Name: Falen Acon
Residence: San Diego California
Age: 15 (almost 16)
Birthday: Jan 4, 2000 (Capricorn)
School: Don't worry about it!
Grade: 10th (Sophomore)
Class Of: 2018
Favorite Color: Ballet Pink, Gun Metal Gold and Burgundy
Favorite Flower: Wild Flowers, Roses & Sunflowers
Hobbies: Dancing and Poetry
Favorite Food: Pizza
Favorite Drink: Strawberry and Root Beer Soda
Favorite Dessert: Ice Cream (Shakes) (any flavor)
Happy Place (place that makes me happy): Beach or Dance Studio
Career Path: Professional Dancer
Lucky Day: Saturday
Lucky Number: 3
Favorite Number: 7
Friends: Christan Zeal, Elsa Angelica and Drevon Young
Goals:  Find true love, Find happiness and Travel World
Favorite Artists: Lana Del Rey, The Weeknd, Drake, PartyNextDoor, Post Malone, ILoveMakonnen, Rae Sremmurd, RDGLDGRN, Kyle, A.$.A.P Rocky, G-Eazy and Zayn Malik
Celebrity Crushes: Zayn Malik, Justin Bieber,  RED (from RDGLDGRN) and Steph Curry (GSW)
Favorite NBA Team: Golden State Warriors (GSW)
Favorite NFL Team: North Carolina Panthers
Favorite MLB Team: Chicago Cubs
Favorite College Football Team: LSU Tigers
Favorite Nascar Driver: Kasey Kahne
Future College: Texas State University (TSU) or Something :)
Future Sorority: Delta Sigma Theta (DST) /_\

Some days I just want to give you a shake
so you can open your eyes and see
it's more than okay to make a mistake.

Seriously, snap out of it, wake!
Picture this, it is the obvious key.
It is something that is not that opaque.

This life lesson really does take the cake.
It's not like life is fluent like a stream.
It's more than okay to make a mistake.

Life will have jagged edges like a rake.
annoying obstacles, and entrance fees.
It is something that is not that opaque.

Don't be so harsh, just cut yourself a break,
cause' in MLB they still miss the tee.
It's more than okay to make a mistake.
It is something that is not that opaque.

Stress is Noise


Silence
the sun finally creeps into my room long abandoned
spilling light on organized chaos
a bed, haphazardly made
a desk - blanketed in overused office supplies and crumpled ideas
cold coffee saturating the air with its once savory aroma
a room, the perfect picture of absolute tranquility
still the only time spent here is to prepare for the next moment

We work.
and that includes more than the hours clocked in at a man’s vocation;
the time traded away for money we spend on skin-deep tchotchkes
that only last until they collect dust or become it
the whirr of machines, pounding of hammers, and gossip from the break room across the hall
all adding to the cacophony already pummeling our ears

There’s the time we spend at home,
grinding out tomorrow’s report
or having a fleeting moment of rest corrupted when we catch up with old friends
or read a book we’ve been dying to finish
or beat that last level on the newest video game
or fret about the meeting you dread
like a sunburn from head to toe
the pain doesn’t go away by tanning yourself
we work to solve the symptoms, but only progress the disease
muffling the hopeful silence with white noise

There’s team you’ve committed to
where practices are every day making you run faster, jump higher, create chemistry, score goals, play in pressure, and force expectations you can’t possibly meet.
which could be relieving that pent up stress - or maybe just siphoning gas from the already
empty tank
winning games has become more important than the teamwork sports inspire
Cheering and encouragement only adding to the babbel surrounding us

And now there’s media
like a leech it ***** any time we have left
twitter, facebook, insta, snapchat, pinterest, tumblr, youtube, buzzfeed, CNN, BBC, MSN, F-o-x,  NFL, NBA, MLB, NHL, NCAA - *** we haven’t even talked about cell phones
We’re surrounded by sound that not even a black hole could drown out
And yet we still somehow wonder why stress and depression are through the roof

Where are the thinkers and dreamers?
The ones that don’t skirt sideways at oppression
Or flee at the face of failure
I’ll tell ya, they’re pleasantly passing papers
and monotonously beating deadlines
and staying in their lane
and building castles so large it takes days to walk every corridor
What happened to those,
who don’t worry about the size of their paycheck
or getting in the expensive neighborhoods where
every car costs enough to buy Washington
and our futures are more stable than ever
• Because in reality your future is an edge of a knife
that will sever through hard work
like the superficial paper success builds its skyscrapers out of

I wonder, what would happen if we turned all that yelling — all that white noise — into silence
…..
…..
…..
It’s weird, isn’t it
…
…
…
Can you for once hear the clock ticking?
…
…
When’s the last time the only sound you heard was your breathing
We’ve gotten so caught up in living that we’ve forgotten how to live
We’ve forgotten about the rest
that makes the next chord much more powerful

Nowadays rest in peace comes once in a lifetime
and the work we do means no more than that slip of paper you get at the end of the month
when did we stop learning for the sake of ourselves
and stop working to better the world
and stop playing sports solely for their enjoyment
and stop taking time just hear the beauty of silence
stop learning for grades
stop working for things
stop chasing the wind
stop and smell the roses
stop

I want to work at the baseball


Hi everyone, it's me again, and I am telling you this
You see, mate I want to work in the USA at a MLB game
I don't care what match, oh no, whether it's dodgers, or Marlins
Or even the New York Mets or Yankees
I just want to work at the baseball, man
And if I don't, I will get a little cranky
I want to help out at the front gate and check tickets, yeah that's good
And after the game starts, oh yeah, I want to sell ice creams
Yeah that sounds so divine, and everyone will like me
As I sit here waiting to sell them, oh yeah
I will sell to little Timmy, and Fiona, Nicole and little baby Clare
I walk up and down the grandstands saying these simple little words
Ice creams, ice creams, anyone for ice creams, only $2 for 1
Kids were running all over the place, trying to buy one off me
And suddenly this became very busy, I can hardly breathe
After that rush I told someone, that when I die
I will bring baseball to the afterlife, and any nut can play it
Cause up there, we don't need food, water or worry about being fit
Leave that for our earth, bodies to worry about
We can fly around, from planet to planet
Playing 5 hour games, and we can score very high scores
And strike out a lot as well
You see when Ronald Reagan died, he played baseball for Mercury
And he scored 1 home run and then he was struck out ever since
I also saw a baseball star, and he was ****** good
He got three home runs, and then after that he struck out
Their best batter they had, and after he finished doing that
He went into the tent, and he arrived there
When I started working there as a volunteer barman
Where I will sell the beer and spirits
I did that for the rest of the night
Right to the stroke of midnight, and I felt so good about that, oh yeah
And then our very first president, George Washington said, let me batter up, and while George was on Saturn playing baseball against Jupiter and playing well indeed, his earth body was playing at this baseball match I worked at, and Buddha made us meet, you George scored 4 home runs, and this batter scored 4 home runs, and this was the most exciting moment in my entire life
And I will always say to myself
I want to work at the baseball, where I can feel I can really become involved with a sport as good as this, oh yeah


Sent from my iPhone

I Bear... NO RELATION...
To... IGNORANT Nations... !!!

Cos' My Mental GESTATION...
Seeks... UNIFICATION... !!!

of Nations Now... OBSESSED With How...
They FIT The Mould of Being BOLDER...
Than Those CONTROLLED By Nations Unknown...
Who Seem To Roll Like HUMAN Trolls... !?!

By This I Mean THOSE …
Who Like To RUB Shoulders...
With Government Folds And Corporate **'s...
Whose Nation Now GROWS …
From … Financial Goals... !!!

But What Has Been SHOWN …
Is … How It Is COLD... !!!
And LACKING Direction …
INJECTING Connections...

Practical... Factual...
DENYING Collateral...
DAMAGE That's  SAVAGE …
Like Nations That RAVAGE...
For Power They Manage …
Like REINS That MISS Carriage... !!!!!

Did You Get It... MISS Carriage... !?!

A Vision of... JUSTICE...
That's BRAVER Than... DAVE... !!!!!

Let Me Say That AGAIN... !!!

A Vision of... JUSTICE...
That's BRAVER Than... DAVE... !!!!!

Cos' Now Nations Are Played...
Like... " MLB Games "... !!!!

REPEATEDLY... " Stationed "...
To CLAIM... BAD Vibrations... !!!

My Nations' IRATION' Is Written On Paper...
Through Thinking That's GREATER...
Than Nations of... HATERS... !!!

Because My Collation …
of Thoughts Breed Creations...
That Stand For RELATING …
Written DELECTATIONS... !!!
That YES Speak On HATRED …
And THINKING That's Vacant... ?

But Speak For... " ONE REASON "... !!!
To Poetically SEASON.... UNIFICATION....

of Nations … PROCLAIMING...
Themselves To Be WORTHY...
of... MASS ADMIRATION...
And Yes... ELEVATION... ?!?

ABOVE HUMANS Now CLAIMING...
ONE RACE As... Our...

… ” Nation "..

No concert, no game, no movie, no show
No restaurant, no bar, nowhere to go
No football, no hockey, no MLB
No racing, no hoops, nothing to see
No parks, no playgrounds, no scenic view
No stores, no gyms, nothing to do
No work, no commute, no morning train
No travel at all, especially by plane
No school bus, no teaching, no end of year test
Nothing to do but stay home and rest
No posting, no pics, no Facebook spree,
Individual thought is taboo for me
No discussion, no talk, no healthy debate
Nothing to say lest one gets irate
No opinion, no vision, no idea is fine
Especially when yours conflicts with mine
No polls, no voting, no liberty tree
No life worth living in the land of the free

i have abandoned the joys of music, truly:
disgusted by it;
only in the late 19th century
Nietzsche would have surmounted to posit
an argument along the line(s) of:
without music, life would be unbearable

or...

music makes life bearable...

how tedious now, music,
how obliterating the senses -
without eyes yet still talk of sight
without ears yet still talk of hearing
perhaps even with eyes
those two vital organs
like kidneys
how strange that they are so exposed
and so important
yet so exposed
unlike kidneys hidden in body
these protruding vital organs
since eyes are organs
equipped to deal this parody
not of bone covered by flesh and sinew
and muscle and fat
but these two flimsy pieces of skin
that light can penetrate
and give a man who toiled through night
and tried to find solace in
sleep come day
an insomnia that would require more
than eyelids with the added pressure
from a folded arm like a blindfold...

music has, become, unbearable,
a tedium for the senses
a shortening of some sort: a variation of otherwise
perfectly adjusted adjectives
to call a mountain big
a sea grand
and an insect philosophical: Solomon's ant...

music is no music with visual aids
unlike...
unlike: i spent this morning eating breakfast
of: never mind...
watching Schindler's List
in that moment when the Krakow ghetto
was being emptied
and that SS man was caught off guard
from all the chaos happening
and he tried to remedy the pre-horrors
of the finalized plans
frenzied at the piano
while two other SS men inquired
as to what (he) was playing...

Bach? no no... Mozart...

“was ist das, ist das Bach?”
“nein, das ist Mozart.”

English Suite No. 2 in A minor, BWV 807: III

yes, the latter... obviously...
the genesis of polyphony,
the signature is all there, intact with Bach
unlike anything Mozart could
have conjured...
in that if there is talk of "genius"
then there is also talk of methodology
a blindness of exacting
a profoundness of unhearing
and then not hearing
while at the same time being to play: a hearing
of the music...

i try to think that writing this would
be eased by listening to some music
but then with whiskey my mind unwinds
and three days have passed since
i slouched in my bed

today i realized the fundamental cruelty of
pleasures
or rather: the joy of reading
(fiction) unlike some philosophical demand
of reading then application
because i can't think of how reading
philosophy makes you apply it
like reading a manual with all the schematics
of say: putting up a DIY object
bought from the Swedes
packaged in cardboard
because by then you're no less LEGO
and Danish
and no carpenter in sight...

old Libra: write less than you read or just
about...
after all it feels less like smiling when one
is frowning
but more so when one is squirming
(but not ******* on a lemon)
       or some general distaste for humanity
whereby i'm just as much part of it
as much as a distance from it
a step behind or perhaps more a step aside...

so much of philosophy concerns itself
with: what is... philosophy...
in terms of a genre, a literary genre...

which brings me toward what emerged from
a pleasure of reading:
antithesis of music is equivalent to
the comfort of listening to a cat sleeping,
snoring...
or listening to a woman during *******
i don't think i can compensate that
with music...
i can: compensate music with music...
but i can't compensate the sound
of the elements: wind, earth, water with music...
music doesn't compensate the natural
order of things
and i can verily, now, understand:
the Taliban aversion to music...
before even the beauty of music can come
there is already an aversion to it
and just, justly so...

  music has becomes less elevating and more
grounding like a doubling on realism
that breeds contempt for transcendental
escapism of merely human talk...
i've had a roller coaster of the past two
days and i can attest
that a transcendental escapism based
upon merely human interaction of talk
exists...

on Saturday i changed shifts...
unable to do a Wembley shift (as a ******
supervisor, static,
with a cordon of stewards and security
officers
ensuring that no bags bigger than A4
reached the premises of the stadium
just tickled at the footprint of
the outer perimeter)...
instead was "demoted" to an security
officer role at the London Stadium for the MLB
event (Phillies vs. the Mets...
is that the equivalent of the Championship
vs the Premier League
given that the Yankees are a tier above
the Mets? anyways)

i had so much fun, pleasure, joy, life
being part of the team... searching bags
giving all the right lip service
and smiles and all the humanly adequate
body language of people feeling threatened
by any persuasion of authority:
to ensure their safety blah blah...
but it wasn't that...

on our break...
there were 4 of us...
basically me, Nur (Nur),
Richard, ..., ...,
it was me and 4 blacks guys
and however you want to disguise
or not the descriptive posits
of how each one of us looked...
no... i will not be a writer:
impatient man
this whiskey isn't helping
i can't write something transcendenal
although it was
i've already started unwinding with
the whiskey

the next day a spectacle of an argument
a waste of me writing this...
there should be restrictions on what
you can write...

no science fiction writer could have
predicted the smartphone...
outer-reaches of technological potentiality...
best keep Erasmus of Rotterdam
and Philip K. ****
and Stephen King and Alexander Dumas
out of it...
writing this will only give a % traction
of my availability to the letters
and there will still be the juggernaut of
ØX         ØX   XØ
         XØ      ØX ØX
ØX           XØ           ØX

****** keyboard... misjudged placing...
but summer is here
and my silent disco shift at Portsmouth
has been cancelled so
i don't have to worry about
getting enough sleep...

misguided though...
giving Paul Arteides all but one title...
Mehdi,
Kwisatz Haderach,
Muad'Dib... yes, yes... yes...

but not... Lisan al-Gaib...
that title should have been reserved for
his unborn sister!
the "outer world" is not the world of
Caladan "vs" Arrakis...
the "outer world" of: yet to be born...
or: unborn... regardless...

emotions created from insufferable
confrontation
with a Swiss entrepreneur...
allocating argument:
but we're going to the moon...
i say:
but you already scanned your ticket...
there's no reentry...
think about you buying a ticket
for a train at 12:10...
you think you can use the same
ticket for a 13:10 train
even though you stepped on the 12:10
train then decided to hop off
but the moon was boiling in
his mind
his logic his self-entitlement
of paying £200 for a ticket
gave him the authority to
call ask who i was...
who i was...
so much for what money doesn't
buy: integrity and character...
and integrity of character...

     bounced about the word
LOSER
when i finally replied to his: who are you?
POET...
oh... so that's a LOSER then...
well...
i should have played a joke on him
like:

Odysseus tells Polyphemus
that his name is Οὖτις:
    no one...

but how can i see this Americanized
version of life as
winning and losing
in life as transient when
he clearly only sees riding high
without seeing riding low
and in the end
the inevitable loss for everyone
via death and i'm sure
the minute he dies
memory of him will die too...

which brings me onto a new fascination
with... what became of

KUL TIGIN
then later the Runes
(i am so suspicious of the Gothic script
though... really ******* shady)

𒅗
'tooth' [zu], 'mouth'
[ka] and 'voice' [gu]

ズカグ          (respectively) = not mouth

but Kao (

顔                                            )

but you can see the complications
"transliterated" from
Assyrian Cuneiform to Chinese
and then somehow simplified
and untangled into Katakana...

ideograms are shortenings of
what Europeans could call
colors: in traffic code...
green is for go
amber is shortened to take caution
for getting ready or slowing down
while red is stop
because emoticons are not:
the same equivalence to the automatic
recognizable info
universal but more idiosyncratic
covert messaging...

        ******* Swiss *****...
well LOSER didn't really affect me
because i was just about to say...
so... you spent £200 to watch a game of baseball...
**** me...
it now just dawned on me...
but... i used to spend £130 on an hour
with a *******...
regardless of whether i ******* or not...
last time i remember i spent that same
amount of money on an inexperienced
20 year old who didn't know that
an uncircumcised **** needed temporary
peeling
to expose the hammer-head
and in the end she massaged me
a little then i massaged her entire
body
finding out she starred in some shady
**** flick in some dungeon
given that when i massaged her
*** and back of the legs
they were bruised from all the extra
***** and no ***** of ****...

so... this argument of the moon
and being "successful" just because
spending £200 on a baseball match...
******, please... i spend £130 on an hour
with a *******...
at least you're getting your money's worth...
yesterday i started my shift at 6am
finished at 6pm...
the game started at... **** know's
3pm? lasted for about 4 hours...
in that time i became a fan of cricket
and ushered in the sentiment of:
well: if anything...
Americans really know ******* of watching
sport...
in a fluid fashion...
from minute 0 to minute 90
with interludes for over-refereeing
with too much technology use...
it's still not going to beat a tennis match
with two players and a football team
of referees + the ball boys etc