Weather Man

Today I woke at the ripe time of 5:45. Folks that is p.m. as in went to bed at night woke up at night. I've never slept this late in my life. I can't decide if it's utterly depressing or wonderfully restful! Apparently it is about 50 degrees out? Or so the weather man tells me. Absolutely bizarre. When I woke this morning I realized something ... my blog needs more pictures and or delightful links. So here we are:


This video is really nice. A Springsteen cover. The ONLY Springsteen I care for covered by Paul Baribeau and Ginger Alford. It makes me feel real excited. It makes me think of warm weather.

If I have to work in an office will it always feel like winter? I'm getting scared about big future.

I also realized I want to establish (before I leave) a stronger writing community at the University. The need, the want, and even the space is available. Since Dalkey and unit for contemp. lit was shoved out everyone seems a bit down in the dumps. Well I will gladly lift it, or try my best. I will provide cheap wine and black coffee. Who is excited? I know I am.

Here is a bit of writing I did the other day when absolutely fed up with everyone pulling me in one hundred thousand directions:

a tiny self-destructive thread winds through me. sometimes it catches a little too much light, and it blinds everyone around me. like I said, sometimes I’m too wild for me. but is it all a matter of guilt?
I won’t pretend to understand it or you or anything.
the changing of the hours the passing of the minutes.
the changing feelings I have for you. or you and you two.
I just won’t be honest about the color of my blood pumper. Green or purple maybe black with a little blue or a crimson red shade that would make you blush like the Thomas Jefferson impersonator when you poke him in the liberty bell.
this girl could use a little sin. this girls got too much sin. this girl could use a little gin.

nah.

It’s me I’m not being honest with, so don’t take it personal. and if you asked me what’s the weather I wouldn’t tell you for fear of you knowing that I’m terrified of the warmth just as much as the cold. Oh stop worrying about me. like I said I just won’t care too much or too little. or too big or small and I won’t miss out on much, because I think those pictures of lovers plastered all over is tacky. like the little liberty bells. someone had to fashion that crack, and it didn’t mean anything to them. it only made them bitter towards capitalism and the growing gap between the poor and the poor who have credit cards. I can say this stuff cause I don't care about anything else, and I know what blushing looks like when you hold it in.

(I'll probably be too lazy to insert pictures ever again) ha ha.