Don't have much time. For this, that is, because everything else is coming and going right fast like a chicago street corner. Distributing poetry today, shit, kind of nervous. Silly me wants to impress professor mcsteamy (I'll just shrivel up and die if he doesn't just love my poetry). Not really, but kinda. In my in-between moments (I have so very few these days) I'm working hard on preparing a scathing commentary addressing a certain someone with a pessimistic half-life. You know who you are and I no longer care to address you in any real-time or direct setting. Your bitterness and negativity are somehow finding me on the other side of the world. I don't have room for bitterness and negativity at this junction, try me again this time next year? But your sordid comments have spurred me to develop a manifesto of sorts to clarify what this here blog is all about.
In other news I just love this. Please check it out, wether you appreciate "pussy" poetry or not; it's people doing their thing, because it's what is important to them. I admire that.
The last unicorn surprised herself today: I woke up and went to classes even though I was late, unshowered, and stuck in a half sleep state. To those who know me in real life, praise Jesus a miracle has ocurred. I'm out to prove myself to myself, and damn it if I'm not pretty convincing. It's too early to throw the victory party, but a little headway is encouraging. Despite the frost bitten bluster of late-winter (my least favorite season by far), I'm pretty damn content.
What wonders never cease.
I believe I've found my narrative thread for my 347's epic (ew. forty pages) poem. It will be titled "The Book of Nots." Too trite? Any ideas?
to you sir: Funny how we didn’t know what we were thinking until we both had thought it.