The name's Brian.

there is no creating.
only rearranging.

the master rearrangers
are the ones who win. 

Was cleaning out old notebooks; found this:
[background, I wrote this in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, en route to South Africa, on Semester at Sea]

3:45am | 13 October 2011
Title: “a thought.”

My heart is still in Ghana, but my brain is in South Africa.

Possibly the worst thing you could do is take me around the world, and introduce me to all these problems which I can solve … because now, I have a to do list.

∞

I can stay awake for as long as I can stay asleep.
I can send emails for as long as I can avoid them.
I can stay in school for as long as I can ditch class.
I can talk to people for as long as I can ignore them.
I can read books for as long as I can watch airplanes.

length of time for all activities above = forever.

It’s peculiar how much weight we put in words from another; if you can quote someone else in conversation, your argument suddenly becomes heavier. How is this possible..?

I am I, and
You are You.
We are We.
Together,
We can be. 

poetry.
is anything but regularity.

regularity
is anything but now

and now is everything but never.

for now,
lasts
for ever.

and ever is for nothing.

but nothing isn’t possible.

because no thing is
impossible

and every thing
is poetry.

because nothing
has regularity.

I often wonder. If people see me.

especially when I dress up for no apparent reason.