(no subject)
the party DJ is playing Missy Elliott and it makes me real happy. i have such a crush on her, no lie.
i was talking to someone today about we both don't write anymore. i've lost faith entirely in my ability to feel something so much that i have to write about it. i'm taking a creative writing class, and words are coming out but i know how much they don't matter. the last copy of my zine from high school is now lost. but i was looking at it earlier and i miss that kind of fresh adolescent writing. it wasn't angsty, i don't think. more so just overly passionate and romantic and hopefulness to the point of having a bitter aftertaste. i dont' write anymore, let alone things that i would read again and cry from. i guess maybe sometimes with papers, but not those really either. she has faith that i'm still a poet, and really it was crystal i was talking to. she said that's one of the reasons she fell for me, not necessarily the Writing, but the Poetry. Poetry as a world view, as a particular way to observe people, situations, and nature. I definitely don't have that anymore. i don't know where it went, college what did you do with it? maybe that kind of Poetry only exists with immaturity, if so-i wish for immaturity. but the safe kind that is all energy and extreme sensitivity and no self-centeredness and retrieving pieces of the world only to use for my own personal advances. She says that when we're in Kenya, I should write a poem everyday. how exhilarating and daunting that would be. a poem each day, and make it a special project, that's what she's going to do, but she's a creative writing major. she's a writer, the kind of writer that even though she goes through dry spells, she still has this deep deep resevoir that's always running somewhere inside of her. and it just takes something to spur it and all she can do is write and write and open new documents for the scraps. she says she's not disappointed that i don't write so much anymore but i know that can't be true. even i'm a little dissapointed. but i need to keep her because she still believes i'll publish an anthology someday. that's the kind of person you need to stick around. the one who fell in love with the Poet and will wait as long as it takes for your anthology to come out. how did i get so lucky?
i was talking to someone today about we both don't write anymore. i've lost faith entirely in my ability to feel something so much that i have to write about it. i'm taking a creative writing class, and words are coming out but i know how much they don't matter. the last copy of my zine from high school is now lost. but i was looking at it earlier and i miss that kind of fresh adolescent writing. it wasn't angsty, i don't think. more so just overly passionate and romantic and hopefulness to the point of having a bitter aftertaste. i dont' write anymore, let alone things that i would read again and cry from. i guess maybe sometimes with papers, but not those really either. she has faith that i'm still a poet, and really it was crystal i was talking to. she said that's one of the reasons she fell for me, not necessarily the Writing, but the Poetry. Poetry as a world view, as a particular way to observe people, situations, and nature. I definitely don't have that anymore. i don't know where it went, college what did you do with it? maybe that kind of Poetry only exists with immaturity, if so-i wish for immaturity. but the safe kind that is all energy and extreme sensitivity and no self-centeredness and retrieving pieces of the world only to use for my own personal advances. She says that when we're in Kenya, I should write a poem everyday. how exhilarating and daunting that would be. a poem each day, and make it a special project, that's what she's going to do, but she's a creative writing major. she's a writer, the kind of writer that even though she goes through dry spells, she still has this deep deep resevoir that's always running somewhere inside of her. and it just takes something to spur it and all she can do is write and write and open new documents for the scraps. she says she's not disappointed that i don't write so much anymore but i know that can't be true. even i'm a little dissapointed. but i need to keep her because she still believes i'll publish an anthology someday. that's the kind of person you need to stick around. the one who fell in love with the Poet and will wait as long as it takes for your anthology to come out. how did i get so lucky?