Académique Documents
Professionnel Documents
Culture Documents
Part II
Timothy Ballan
2015
Contents
Acknowledgements............................................................................3
Disclaimer..........................................................................................4
I. Dreamlike Images
Poems................................................................................................6
Vignettes............................................................................................9
Poems..............................................................................................16
Poems..............................................................................................24
Aphorisms........................................................................................37
3
Disclaimer
I refuse to use quotation marks in such a way that envelopes any
commas or periods not suggested by the quoted material. For
example, quoting a child saying the words "I don't want to go now",
I did not put the comma within the quotation marks, as the comma
is not suggested by the child's words. On the other hand, I will end
this next sentence in a different way. As someone once said, "Use
your head, not your rule book."
With a similar emphasis on clarity over convention, I also
follow dashes with commas at times. Even if preceded by a dash
as I will now demonstrate, I retain commas that retain usefulness.
Beyond just punctuation, though, I'd hope abundant clarity pervades
my writing, from word order, to sentence structure, to overall
presentation of ideas.
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I. Dreamlike Images
5
Poems
Impossible Modern Buses
I Just Spoke
Levels of Infinity
6
and Ummywaeder Woods,
until we reached the dry meadows of Nunnyfield,
and dined with cat and opossum alike
on acorn pie and carbonated juniper water.
The lone white birch in the field bluely softened by the stars who,
even in their waking tears,
blessed every waving patch of grass and reddish spot of sand
between wiry leafless growths of different heights while evenly
spread,
even the pinkly steaming streaming springs glowing
from the last fiery screams of the sun sinking behind out backs.
Distorted Material
All material in the world distorts shape without changing its type of
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material,
without losing or gaining any material,
without connecting to other material not already connected with it,
and without breaking into any parts.
8
Vignettes
A gigantic grey cat with a yellow leather collar lined with small
crystals takes up most of the space in a large church sanctuary that
is made entirely from mostly clear-ish glass and rounded, holding
no corners or straight lines. Outside one stained-glass window near
the ceiling and next to a balcony that covers half of the sanctuary's
length we can see another rounded glass room, though much
smaller than the sanctuary. Through a window beyond that room is
another rounded glass room, and we continue traveling through
these and other such rooms, finding no space under water or in the
sky free from rounded glass rooms connected by windows.
*
A huge, Hoover-Dam-sized vat filled with logs and sticks forming
pockets of various sizes creates areas for animals to live, from
shallow burrows for chipmunks to room-sized dens for bears. The
dam is filled with squirrels, woodchucks, beavers, other rodents,
bears, and deer. While it begins flooding with translucent orange-
yellow water, only the lower third of the dam is filled, creating
pools that all the animals use to bathe in.
*
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a person running along the
right side of my car, though some distance to the side. The person
is running the same speed as I am driving, forty-five miles per hour,
parallel to my car, and yet not seeming to notice or care to notice
me or my car. As I turn my head, intending to quickly glance at the
person, they are no longer there.
*
On the side of the road to the left of a driver in a heavily wooded
area at night stands a life-sized plastic doll bobbing in slight wind.
The driver pulls to the right and crosses the road to investigate the
doll. Tapping the doll gently, it tips over to reveal thousands of ants
spreading out from under where it stood. The driver, who is a four-
year-old boy, backs away and reenters his car.
*
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A hayfield accompanied by a french horn overlooks bails and
golden plants of all sorts surrounded by scattered green and blinding
rays of sunlight as I slowly dance out a waltz with a wolf in my
bedroom and all else in time has stopped frozen still. I and the wolf
are soon transported to some woods also frozen still, scattered with
seventeen nearby frozen female nymph-like creatures dressed in
leaves and posed with a grace and calm, but holding expressions
and positions of relative unease.
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Chronicles of a Road Trip
to a Jungle in Florida
We stop at a motel in Delaware a few hours into our road trip. I
wake up to find near my bed a large fluffy hamster-sized insect with
large black eyes and bee-like black and yellow stripes. I'm afraid
and shoo it out of the room. However, local residents tell me later
that these are common and harmless insects found outside of New
England.
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pavement across the whole development, we know this won't be
prohibitively difficult.
At first, we only find multiple bottles from recent years, but soon
discover centuries-old belongings of the person we somehow know
to be the original owner of the house and of the farm on which this
whole development was built. These belongings include small
ornate gilded wooden vessels of different sizes and shapes. One
vessel holds coins, one holds jewelry, and one holds pearls. In
addition to these belongings, we discover an old clock with drawers
containing pictures from the farmer's family. I don't know how all
this was preserved without being enclosed and why it was so near
the surface; all this appears to be at least two hundred years old.
Soon we have walked probably two miles from our car, and a dark
purplish sunset has already nearly filled the sky. However, strange
blue-green glows from within swamps now on either side of us
mostly light our way. From the fading sunlight and blue-green
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glows, we see enough to notice that, as we walk on, the vegetation
is continuously becoming fuller, greener, taller, and closer to the
walkway that, at this point, is guarded by side rails.
While we are afraid, we turn around and know that we will easily be
able to retrace our steps and come out to the car before morning.
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I'll Pay Later
Sliding down the glass slide to pay for my textbooks, I stand up to
approach the register.
I leave this atrium via the glass escalator and come out to the
classical-style flower park surrounded by paths intertwining old
cottages.
My parents are in love with this hawk. Her name is Dommie. She
seems developmentally disabled.
I wander past cottages and discover a long path encircling not just
the cottages, park, and textbook center, but spots of dense woods,
wanderable gardens, and lonely fields of tall grass. I follow the
path for some time and discover more cottages interspersed with
several pavilions that house different groups of people holding
different types of picnics and parties. I intend to explore more
before I pay for my books.
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II. Dreamlike-Contemplative Images
15
Poems
Too Small
A woman has a son who was born at five thousand tons. He was
surgically extracted from her and developed in a large laboratory
well before his deemed-birth, however. And yet, just about when he
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was taken home from the laboratory into his mother's house
specially redesigned and structured for him, he began steadily
shrinking. By the time he was five, he could only be seen through a
powerful microscope housed in the laboratory where he spent
months of his prenatal life.
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I pray thee well,
and let out your dragons
from underneath their spell,
beyond to above,
the lines on ye dwell,
under bridges and barricades
and far into Hell.
I later dreamed of a gigantic man who lived his whole life buried
within the rock of a certain mountain,
never exposed to other humans;
he was only discovered when a cannon ball knocked through the
mountain and through his head.
The man was assumed neither sentient before nor after the cannon
ball hit through his head,
but he was indeed sentient both before and after being hit;
the gigantic man even knew that he was always assumed non-
sentient,
but he held no animosity toward those who were ultimately
disparaging his existence.
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someday to touch my nose.
Cathartical Representations
19
Dr. Ko's Discovery
Our destination is the center of the universe, the "key" that we have
been told makes all wonders nothing.
I thought at first that it was unwise for Jen and Jim to bring their
pets, but Jen's Pomeranian Betsy and even Jim's blind cat Dugger
haven't gotten in the way. And, more importantly, the pets have
lightened the mood and calmed our nerves. I didn't expect how
frightening it would be to know that we are all about to undergo the
most important experience of ourand anyone'slives.
Riding the "banner" feels a little like riding a conveyor belt to what
all of usand I'm sure especially Dr. Koknow we will never be
able to mentally and emotionally prepare for enough. The belt's
rippling translucent neon colors are dazzling, but we know that
these visual wonders are just a byproduct of the belt's function to
lead us to what will be both ultimately meaningful and superlatively
beautiful.
And then we are whisked into some tangibly "central" place where
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we see encircling us all that we've passed and bypassed on what
seemed a relatively straight route.
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like platinum. And, slowly, my visual ability is not enough to
perceive what is in front of me.
And then I see him point up to the night sky, and I see all that we
had passed through, what will now clearly be written on the
terrestrial sky for the remainder of time.
As I stand with Ko and my friends and their pets on this icy shore, I
am made anew, but I feel as if there were more of us on that shuttle
and I mourn their absence. But then I realize that those I mourn are
all the people in the world, and I no longer need to mourn them or
anything. I no longer need to mourn because all anyone needs to do
now is look up to the sky where everything is clearly explained and
makes so much sense.
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III. Contemplative Images
23
Poems
Circles on Earth
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but sustenance for all we love
except excess.
Screaming in a Theater
The Rule-Followers
They are the people who obviously sing "dweam" or "twy" instead
of "dream" or "try". They follow classical vocal technique in
pronunciation, but without thought to a larger context beyond mere
rules.
They are the people who follow common but inherently optional
punctuation rules in writing, even as their sentences become
unintelligible: "I know the school offers programs in humanities,
arts and sciences, too. However, do these include programs in
'critical theory?'"
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from common but optional convention? And, as for "critical
theory?"... What is the reason for quoting the question mark itself?
Have you thought about this optional rule's purpose?
These people are those learning for tests *all* their lives, learning
rules to make the grade, make the raise, make the neighborhood
image, find success through discrete and concrete followable steps.
They know nothing of genuine interest in life and its parts. They
fear perceived failure far too much to learn to find enjoyment in
anything but prizes and compliments.
A Symptom of Snobbery
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than certain" that, assuming "a" and "b" as certain, the conclusion
"c" is certain as well, while a student humbly offers that claims
about deduction are still based on inference, and that any conclusion
can be imagined as indeed somehow wrong.
Untouched Hands
Worlds apart for so long but for twin cages of desire once opened to
both a bud of a blossom of what could have been and the expected
feared punishment of even the most innocent, harmless, and
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beautiful behaviors, I run from a full love and life lost and from
those who have and will further destroy me in the minds of others,
driving cautiously to the Hudson Bay and walking miles and miles
to find the cliff of my fears and fantasies that I was finally pulled to
research.
I let myself fall and crash into a frozen state of blissful regret and
hope, dreaming that my pure intentions will be widely known
through my life's practical and artistic work, and that I might yet do
some good through what my life's history might still communicate.
My last desire is simply for the good of all, including for my friend,
whom I speak to with my last breath, and whom I believe I will
continue to speak to through the life I have lived. With my last
breath, I wish him only the full love and life I have lost.
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Let the collective wound of the desperate throughout time bind and
comfort us.
This is a modest memorial for all those whose lives have never been
highly publicly commemorated, either in yearly televised
remembrance services, prominent statues of honor, or any other
fashion, either because of relatively unremarkable forms of death,
chance, or lack of social status.
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I Don't See Art in the World
To others,
my madness is most obviously manifested in a hindered ability to
communicate,
even to communicate this madness,
a hindered ability likely stemming from never finding in my mind a
natural separation between my beliefs and how they could be
best communicated;
I then only guess at how this might occur in a normal brain before I
ever communicate.
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But it is the attempt to understand schisms that causes most trouble.
Personal Potions
31
There could be another universe
and with other laws that could even allow
minds still greater than the best in ours,
and there could be a third or even an infinite array,
and any or all extending forever.
Disparate Corners
Days Gone By
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Days gone by frozen in time still lived but far from now as my heart
folds and whimpers in a rosed glow of yearning cherishes for a
shining purity naively holding itself as loosely as I now grasp for
what my learning is freed from ever staining.
the bones and brain are less apt to heal than the skin and organs,
but the brain's mind can still learn
to heal the worries of even aching joints and dementia.
To Let Go
To let go of a stone
In favor of an outstretched hand,
To take the frightening path
Though known to be far better
No Story So Beautiful
No story so beautiful
as the pasts we carry,
each a curved and winding line
of warmth and desire to forget,
of detailed triviality and horror,
faded in parts and brightly vivid in others,
our stories as remembered,
which transcend the linearity of telling.
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The Story of the Dream
Yes
Yes,
That will be fine,
Everything will work out,
I can help,
Here,
This is for you,
I will hold you when you need me to,
I love you,
Yes.
34
Tragedy and Always-Lingering Good
While we are parked on the mountain's crest overlooking the sunset,
we play a dramatic pop song that gradually rises to a climax
accompanied by words I feel to reflect my past struggle for finding
a sense of truth. The song's narrative suggests the singer to be very
much like I had been, but with an added bonus of a relationship
which I had yet to find. But I realize, now that I have a relationship,
it seems my past is mended and as if I had had a relationship all
along; I now feel completed with the savior I had searched for for so
long, completed even to a point beyond my discovery of the ethical
system I've settled into. But, as I hear these words, I begin to
realize that I'm dreaming as I begin to see above myself. My view
slowly widens as I see the landscape around me and while slowly
tilting up toward the sky. And then, at the very start of the last
chorus of this pop song, I wake up. I hear the final words and
realize that I still don't have a relationship and that I am without a
person who would complete me, help me be happier and thus better
fit to serve others. I know I had to become my own savior before
being able to find another, but, now that I have become fulfilled in
the completion of my journey to find a workable ethical system,
along with living the rest of my life by that system, I need to
embark on the journey to find love.
Soon after, I am driving in the dark back from a trip to visit Matt
where he now lives in Central New York, and I talk to Mel and
Diana separately on the phone about how I just finished writing my
book of philosophy and now just need to type it up. I talk about
how I feel free now, and for the first time in years.
"Yup, I'm actually gonna type it upI think I'm actually gonna
finish it tonight... Okay... Bye..." Soon after I put the phone
down, I forcefully brake in reaction to a pickup truck coming at me
head-on in my lane; I swerve to avoid a collision but slip on the icy
road into a tree. After then, things slowly fade to black, but I can at
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first see enough to notice a drunk man stumbling over to me.
Before reaching my car, he says "Oh my God what happened! I'm
sorry man!" After seeing brains and blood all over my face, though,
he walks away in shock. I hear him breathing nervously and
heavily. He leaves my door open and, while driving away, skims it
enough for it to slam shut.
The last thing I see is my last dream. Its perspective starts with a
close focus on my tombstone's epitaph but slowly widens and at an
angle quite higher than the conversing gravediggers next to it. They
talk of the meaning of my epitaph. One says that my mother said it
represented what I spoke of mostly in my last days. She would
have gone through at least my most recent writings from my
computer and papers in all sorts of bags, but she didn't want to
misinterpret my ideas. The details of these thoughts were lost, yet,
as one of the gravediggers comments, "I suppose anyone's life goal
can exude through to others, even without words". My
philosophical conclusion never published but hopefully
communicated through my life, at least toward its end, was to "Be
Effective for Yourself and Others".
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Aphorisms
Wherever there is poverty of mind and of spirit,
there you will find God, and in abundance.
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history of experiences and/or who have evolved differently.
"Principled Tenacity"
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About the Author
Timothy Ballan is a composer and writer who currently resides in
Western Massachusetts. As a composer, Timothy mostly writes
accessible classical music. As a writer, Timothy mostly writes
plotless stories, atmospheric vignettes, poems, and non-pretentious
philosophy. When not composing or writing, Timothy teaches
private piano lessons and leads several musical groups in urban
schools and youth development programs. In his free time, Timothy
enjoys driving on country roads, hiking, watching scary movies, and
sharing time and an absurd sense of humor with his human and
mint-flavored bobby-pin friends.
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