my first blog...well im a new meber to this site so i gess i should tell you all a little my my self.

some times i think im going crazy...well althe times. its not that i have a bad life or anything (no more stuped and fuck up then anyone elses) its just noththing is ever clear to me. feelings are hard as fuck to understand. i hope i learn hope to read them soon or i may jsut infact go crazy... . well i gess keep reading more...that is if i post more. have a good day my people

Note: I’m picking on poetry here because of all forms, it is the most elusive. But my following comments could be applied to art in general.

Maybe because I was looking for a reason to give up on what had already proven to be an unfortunate read, but this section of The Book of Lazarus frothed all the ill-will I had toward (most) poetry:

I have seen that there is no predetermined direction to the birth of a word, that words move across the page like beams of random light moving through immense voids of wandering flares. Poems are built like jewels. (pg 434)

Really?

it means nothing

and it happens that i can
playback,
and it happens that i lack clarity

but it also happens that i still remember
your eyes and ankle
in perfect
d e t a i l.

does that make it worse/better?
no. yes. it doesn't do anything,
except snap off another polaroid of anxiety.

it is the realization
that this might be all that you get.

it's sad, but beautiful
because when there's more than one
it's lost value

it's the realization that even
if you travel across a fucking tundra
there's always a chance that someone got there first

it's the realization that everything
that you dream and consider
and love

it means nothing.

really i'm just saying hello to my fellow palahniuk readers/ the only author that i've read all his books and wait impatiently for the next/ love the writing styles/ took me almost 3 months to read pygmy/ amazing/ you really think they're gonna be able to make movies of some of his novels like invisible monsters or survivor/ i just saw on imdb that they're planning on making a rant movie/ what's next a snuff movie/ that's one i'd like to see/ didn't care so much for the choke film/ it's alright/ but c'mon/ rant as a movie/ i would hope to think that the way he wrote pygmy that it will never be made into a film/ but i also thought that about rant/ anyway/ this site rocks so far/ look forward to meeting some of you/ not all just some/ not too much a people person/ my respects to all/

So, every once in a while I like to pepper obscure movie quotes into random conversations, especially conversations that I am not a part of. This morning, two teachers were talking in the copy room about things they were bringing for the Halloween costume parade on Friday:

Teacher 1: I'm bringing my radio...
Teacher 2: and Mrs. ___'s husband is bringing the microphone
Teacher 1: and my dry erase board...
Me: ...AND MY AXE!

I even dropped to one knee so as to be appropriately Gimli-height as I said this. I did the accent and everything.

...they did not appreciate my use of LOLs of the Rings.

But I'm still chuckling.

What's this blog about, anyway?

Who asks an English professor if she's read The Lottery?

My fellow class mates are the reason I skip so much school.

It was such a beautiful night,
not quite Halloween so
there was no need for fright.

The frigid temperature
almost a frightening fear
but thank God, no snow yet,
at least, not up to our ears.

The mist, oh my, must'a been
right out of a romance novel;
the crisp, dry sound of...

Nothing... Was in arms reach!

A terrible shame it was AND
still is that I, I have none,
no one to share this walk with.

Wretched and unfulfilled;
a squire of insolence
is what I shall always be.

Glorified by none,
feared only by the reaper.

My time has come to bare arms.
Not in the medieval literal sense
that our forefathers have known;
no, but to extend my arms
in the form of a cross.

Like Jesus Christ I'll be a stigma.
An escape goat for the masses to strike
and claim blasphemy when they,
and they will, that
you can believe, don't
quite understand the work it is
I, we, do.