Victory!
So, I've still got to do my weekly drama thing, but besides that I've caught up on Japanse, studied for tomorrows vocab quiz, studied a bit for a test I have tomorrow for Kansai art, started reading a yomimono that I missed, and I helped my host otousan make dinner. Wee for getting things done!
Speaking of getting things done, I wrote a few notebook poems last weekend on the way back from the countryside on the bus, and I thought I'd tack'em up here. The second one is particularly rough and unfinished, actually the more I read it back the more I hate it, so I'll probably be scrapping it or doing something completely different with it later:
Lines 09/29/08
Surrounded by mountains
I pause for effect -
raise my eyes to danger
above violent horizons
I keep pace with Gods and Stones
To Become stable
if my sky weren't empty
I hope you'd be the star
My secrets unfold
void-esque before you
I am over drawn -
often underwhelmed
My obligations to lonely nights
have gently passed
I may rest my gaze on nothing
and know that I am full
Name TBA
I am pressed in
(hips to heads)
and realize that
I'm the only blond in the place!
only when the globe's upside down
(and off its axis)
do you realize that there was never
an orient-ation
above all I fear
(I am fearful of)
returning home -
to a place that isn't
various concerts of dreams fall before me
but I cannot decide while concept bereft
I've got an Engrish soul, how come?
(there is nothing to hide)
Also, Ryan totally found occasion to say the first line of the following poem sometime like two months ago, and some of you may recall that I promised to turn it into a poem. I think I said I'd use a certain style, but I can't remember what that style was so I just started writing. I totally don't know his myspace address, if anyone remembers would you mind letting him know? Also, I've been keeping an eye out for abnormal vending machines (from which he requested a souvenier) and I totally can't find any. Reports of strange Japanese Jidouhanbaiki (vending machines) habits have been greatly, greatly exaggerated. Hmm...this poem didn't have a title before but now it totally does:
Vending Machine Retro Porn
We speak a dirty crab infested slut
and gnome it to own it in the morning
if you cock-a-doodle once
I'll meet you in the den
We'll die a pretty golden filthy head
and keep it fresh until the coming
let's chillax it up the ying-yang
I'll see you in the grave
Haha! The other two are kind of overdone (I blame the emos!) but that last one makes me happy, which then makes me worry that maybe I should spend more time reading some slightly tamer mainstream poets because seriously, I don't know where the hell this stuff comes from. Oh well, back to the grindstone!
Speaking of getting things done, I wrote a few notebook poems last weekend on the way back from the countryside on the bus, and I thought I'd tack'em up here. The second one is particularly rough and unfinished, actually the more I read it back the more I hate it, so I'll probably be scrapping it or doing something completely different with it later:
Lines 09/29/08
Surrounded by mountains
I pause for effect -
raise my eyes to danger
above violent horizons
I keep pace with Gods and Stones
To Become stable
if my sky weren't empty
I hope you'd be the star
My secrets unfold
void-esque before you
I am over drawn -
often underwhelmed
My obligations to lonely nights
have gently passed
I may rest my gaze on nothing
and know that I am full
Name TBA
I am pressed in
(hips to heads)
and realize that
I'm the only blond in the place!
only when the globe's upside down
(and off its axis)
do you realize that there was never
an orient-ation
above all I fear
(I am fearful of)
returning home -
to a place that isn't
various concerts of dreams fall before me
but I cannot decide while concept bereft
I've got an Engrish soul, how come?
(there is nothing to hide)
Also, Ryan totally found occasion to say the first line of the following poem sometime like two months ago, and some of you may recall that I promised to turn it into a poem. I think I said I'd use a certain style, but I can't remember what that style was so I just started writing. I totally don't know his myspace address, if anyone remembers would you mind letting him know? Also, I've been keeping an eye out for abnormal vending machines (from which he requested a souvenier) and I totally can't find any. Reports of strange Japanese Jidouhanbaiki (vending machines) habits have been greatly, greatly exaggerated. Hmm...this poem didn't have a title before but now it totally does:
Vending Machine Retro Porn
We speak a dirty crab infested slut
and gnome it to own it in the morning
if you cock-a-doodle once
I'll meet you in the den
We'll die a pretty golden filthy head
and keep it fresh until the coming
let's chillax it up the ying-yang
I'll see you in the grave
Haha! The other two are kind of overdone (I blame the emos!) but that last one makes me happy, which then makes me worry that maybe I should spend more time reading some slightly tamer mainstream poets because seriously, I don't know where the hell this stuff comes from. Oh well, back to the grindstone!