I respect a fly’s imperturbability. When I swat one away from my food, he buzzes up to my face, and circles off, as if the bzzzzz of his wings is yelling directed at me for my rudeness. He then persists at my food. If I get mad and try to kill him, he will zig and zag me with cunning and speed, but he does not give up his cause.

A fly is always a “he” to me, not beautiful and dirty. Flies are old men who don’t take shit from young punks like me.

Unless I squash them, then they are just dead.


On the Upswing

It is funny how time happens. How we change and grow. And how we recede back to ourselves. I have been in and out of such strife lately, self-imposed mostly. My want for challenge meeting my actual challenges. I feel so lost at times, feel like I am dealing with too much, and pride myself in my ability to handle it. This must play a part, my vanity in this respect keeping me in a place I wish to get out of, but cannot make wise enough choices to do so. But slowly as I acknowledged where I am making these shortcomings I make small steps to get myself out of them. It is an ebb and flow, I was so low and now, where I am starting to do good and see a good path, I feel so high. I cannot look at it logically, I must see it as an out of my control way of the world. When I do I feel the lows instead of the highs, I wish I could take anti-depressants and stay on an even keel. But I cannot allow that. I worry that the great parts of life will be dulled. Right now I think I am about to get a new place to live, my own place for the first time since I have moved back home. I am surprisingly excited to start my next semester of school. I am getting comfortable in some relationships that I have been shy about, and most importantly I am feeling positive. I have been wanting to find some settled feeling, to be in a content place, but it has been elusive. Now I think I may find it, or some part of it. I know the ebb will come, I will always be drawn to more strife but if I have something stable to fall back on in that strife, I imagine it will be easier.

Thoughts on “The Bear” by Momaday

I can see him, walking slowly through the woods, calm, relaxed, slow and dumb. He sniffs the air, nibbles some berries, has a pace-ful walk. From first glance you see little of this creature, almost extinct, a relic of a courageous creature. He seems threatening only in his pure size, but his mind is dim and slow with age. But you are wrong, he is brown bear, all seeing all knowing. He, like our past Indian brothers and sisters, sees the demise of the world, of the way of life we live. He will fight when there is no other course but the wiser of us sees when the fight will incur too many damages. He walks the woods, rarely seen, in his own world, what little is left of it. He can still find a healthily fearful peace amid the hunters and their traps. More importantly he can still find peace amid the humans, encroaching upon the forest, soon to be gone if we are not careful. Soon he will be gone too.

Momaday writes this in a haiku, 5-7-5-7 for five stanzas. It’s melody has a consistent pace, slow and methodical, just like the bear. It focuses on the Jaws of the trap, which the bear has been bitten by, but is still alive. My favorite line by far is “pain slants his withers” you can see his shoulder blades trudging slightly crooked down the path, right leg a little ahead of left. You can see the fear in this bear, but he is still wiser than we realize, for he is still alive. The metaphor here is two-fold, I think the bear is a metaphor for Native Americans, almost wiped out from this world, but still there, growing, ninja in their movements. But I also think the bear’s possible death is a metaphor for the state of the environment. It is impossible to not see his likely extinction as a result of the killing we do to our mother earth. I would like you to picture the bear I painted above, or Momaday’s bear, and then put a man on a quad bike in the picture, either on his trail after him, or on a different trail with the bear observing the man from a distance. What is the bear thinking? What will it do? How does the contrast of the bear and the quad in the forest make you feel?

Brown bear

A Quick Essay on an Essay for a Class Essay

In N. Scott Momaday’s essay “The Man Made of Words” he says, “Do you see what happens when the imagination is superimposed upon a historical event? It becomes a story. The whole piece becomes more deeply invested with meaning.” (89) What Momaday means here is really quite complicated for us to contextualize. He is saying that the mere facts of history, though important, hold less value to us than they would if they had an emotional connection. When we add some imagination to a historical fact, we add some background frame work to it that lets us humanize it and relate it to more personal experiences.

His larger picture in the essay has to do with words and storytelling. “Language” he says, “is the element in which we think and dream and act.” (83) It is how we can communicate ourselves to the world. Momaday wants us to realize how much more of an impression a story can make on the world rather than plain historical facts. I find the meaning of this to be that we as human are truly invested in our emotional presence in the world. The facts of an event only hold value in that before them and after them there is a much larger story to be told. The death toll of WWII is only important in what more it can tell us. Why do we learn this information, these statistics? It is not taught to us so that we can write the number on paper and think no further on it. It is the story that is important, the dead people’s families, the wives they may have had back home, the children, the parents. What brought them to the war is important, the content of their character, the struggles in their life and the beauty. In the moment of their death, and the events leading up to it, what did they feel? These are the questions we are compelled to listen and learn from, although we learn historical facts it is as a means to know the story behind it all, and further than that to feel some emotion about those stories.

Momaday tells us the story of Arrow Maker, a story passed verbally down through history. Within the story are universal truths, and insights for listeners to make. His paper as a whole talks of Native beliefs on helpers in times of change and on our current need to connect back with the earth in our time of technological revolution. He talks of the stories of his people and the value that those words held. He makes clear that, as this quote outlines, when we use our imagination on the past, on a historical fact, we are able to see more and see deeper. We can pull out more meaning, and this is directly related to the emotional connection we feel to it. As he says, “Man achieves the fullest realization of his humanity in such an art and product of the imagination as literature.” (88) By literature he means storytelling. We are indeed in a time of change in this world and as we look at our history and the histories of others, we should keep a connection with the emotions of those histories and with the emotions within ourselves. We will find much more value and this way as opposed to solely facts.  

(I found the essay in the anthology Noting But the Truth, by John L Purdy)



Feeding off the fat of the Ausies.

What is this horrible place boss?

Buy some cheap shit Boss?

Transport Boss?

It’s a wooden hard cock Boss?

One for your keys Boss?

One for your girlfriend Boss?

One to make your friends laugh?

How about a bumper sticker that says, “Kyle is gay”?

Or this one that say, “I drive like a cunt”?

Just come inside Boss?

Cum inside Boss.

Very cheap Boss.

I’m not your boss.”

Will you give me your money?

Yes, maybe.”

Ok Boss.

How about you eat at a restaurant called Naughty or Wicked?

The food is five time more than the local food, but its ribs done just like at home.

You like ribs, right Boss?

Western food – Yay!


Fat beer bellies getting burned on the beach.

Disgusting thongs, men and women, and not flip-flops.

Loud drunken crowds.

Offensive to the local’s sense of acceptable public behavior.


But they are paying Boss.

Transport Boss?

Very cheap.

Massage? Asks a 13 year old with braces.

Just in case an old pervert is walking by.


Go get too much sun, too much food, beer, cheap shit.

Go out to the GO-GO bar and tell your wife you were just getting drunk.

You won’t buy the girl, just have a crack making sexual comments at her.

Oh hello Boss, come in my shop, special deal for you.

Please buy Master.

How much for this wooden cock?”

10 dollars master.

10! No thanks.”

Ok 5.

No, maybe later.”



3 cocks for a dollar, give your friends a cock Boss.


I’ll show it to some local girls!”

They will be disgusted and I’ll get half a boner!,”

And some stories to tell while getting drunk tonight!”

Yelling, “This fucking shop girl kept staring at my cock!”


Where you go Boss?

Transport Boss?

Surfboard Bro?

Massage Sir?


Can I talk you into a spontaneous tattoo?

This tribal is cool.

It’s Indonesian.

What about this cock?

Just like your keychain.

It’s very funny, Boss.

too much

I have had it

i’m overwhelmed with life

there are always challenges, I know, but

I need some easy time

boring is not easy (just so you know)

easy is when you understand your challenges

when you feel good about your achievement


are content with the strife

an even keel to difficult

Here i feel lost

too many competitive toughs

everyone trying to get their best on someone else instead

of doing their best.

Here I enjoy a relaxing day by myself

a whiskey-coke and a movie

i am worried about where I live and work

i’m worried about where i sleep

another is shitting but its not me

it’s just my bed

I will have to re-search

re-figure it out



lifeconstantly I redefine my thoughts on how old I am

always youthful, fun, alive, carefree

but trapped by the things in life I have yet to do

and feeling time pulling at me

saddened by the passing of the years

my bones ache

I am un-amused by childish actions

Grow up! I think, frowning in disapproval

and yet

I want nothing more than fun and free time

to do nothing for an entire day

to act the child and

to forget

I want a career

I want to finish school

but will school teach me what I want to know…

my mortality comes into question

it is just life, I say, live it and have fun

as if there will be more after this one

wait, this is it

it’s all I have so far as I know

when I die there is no more

I need to make the most of my time

I’m old now, a third of the way through my life

maybe half

maybe I’ll die tomorrow

time is fleeting

then I see how seriously others can take this world

I want nothing of theihttps://uponarival.wordpress.com/wp-admin/post-new.php?post_type=postr graveness

I still grasp at the innocence of childhood

the beauty in the unknowing

to hell with it

today I will burn a bible and watch Carl Sagan

I will learn Spanish

I will call in sick from work

I will “stay and play” and buy gumballs, and watch them spiral down a clear slide

I will drink bottles of wine and read Tortilla Flat by lamp light

vagabond for a day

making memories for fear than I will need them when I’m older



for weekly writing challenge