, running, working out, and practicing Spanish before I left home. For the moment though, I just want to burn out.

I understand the big graduation parties where people celebrate and try to drink enough to erase school from their minds. Something to mark the occasion, trying to avoid ending with a whimper. It doesn’t really matter though, and time moves onward. Take a moment to recover, to breathe, and to be.


The Hollow Men

T.S. Elliot
Mistah Kurtz-he dead
A penny for the Old Guy


We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar

Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us-if at all-not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men.


Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
In death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.

Let me be no nearer
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer-

Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom


This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.

Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are
Trembling with tenderness
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.


The eyes are not here
There are no eyes here
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms

In this last of meeting places
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

Sightless, unless
The eyes reappear
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose
Of death’s twilight kingdom
The hope only
Of empty men.


Here we go round the prickly pear
Prickly pear prickly pear
Here we go round the prickly pear
At five o’clock in the morning.

Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long

Between the desire
And the spasm
Between the potency
And the existence
Between the essence
And the descent
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom

For Thine is
Life is
For Thine is the

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.

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