To do
I am a diligent to-doer. I have post-its on top of notecards taped to lists of things to do. So, here I am, crossing "blog" off of my list today. I should've made a list of things to write about on the blog in a small amount of time.
If you were at the UW-Writers' Institute-- thanks for coming! I had a fantastic time talking about writing, and I'm so glad you stopped by. If you weren't at the UW-Writers' Institute, you should go next year-- it was pretty great. Talk to me if you want to know more about it and what to expect and whatnot.
Did I mention that I finished The Hunger Games? I've almost started fights with strangers who I've overheard say, "Wah. The movie/book is so violent! I couldn't even read/watch it! There's no point but violence!" Blah to you and your lack of interest in/attention to morality and thinking. C is reading it now, and I plan (surely to his chagrin) to engage him in big philosophical conversations about survival and justice and love. Any book that can start conversations like these are worth reading. Now, I'm reading Bossypants. There's not a whole lot of philosophy, but it makes me laugh aloud on the bus, which is good for living.
Poem-a-day and I are getting on surprisingly well, considering our sordid past. I can remember the title of 1 poem I've written over the past 17 days. I don't know how many poems, in fact, I've written... Is it at least 14? Perhaps. Maybe?
Of course, none of this is what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about something with progression. Something that moved from point A to point C with a little B stop half-way through... Alas, here I am: 9:30 and ready for bed. I'll just insert some pictures to tie all of this together in a way that makes no sense.
I took a picture of this Cabbage Patch
Kid in NY. I don't understand it's pink
eye & nose. Nor do I understand its blue
cheek-dots. Hmph.
<< This little fella was in a strange, metal box attached to a telephone pole also in NY. If you know what it means, please tell me! ...I miss NY.
OK. I'm allergicking all over the place. I will eye-drop and sleep. Bis bald...
If you were at the UW-Writers' Institute-- thanks for coming! I had a fantastic time talking about writing, and I'm so glad you stopped by. If you weren't at the UW-Writers' Institute, you should go next year-- it was pretty great. Talk to me if you want to know more about it and what to expect and whatnot.
Did I mention that I finished The Hunger Games? I've almost started fights with strangers who I've overheard say, "Wah. The movie/book is so violent! I couldn't even read/watch it! There's no point but violence!" Blah to you and your lack of interest in/attention to morality and thinking. C is reading it now, and I plan (surely to his chagrin) to engage him in big philosophical conversations about survival and justice and love. Any book that can start conversations like these are worth reading. Now, I'm reading Bossypants. There's not a whole lot of philosophy, but it makes me laugh aloud on the bus, which is good for living.
Poem-a-day and I are getting on surprisingly well, considering our sordid past. I can remember the title of 1 poem I've written over the past 17 days. I don't know how many poems, in fact, I've written... Is it at least 14? Perhaps. Maybe?
Of course, none of this is what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about something with progression. Something that moved from point A to point C with a little B stop half-way through... Alas, here I am: 9:30 and ready for bed. I'll just insert some pictures to tie all of this together in a way that makes no sense.
I took a picture of this Cabbage Patch
Kid in NY. I don't understand it's pink
eye & nose. Nor do I understand its blue
cheek-dots. Hmph.
 |
| Roger, all-pupil. |
<< This little fella was in a strange, metal box attached to a telephone pole also in NY. If you know what it means, please tell me! ...I miss NY.
OK. I'm allergicking all over the place. I will eye-drop and sleep. Bis bald...
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