Old Portfolio

Preface

I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,

Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,

Maternal as well at paternal, a child as well as a man,

Stuff’d with the stuff that is coarse and stuff’d with the stuff that is fine,

One of the Nation of many nations, the smallest the same and the largest the same,

Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion

By: Walt Whitman, ‘Songs of Myself’

Ode to Identity: The Wasteland 2011

I am an individual within a collage,

both separate and whole is to juxtapose.

I live the American dream, but fear its mirage

for freedom threatens to decompose.

I am the paradox of Theseus

connected to everything and nothing—

I am American, but so much more

Questioning reality and illusion like Pu Song-Ling

Waiting for Neruda to bring me to shore

I am a Cottonwood, who’s roots have grown and spread

They’ve grown more than the years of a lifetime

My branches have been cut, but still they climb

They grew, and became the bridge, like a spiders thread.

But I am no hero i

n an age without heroes

In an age where mankind is greedy

The letters ‘Y’ ‘O’ ‘U’ have been replaced with ‘i’ ‘M’ and ‘E’

Our apple is not a fruit; our Apple is a company.

Our Identities have been upgraded to iDentities,

In which old models and new models lack synchrony.

And how can I find the internet link from me to you,

When my network connection is broken?

I can connect Nothing with nothing

And do intelligent humans have to have something tangible as evidence?

Yes, so I searched for my identity on Google,

But was directed to look up “endianness”on Yahoo.

So then I pieced together family photos and memories

while I listened to the beats of Pink Floyd

I climbed each branch to the top of my family tree,

But could not separate the birds song from the background noise

Later, my mother helped explain to me:

“Define yourself, you are only as strong as you believe”

Eleven years have now past,

and when I feel lost, I just look back.

Tribute To John Lennon

Mark Chapman shot and murdered John Lennon in the lobby of his residence building on December 8, 1980. Chapman fired his .38 special revolver five times, mortally wounding Lennon who was pronounced dead on arrival at Roosevelt Hospital. Determined to be an extremely mentally ill man,  Chapman had suffered from delusions, suicidal thoughts, and violent obsessions. Specifically, he was preoccupied with “The Catcher In The Rye,” and The Beatles. His statements often included Beatle lyrics, in which he interlaced conversation with song titles. He also often quoted from ‘The Catcher In The Rye,’ identifying himself as the main character, Holden Caulfield. Taking the perspective of Mark Chapman in this shocking event allowed me to consider personal stream of consciousness and psychoanalysis together. 

December 8, 1980

He said ‘Let It Be’, but Mother Mary did not speak to me—

Being lonely and faithless was never my plan,

But only his lyrics kept me company—

I am Holden Caulfield, but they call me Chapman.

While I waited for him I bought a book to read,

Consciously evading the quiet Lord’s voice within me.

Fortunately, the ticking time clicked quickly--

At 10:59 he came home in his Mustang

I aimed and fired, acted out of my own free will

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

And for a moment all is at a standstill:

“There’s room at the top they are telling you still,

But first you must learn to smile as you kill”

I shot John Lennon; I could not resist-

“He knew where the ducks went in winter,

and I needed to know this.”

Lost in an abyss, where reality does not exist--

In my mind, quotes and lyrics swarmed and deformed,

Suddenly a man called for the police and crowds began to form.

The crying people questioned how and why--

I sat down and began reading The Catcher In The Rye.