pancake morning and afternoon bird walks

After a too full plate of pancakes I worked on essays for a take home final due tomorrow. As means to procrastination before reaching two full pages, when I need eight, I looked through My Documents and found a poem instead of paying attention in class about a month ago. Here it is:

the woman frome with picnic z’s
i slept through the red pickle dish
but i like pickle forks
tiny tridents for the tailless rat under beating
floorboards heartbeats
i am working on his portrait to be turned down
by another Disney production
when you drip in
Liam Neeson irony and drool wood significance keep
slipping into air like shoelaces
from your foot smell mouth i only watch you when
your arms are cut the
skin stretched to your navel i draw
up plans to staple the armskin to the ribs and take
you out on a sunday
sundays are nice except for vomit on
sidewalks people leaving church
kite flying poppins hill
i am tearing out pages for spit paper mache tail
that’s when you call me December bear and forcep
my side and I burn your precious
yellow book happy graduation ash bag
you cry i laugh because Arthur miller is
dead forget hand shakes when rope wrapped my nervous
rash neck gratitude
educator factory woah man leaves
with no purple

I also decided, in proof of my innate desire to do homework last minute, to make an essay writing playlist. Here it is:

Have a cocktail- Action Reaction
Mozzarella swastikas- Adam Green
Never lose your sense of wonder- Yeti
Not fade away- xoxo, panda
Sky blue sky- Wilco
City wide rodeo- The weepies
The hands of men- Twothirtyeight
Beat (health, life, and fire)- Thao Nguyen
Cowbell- Tapes n Tapes
Send me on my way- Rusted Root
How come- Ray LaMontagne
District night prayer- Q and not U
Shady lane- Pavement
I saw the bright shinies- The Octopus Project
Cowboy dan- Modest Mouse
Haunts- Bark Bark Bark
The boy done wrong again- Belle&Sebastian
Endless entertainment- Bright Eyes
The cosmic door- Crystal Skulls
Lie to me- Devics
The biggest lie-Elliott Smith
Oliver James- Fleet Foxes
Marry me (tender forever cover)-Hello Shark
Little boxes- Jenny Lewis and Jonathon Rice

I finished one of the two essay questions, so four of the eight pages. So I went for a walk around 3:15. I ended up at 7 eleven, but took pictures of some fun stuff as I was leaving, on the way there, and back.

photos in order: 1.short stories of H.G.Wells with a daisy from MTW 2.me as a blur locking my door 3.locking my door 4.peter pan feet with shadow sewn back on 5.window to nowhere room outside my apartment 6.creepy light in the back staircase 7.the staircase 8.me in the alley 9.birds dance in my alley. here's proof 10&11.BIRD LADDER sign

icy procrastination

In winter, everyone seems to do this little shuffle, penguin walk to avoid falling. I cannot penguin walk. Maybe my awkward legs that want to be 4 inches longer than they are just enjoying reaching out in front of me too much to let me penguin walk. So instead I fell. Into a 3 foot puddle of ice water, that I found out when I got home was dirty enough to stain my left legs a blackish tint.

Now instead of writing the paper analyzing an imaginary client and creating an intervention for this imaginary client, I am rubbing my borderline frostbitten foot, eating neopolitan ice cream [because everything else in the apartment requires effort and time to make], and lamenting the fact that I am residing in filth right now. Even in black and white it looks atrocious.

Today, I also stained the crotch of my jeans strawberry with my thawing koolaid during my sociology of families final. While laughing and mopping it up with my scarf, my strange brazilian/british/american professor tried to mouth something to me which looked like "pickled cell wreaths". I can't be sure if that is what he meant.

Then we traded chapbooks in my poetry final. That was nice. I felt like we should have all had cider and possibly a smoking jacket on as we read aloud from our books and admired everyone else's work. One of the girls in the class included artwork by Matt Cipov, which is so amazing.

Here is some of his work off his amazing website. http://www.mattcipov.com/

smells of book dust

Another day that leaves my nose coated in book dust. I work in a library three days a week, and the best part about it is going for book hunts and finding the really old ones. The giant books filled with newpapers from 1860 that cough dust onto my work clothes and leave my hands feeling like I am 96.
Today I didn't get to find the ancient books. The oldest was published in 1992, younger than me. Mostly I passed out plastic rectangles to people for study rooms, ate a brownie with marshmallow, and talked about silk pajamas. My opinion, no good on silk pajamas, they look and feel slimy.

time to blog?

I can't tell if it's loneliness or sheer procrastination that has driven me to blogging. I guess I was tired of lurking on other people's blogs and not having one to be lurked. Maybe I want to be lurked?

So I made a blog, and named it vocal drawn polygons. I pulled it from a poem I wrote on thursday, the actual line was something about 'his voice drew squares'. We were writing in class and I was experimenting with writing similar to Anne Carson because I just finished Autobiography of Red. I don't think I was quite as successful.

I finished my first chapbook today. We're doing a chapbook exchange for class on tuesday. I've titled mine Yellow Flavored Yesterdays. I thought about a few other things, but nothing quite fit. Octopus Ink Tattooed Lips was a close second, but too long. It's a rough chapbook, definitely homemade, but I am excited nonetheless.

This is the cover.