e. e. cummings funk.
So, I get into this funk, I guess, whenever I do things like listen to Sum41 or read e. e. cummings, where I want to stop everything and never ever start again, this funk where I don't want to do anything else but listen to Sum41 or read e. e. cummings.
And it's seriously a cycle, because once it starts, total apathy sets in.
Like, I'll be in the middle washing dishes or studying or something, and there will be music playing and Screaming Bloody Murder will come on - and then suddenly, I feel this compulsive urge to drop everything and listen to Sum41. It's almost instant. Everything else will cease to matter except for Sum41.
It's kind of the same thing with e. e. cummings. I'll be in french, and then suddenly everything will make way too much sense and I just want to sit in my room and do nothing but read e. e. cummings and William Carlos Williams and marvel at how something so simple and scatterbrained can be so beautifully thought provoking.
I took the ACT today. It ended at one, and literally all I've been doing since I got home is reading poetry. Lots of e. e. cummings. Lots of WCW. A little Langston Hughes. A pinch of Dickinson.
There was some Fitzgerald thrown in there too, but then he's not a poet.
It's 5:00 now, and I seriously have no desire to move off this couch.
I swear to God, the only reason I might ever get off this couch is to go to Barnes and Noble, just to go get more e. e. cummings.
You can never have too much e. e. cummings. I think the saddest part is that, unfortunately, e. e. cummings is not a renewable resource, so one day I will have read all of his works, and then there will be nothing new. But the equally beautiful part is that - since it's e. e. cummings - nothing ever loses its appeal. It's all so delightful.
This is going to turn into another one of those weekend nights where I do nothing but read classic literature, I can just feel it. And it's prom, too. If this was a year ahead from today, this would be incredibly, incredibly tragic.
And it's seriously a cycle, because once it starts, total apathy sets in.
Like, I'll be in the middle washing dishes or studying or something, and there will be music playing and Screaming Bloody Murder will come on - and then suddenly, I feel this compulsive urge to drop everything and listen to Sum41. It's almost instant. Everything else will cease to matter except for Sum41.
It's kind of the same thing with e. e. cummings. I'll be in french, and then suddenly everything will make way too much sense and I just want to sit in my room and do nothing but read e. e. cummings and William Carlos Williams and marvel at how something so simple and scatterbrained can be so beautifully thought provoking.
I took the ACT today. It ended at one, and literally all I've been doing since I got home is reading poetry. Lots of e. e. cummings. Lots of WCW. A little Langston Hughes. A pinch of Dickinson.
There was some Fitzgerald thrown in there too, but then he's not a poet.
It's 5:00 now, and I seriously have no desire to move off this couch.
I swear to God, the only reason I might ever get off this couch is to go to Barnes and Noble, just to go get more e. e. cummings.
You can never have too much e. e. cummings. I think the saddest part is that, unfortunately, e. e. cummings is not a renewable resource, so one day I will have read all of his works, and then there will be nothing new. But the equally beautiful part is that - since it's e. e. cummings - nothing ever loses its appeal. It's all so delightful.
This is going to turn into another one of those weekend nights where I do nothing but read classic literature, I can just feel it. And it's prom, too. If this was a year ahead from today, this would be incredibly, incredibly tragic.