the shores of astrakhan are fine

my poem's flesh is not quite attached.
perhaps later.

I read an article this week that talked about child depression, how so many people are just now accepting that people other than older teenagers and up can be depressed. the article said that many people think depression is just "for grown-ups."

people are embarrassing.

ladygagalicious

checking my feed this weekend, when I have real internet.

publishing tip of the day

I am using at least two of those adjectives if I ever publish a chapbook.
I need new music. and a cd that is, at max, ten dollars on b & n's website.

school is draining, as always.

I want to wake up where you are.

stop writing about masquerades.

leave me out with the waste.

I'm thinking someone's trying to fuck with me
and set fire to my wood

[. . .]if you can't tell if I’m lying
then you do not belong.

ep ep ep.

my phone is dead.
I am still not writing.
brookhaven at the end of the month or early july.

re: wg^2 // jg & dl--screw talking, I would have let maura drown in her emo poetry.
I liked the rest.
I cannot quite fathom eating two burritos, let alone one. I suppose this is why I am not tiny-size.

eta: zune marketplace is listing music so obscure that even it does not have the music available for purchase--and youtube only has live versions of the music.

arbyyyyy's.

it would be interesting to start a secular/freethought student organization here. I'm really not sure how many members it would procure, this being mississippi... maybe if I served pralines. everyone loves pralines.

the vp is speaking spanish in the bathroom.
the free box on my floor is almost overflowing.
I put a flower in my hair today, but it was uncomfortable.
I rediscovered public libraries. my younger self is, no doubt, horrified at the distant relationship book borrowing and I have had for the past few years. in my defense: my permanent residence's public library is pathetic, and I can't find anything there.
hemingway is pretty ace.

when I shave in the morning
you don't recognize me

I ask if you're still there
and you answer, "truly"

- stars.

also:

according to wikipedia, this is a part of one of brendan behan's poems:

"I absolutely must decline
To dance in the streets with Gertrude Stein
And as for Alice B. Toklas,
I'd rather eat a box of Fucking chocolates."

mmmm. toklas chocolate.

to echo ashlyn's post from long ago... I'm writing nonfiction willingly.* I should probably be having an existential crisis from this, but I have one everyday, so it's passé.

*semi-willingly. I avoid writing about my family and myself. I hate being a coward in any way, so I'm forcing myself to write about these things. GO ME. Tea in two and a-little-more-than-a-half days.

typically, it currently involves communism.

I am going to write a romantic poem. I don't think it's a love poem. I don't know if I want to write one of those yet. Or ever.

subject colon

your biographies are boring, you literature people. I want to know more about you than I want to know that you've been published in every magazine/journal/review/good homes and gardens since merlin's time. CAN'T YOU PUT THAT SOMEWHERE ELSE. ):

tea tea tea tea saturday school cry cry MUSIC science articles are blocked acquiring more water this poem sucks.

april sixteenth

my play is some sort of horrible contrived mess.