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A Would-Be Poem

Posted on October 2, 2003February 25, 2022 by KZ

I’ve been using the same blog description from the very start: “Another would-be poet lost amid a sea of numbers.” When I first came up with it, I was still a junior accounting major who would have preferred to have majored in English instead. But being the son of Asian parents, I felt compelled to…

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Tomorrow Will Be Too Late

Posted on September 30, 2003February 25, 2022 by KZ

On feeding days, whenever I throw in the usual portion of five crickets into my salamander tank, those apathetic amphibians of mine take their sweet time going after them. I guess when you’re adapted to hunting for food, having dinner provided every few days can get really old. Anyway, as a consequence of my pets’…

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Proud to Be My Father’s Son

Posted on September 20, 2003February 25, 2022 by KZ

My Father: Who wants five hundred dollars? My Mother: Me. My Father: (holds up a Taiwanese 500 dollar bill) Divide it by 34. My Mother: (smacks my father) Sure, I had to wake up before noon today, but witnessing that exchange more than made up for it.

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In Conversation with an Old Flame

Posted on September 16, 2003February 25, 2022 by KZ

“I hate men. I hate relationships. By their very design, you aren’t allowed to be happy in one.” I said nothing. “Tell me you’re single right now.” “I’m single right now.” “Tell me you would fall in love with me if I lived up north.” “It’s a distinct possibility.” “This isn’t an honesty question you…

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Two Years Later

Posted on September 11, 2003February 25, 2022 by KZ

One thing that especially moved me on September 11, 2001 was the fact that a good deal of interview footage that aired on television that day went uncensored. I remember staying awake until 3 AM that night, watching the towers collapse from every angle, and hearing what New Yorkers had to say about the attack…

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Toilet Politics

Posted on September 8, 2003February 25, 2022 by KZ

As I understand it, the unspoken rule mandates that handicapped stalls in public restrooms are off-limits so long as there are other stalls available. The rule makes sense, since you never know when a “differently abled” individual will enter the joint looking for a good place to tinkle. Sometimes, though, all the stalls are taken…

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Defining Moments of My Friday Night Out

Posted on September 6, 2003February 25, 2022 by KZ

9:00pm: Isaac takes me aside the moment we arrive at The Blue Tattoo and orders us two Alizé and tonics and two Coronas. Being the whipping boys of the night, we toast to “designated drivers” and drink up. 10:12pm: Mel is good and liquored up by this time, and he starts in with all his…

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Occupying An Idle Mind

Posted on August 30, 2003February 25, 2022 by KZ

It’s 5:53 in the morning, and I’m driving a car-full of my drunk friends home. Upon Carlos’ earlier insistence, Pink Floyd is blaring over the speakers. After twenty minutes of being on the road, I suddenly get the feeling that I’m the only one who’s still digging the music. I look to my right and…

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Blasphemy Revisited

Posted on August 29, 2003February 25, 2022 by KZ

What’s all this crap we’re hearing about Alabama? In a largely symbolic gesture, some courthouse in Alabama was ordered by US federal courts to remove a tall, granite monument of the Ten Commandments from the lobby. Predictably, this pissed off plenty of Christians, who have resolved to set things right and to get that TWO…

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A Farewell to Decency

Posted on August 26, 2003February 25, 2022 by KZ

Filipe: This friend of mine claimed he liked Hemingway best because “he could take any other author to the cleaners” Filipe: he meant physically Filipe: This guy is very pretentious, and he never, ever swears. He thinks its below him. But I did hear him say once that “Hemingway could kick Steinbeck’s ass in a…

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Somehow, irresistibly, the prime thing was: nothing mattered. Life in the end seemed a prank of such size you could only stand off at this end of the corridor to note its meaningless length and its quite unnecessary height, a mountain built to such ridiculous immensities you were dwarfed in its shadow and mocking of its pomp. So with death this near he thought numbly but purely upon a billion vanities, arrivals, departures, idiot excursions of boy, boy-man, man and old-man goat. He had gathered and stacked all manner of foibles, devices, playthings of his egotism and now, between all the silly corridors of books, the toys of his life swayed.~Ray BradburySource: Something Wicked This Way Comes
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