1)I am, if anything, a creature of habit. The counter staff at the Dunkin Donuts on Michigan has my Large French Vanilla (medium iced in summer) and blueberry muffin practically waiting for me before I get to the counter. There's something about that that freaks me out a little.
2)For some things, certain impulses I cannot control when it comes to certain men, I am SO going to hell...
3) I read arguments like this and sometimes feel as if my head if stuffed full of cotton and I can't figure out what the hell anyone is saying or why it matters as long as you write poems people like or respond to on some level. Of course I also feel like I gave up any keys to the post-avant kingdom when I name Plath and Sexton as my primary influences.
4) Sometimes, writing poetry is very hard. Sometimes not.
5)Last night I dreamed I was back in a CC poetry workshop, workshopping poems that everyone hated that I could not, for the life of me remember having written. I personally though they were pretty good and had very clever titles, none of which I remember now, but I was unusually impressed. Then there was an earthquake and we all crawled under the table. A few weeks ago I had a dream that I was meeting a daughter (now 18) I had given up at age sixteen, despite not remembering ever having given birth or even having had sex at that age. There is probably something to all this...
