quick update:
[a] i should be working on stuff to turn in
[b] i should wash/clean the car
[c] i must get up and out and check on the dogs for d (at least twice today)
[d] i must work on things to turn in for this last lame but functioning week of the winter term.
[e] frazzle~smashed, bleh.. there was one more thing but i can't forget.. i mean remember.. what it was.
yesterday.. love was such an easy game to play...? says who. love is never an easy game to play. not for me anyway. oh and i don't mean looooovvvee i just mean the physical manifestation of that feeling like you connect or belong or.. something. OH! now i remember what [e] was supposed to be in the list. i've got to figure out how to get my computer to recognize both drives d and e again. yesterday i was sick of myself and so i went looking for that pesky dvd disc that comes with the dvd you install into your tower.. so i find it and i proceed to get things in order.. installing and sitting back and letting the thing do what it needs to do to right itself.. and everything is good.. that is up until i try to install the pirate copy of this program that everyone needs/has.. this program and/or file or whatever its called that i got from a friend [li'l O] and that i never returned even though he's asked me to remember to return it.
bleh.
so things are going ok. they're coming up ok.. but i'm a dumbass.. and instead of going where i need to go i go somewhere else because i'm curious and the next thing i know i've successfully installed something i don't need at the price of both the d and e drives.. well, at the price of the computor not recognizing them.. or disabling them.
so now comes the task of putting things back in order dammit. bleh.
and in other news: yesterday's session (or maybe i should say this early morning's session) made up for the ridiculous drama i brought to thursday night's fiasco. everything all rhythmical and tingly. everything all righty right and fun.
the truth is that this is all i can think about writing on.. these sessions, my "awakening" as it were.. is all i can think to talk about in my writings and its ever so distracting. i mean, try writing a fairytale and being interrupted by the sensual aspect of remembering the feel of chin-stubble grazing the back of your shoulder. y'know what i mean? distracting.
i mean it! in my landscape poetry class.. where the other six or so students and the teacher just don't know what to make of my writings except to say that they feel very surreal and hard to follow. i mean even when i concentrate with every inch of myself toward something other than being next to him.. it comes out from my fingers, riding the ridges of a pen that leaks too free to be mine.
[this is something i turned in that the professor said he didn't have any suggestions for but he wanted to hear it read. he said that he did pick up on my "oblique (environmentalist) commentary". of course i didn't set out to do that. my intention had more to do with interruption than the spirit of activism and/or rage at some not-so-far-off industry. and then also someone in class re-read it to herself and imagined i was specifically talking about christ on the cross. everyone else (about two or three people who don't/haven't really learned to say what they mean) thinks i'm being pretentious and intentionally ambiguous. but why would i do that? that defeats the purpose of wanting or needing (or craving) to be understood.. not to just be heard and then dismissed. for cryin out loud, this isn't poetry's version of american idol. i'm not even a poet for crime's sake!! i'm just trying to get through this thing..
dry
tapered tree-limbs unable
to remake his own gesture
gaze upturned
the knuckles twisted nodules
furious
with desire for thickset heaven
marbled after rains
compressed into softened clay,
under sprawling dark feet,
slick worms work around
hard plastic bauble
charming toy
buried proof
[the following is the most recent piece of bleh that i turned in]
and these were stubborn repetitions or drifting progressions,
doubling over in grief, set to music, lying prostrate beneath the ticking hour
with none but a swatch of sky for company.
oh, slow dance sky
your deepblues night comes
muffled by dark clouds
these swollen cotton giants
sail in the cross-breeze
oh, slowdance sky
the muffle of deep blues night
soaks the scene
softened veils
cool
over fevered plain
but thick rain waits
to pour itself through
gash of blackened brume
the dark
clouds soaking in deep blues
is a muffled slow-dance night
1:17 p.m. - 2004-03-07
Recent entries:
oday.html">the 3 month countdown begins - 05 May 2018
anothrburst.html">another burst - this used to be my playground
newlife.html">begin at the beginning. - 10 April 2008
moody.html">a blanket for a bad mood under the sun. - 25 March 2007
emilludwig.html">...kissing a fool... - 05 December 2006
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