Despite the fact that I know I'm so hopelessly and fruitlessly over educated I can't help but feel that I'm not well read or I'm not deeply knowledgeable or not a thought provoking conversationalist. I feel like there are vast galaxies of knowledge, filled with dust clouds of thoughts and meteors of arguments, that I've never even heard of.
Does a person ever feel well read the way they feel the cold? Do they feel deeply knowledgeable the way they feel their heart beat? Can an answer even be imaged by the most brilliant of think tanks?
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Monday, July 05, 2010
a poem
a poem I wrote for a friend recently. that might be loosely based on events that might have happened to someone else. maybe.
YOUNG PEOPLE THINGS
i think it would be a super awesome concert. she's such a show woman
and i think i've been off my meds for a while
i left chiara's bday to go to atlantic city
and i got really high
really high
like so fucking high
in a ferriswheel
not really
about the ferriswheel
also the trip was totally unplanned
i went without a bra
no seriously
no bra
we also didn't sleep
like no sleep
and no bra
they gambled a lot
a lot
i thought it would be bad to gamble while high
and no bra
but the dealer kept staring at my nipples
cause it was cold
really cold
really really cold
so fucking cold
oooo a puppy
YOUNG PEOPLE THINGS
i think it would be a super awesome concert. she's such a show woman
and i think i've been off my meds for a while
i left chiara's bday to go to atlantic city
and i got really high
really high
like so fucking high
in a ferriswheel
not really
about the ferriswheel
also the trip was totally unplanned
i went without a bra
no seriously
no bra
we also didn't sleep
like no sleep
and no bra
they gambled a lot
a lot
i thought it would be bad to gamble while high
and no bra
but the dealer kept staring at my nipples
cause it was cold
really cold
really really cold
so fucking cold
oooo a puppy
right.
my blog.
hi!
I promise I'll pay more attention to you. When my life gets less exciting again.
Funny isn't it how when you actually have stuff to write about you don't have time to write.
hmmmmmm.
I was reading an article about the gulf diaster - ya know, like everyone else on the planet earth who can read - and they mentioned a boat called "a whale". Yes, seriously. As in a small child is looking at boats passing and says to his mummy "look mummy, a whale". (this child has a british accent, if you were wondering) and his mummy looks up from her Harlequinn novel and says "no dear that's a boat" and she returns to her book. He insists, tugging at her lounging sweater, "no mummy, it's a whale, really it is". Without looking up from the lurid sex scene in her book she says, "no moron it's a boat, there's no blow hole." From that point on the poor little boy is both terribly confused about the difference between whales and boats, and will never point out anything he finds interesting to his mother every again. Much to her delight.
my blog.
hi!
I promise I'll pay more attention to you. When my life gets less exciting again.
Funny isn't it how when you actually have stuff to write about you don't have time to write.
hmmmmmm.
I was reading an article about the gulf diaster - ya know, like everyone else on the planet earth who can read - and they mentioned a boat called "a whale". Yes, seriously. As in a small child is looking at boats passing and says to his mummy "look mummy, a whale". (this child has a british accent, if you were wondering) and his mummy looks up from her Harlequinn novel and says "no dear that's a boat" and she returns to her book. He insists, tugging at her lounging sweater, "no mummy, it's a whale, really it is". Without looking up from the lurid sex scene in her book she says, "no moron it's a boat, there's no blow hole." From that point on the poor little boy is both terribly confused about the difference between whales and boats, and will never point out anything he finds interesting to his mother every again. Much to her delight.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)