Gone after inspiration with a club, be back for tea

Poetry (I’m Too Prosaic for This)

So I wrote a poem. It was weird. I don’t do poetry. But it wasn’t working as a story, so I went and experimented. I also tried it with “cunt” for “fingers”, but “cunt” doesn’t have enough syllables and “pussy” is iambic and I needed a trochaic word (also, logic: how does one reach over a riverbank with one’s cunt? I do not know), so I’m unfortunately stuck with the less vulgar version.


Tantalus in the River

I am Tantalus in the river,

and by your hand I cheat the gods.

With my mouth I bite the air below the peach,

crack my teeth,

bite my tongue,

starve in the shy water.

But from your fingers I lick sweet nectar,

and my belly,

so full of warmth,

no longer cries.

School is About to End, One Way or the Other

I have eaten so many M&Ms today that the roof of my mouth is covered with tiny cuts.

It’s very uncomfortable. 

Well, that’s what I get for being me. I can’t concentrate unless I’m eating something. I think it’s the sound of chewing, and the repetitive movement–together they drown out distractions. Half a pound later, though, the candy coating makes itself known.

Tomorrow, the Peer Review draft of my final paper is due. I will remember enough statistics to get something passable in, and then I’ll remember I’m not done and want to kill myself for a few hours, and then I’ll get the fuck over myself and fix the thing up to better than passable. Like I do every semester.

And then, when I get it in, whether I get that diploma I (read: my mom) paid for or not, I’m going to have a party. I’m probably going to be the only one there, but I’m going to eat cake and drink coffee like a champ, and possibly blow out a few candles. Because I’m never doing this again. And even if I fall on my stupid face again, and nobody in my family can look at me for a few years, that’s reason enough to celebrate.