five random things
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...
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...
Comments
That said, when it touches someone else ... Oh! It's double the pleasure.
:-)