Entry = too long. I was feeling pretty horrible most of the day, really messed up over something. After Annie answered my question I felt a lot better. Mine was the only question she answered which is pretty rad. It wasn't even at the top of the list. Thanks Annie.
But for various reasons I'm back to feeling pretty horrible. I may as well change my name to CruxFeelsLikeShit
But for various reasons I'm back to feeling pretty horrible. I may as well change my name to CruxFeelsLikeShit
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
UMM HELLO 
How's THAT for two utterly unexpected name changes in a row? In case you missed it, I was "CruxIsPathetic" for a couple hours. Bad day. And then Annie steps in as if she could sense it, to make my day so much better Annie is DA BEST
In this entry you get to read a couple poems I wrote several years ago. BUT FIRST!!!!
New greasemonkey extension for Firefox by yours truly!
NoControl and I were talking last night and he mentioned his frustration at accidentally logging out when he tried to click his username on SG. That has happened to me too, and I know it's happened to others. Then I realized I could do something about it and said "omg!"
Get greasemonkey and right-click to install the Stop Logout extension.
It pops up a dialog box whenever you click "log out" asking whether you really want to log out or not, and will tell you to hit "OK" to log out, or hit "cancel" to stay logged in.
YAY!
So it appears my SG DVD has finally shipped! Given the disinterest I mentioned previously, I'm not sure how much enjoyment I'll get out of it. But it ain't just about the girls looking sexy and half-naked, there are interviews in there too that should be awesome. And watching Pearl do the hula hoop thing is gonna rock. Hell, I bet I'll love the whole DVD from beginning to end. jonnytrrrash7 tells me my former crush Flux isn't in it ("is Flux in it?" she asked fluidly. Look I did a swiftie! Not a very good one though.) When I initially wrote this I speculated to whether she was in the trailer(s) and I didn't recognize her because I'm not used to her blonde hair. That borders on skeezy right there.
So I unearthed some poems I wrote some years back. You know, I actually burned the bulk of the poems I had written from '97 to about '99 or 2000. I wasn't feeling good about that time in my life so I wanted to destroy the evidence. That makes me pretty sad because some of it was probably pretty good. I'm never destroying things I make again. If you see me about to, stop me. The stuff I wrote after the poetry bonfire is pretty good, and I'll show you an example or two.
I want to start writing poems again because I know I would be good at it. Two poems I wrote got into my university's literary magazine in separate years. I was two for two; those two were the only ones I submitted (I think).
Anyway I'll give you the favorite of the ones I unearthed. It's pretty sexy, and I don't usually express that kind of thing so I think it's kind of captivating. (I almost said "compelling" but I use that word too much and I think I'm misusing it anyway.)
"jacket" - 8/14/00
It's in a jacket
when there's nothing else
but hard-packed dirt
and the blood of dying leaves
the way you wear it
is barely.
It comes to rest on you
because you want it to
a part of the feeling I get
is that part you choose to wear
and my need
for you
to take me there
I don't like "is barely", and curse that shoddy ending! I may up and rewrite that part
Ah, look at that, the poem turned 5 years old three days ago.
I want to start writing again. And hey, I just discovered the first poem that got published in my university literary magazine. ......Why on earth did they publish that crap? Ugh, that's no good at all! Needless to say you won't be reading that little number any time soon. The second one they published was much better. Much much. Oh hell, here, read it (the second one).
"well-traveled" 12/31/00
I would take me with myself on a trip
coarse like burlap and gliding on wheels
sleepily signing in the cold morning air
across the sidewalk
stammering on rippled plastic
I wouldn't really have a say in it.
I would be told to go and would,
as I could
with a tag on my wrist
never connecting the consequence
of falling open, spilling out.
stirred from a deep sleep
I persist with a sense of purpose
and a lack of direction
blaming myself for some fatal flaw,
some defect, but never connecting
never really seeing
what was happening until it was too late
and I would be sent back home,
tight-throated and stunned,
badly treated and well-traveled.
I felt rather guilty that this poem got any attention, because I was writing about being mistreated in a "more than friends" relationship, something I had never (and still haven't really) experienced. I kind of felt I was bullshitting.
Here's the low-down on the dorky imagery. The poem is sort of from the perspective of a suitcase being taken through an airport. And I guess you can call it personification because the "I" in the poem IS the suitcase. "I would take me with myself on a trip" is, in a way, referring to the emotions you take along when you're in a relationship. BAGGAGE, if you will (groan).
Where it starts to get moderately interesting is "never connecting the consequence / of falling open, spilling out." Now, I wrote this almost 5 years ago so I don't completely remember all the meaning I put behind my words. But the imagery is of a suitcase "falling open, spilling out" which I'm making parallel to something messing you up in a relationship... and more importantly your not being able to figure out why. HMMMM
"Stirred from a deep sleep" I have no idea about. I really don't know what I meant specifically.
I mean, the poem remains rather vague, and that's probably one of my failings as a "poet" (if I can call myself that). I took a lot of inspiration from one Stevie Nicks, whose imagery is famously cryptic and convoluted. Just you try to interpret "Edge of Seventeen". YOU WILL FAIL
So yeah that's the poem in a nutshell. I like "jacket" much better, don't you? Well, I'd say "well-traveled" is a little more... consistent. But "jacket" is so much hottttter.
By the way, I specifically meant a sweat jacket.
I wrote that poem in 2000, WAYYYYY before I'd heard of Annie, so don't worry, it's not an "I love Annie and want to have her babies" poem. And I promise you, swear to God, I will not be writing Annie love poems. Even I wouldn't stoop that low. If I refer to Annie in verse it'll be in an extremely indirect way. Chances are if I venture down that path, I won't be sharing any of it with you. It's just better that way. Trust me.
But who likes poetry anyway? Answer: NOBODY! Okay that was cruel and untrue. I have a friend I just got back in touch with after many long years, I started writing poetry because of her, and she because of me. To this day poetry remains one of the most important things in her life. I really can't balk at the power of verse like I just did. Shame on me.
But I really have to wonder what people think about poetry. I get the impression it's only a very small part of the population that gives a crap about poetry. And I also get the impression that those who don't like poetry REALLY don't like poetry. So if the two poems I just posted made you want to gouge your eyes out with a tuning fork*, I'm sorry. But hey, if you actually read them, score one for you, and if you liked them as well, score two.
* I make up phrases like this a lot. Is there a word for those? Like a specific term for that particular kind of phrase?
I really have to wrap this entry up because once you hit four pages in Word, you know you've written too much. You knew I write my journal entries in Word, right? The file I'm saving this in is "entry49.rtf". Don't ask me why I use Rich Text Format, I don't really know. I guess because I started writing my entries in WordPad then got pissed off when I lost an entry that could have been captured with Autosave.
Yadda yadda yadda, that's all for now.
How's THAT for two utterly unexpected name changes in a row? In case you missed it, I was "CruxIsPathetic" for a couple hours. Bad day. And then Annie steps in as if she could sense it, to make my day so much better
Annie is DA BEST
In this entry you get to read a couple poems I wrote several years ago. BUT FIRST!!!!
New greasemonkey extension for Firefox by yours truly!
NoControl and I were talking last night and he mentioned his frustration at accidentally logging out when he tried to click his username on SG. That has happened to me too, and I know it's happened to others. Then I realized I could do something about it and said "omg!"
Get greasemonkey and right-click to install the Stop Logout extension.
It pops up a dialog box whenever you click "log out" asking whether you really want to log out or not, and will tell you to hit "OK" to log out, or hit "cancel" to stay logged in.
YAY!
So it appears my SG DVD has finally shipped! Given the disinterest I mentioned previously, I'm not sure how much enjoyment I'll get out of it. But it ain't just about the girls looking sexy and half-naked, there are interviews in there too that should be awesome. And watching Pearl do the hula hoop thing is gonna rock. Hell, I bet I'll love the whole DVD from beginning to end. jonnytrrrash7 tells me my former crush Flux isn't in it ("is Flux in it?" she asked fluidly. Look I did a swiftie! Not a very good one though.) When I initially wrote this I speculated to whether she was in the trailer(s) and I didn't recognize her because I'm not used to her blonde hair. That borders on skeezy right there.
So I unearthed some poems I wrote some years back. You know, I actually burned the bulk of the poems I had written from '97 to about '99 or 2000. I wasn't feeling good about that time in my life so I wanted to destroy the evidence. That makes me pretty sad because some of it was probably pretty good. I'm never destroying things I make again. If you see me about to, stop me. The stuff I wrote after the poetry bonfire is pretty good, and I'll show you an example or two.
I want to start writing poems again because I know I would be good at it. Two poems I wrote got into my university's literary magazine in separate years. I was two for two; those two were the only ones I submitted (I think).
Anyway I'll give you the favorite of the ones I unearthed. It's pretty sexy, and I don't usually express that kind of thing so I think it's kind of captivating. (I almost said "compelling" but I use that word too much and I think I'm misusing it anyway.)
"jacket" - 8/14/00
It's in a jacket
when there's nothing else
but hard-packed dirt
and the blood of dying leaves
the way you wear it
is barely.
It comes to rest on you
because you want it to
a part of the feeling I get
is that part you choose to wear
and my need
for you
to take me there
I don't like "is barely", and curse that shoddy ending! I may up and rewrite that part
Ah, look at that, the poem turned 5 years old three days ago.
I want to start writing again. And hey, I just discovered the first poem that got published in my university literary magazine. ......Why on earth did they publish that crap? Ugh, that's no good at all! Needless to say you won't be reading that little number any time soon. The second one they published was much better. Much much. Oh hell, here, read it (the second one).
"well-traveled" 12/31/00
I would take me with myself on a trip
coarse like burlap and gliding on wheels
sleepily signing in the cold morning air
across the sidewalk
stammering on rippled plastic
I wouldn't really have a say in it.
I would be told to go and would,
as I could
with a tag on my wrist
never connecting the consequence
of falling open, spilling out.
stirred from a deep sleep
I persist with a sense of purpose
and a lack of direction
blaming myself for some fatal flaw,
some defect, but never connecting
never really seeing
what was happening until it was too late
and I would be sent back home,
tight-throated and stunned,
badly treated and well-traveled.
I felt rather guilty that this poem got any attention, because I was writing about being mistreated in a "more than friends" relationship, something I had never (and still haven't really) experienced. I kind of felt I was bullshitting.
Here's the low-down on the dorky imagery. The poem is sort of from the perspective of a suitcase being taken through an airport. And I guess you can call it personification because the "I" in the poem IS the suitcase. "I would take me with myself on a trip" is, in a way, referring to the emotions you take along when you're in a relationship. BAGGAGE, if you will (groan).
Where it starts to get moderately interesting is "never connecting the consequence / of falling open, spilling out." Now, I wrote this almost 5 years ago so I don't completely remember all the meaning I put behind my words. But the imagery is of a suitcase "falling open, spilling out" which I'm making parallel to something messing you up in a relationship... and more importantly your not being able to figure out why. HMMMM
"Stirred from a deep sleep" I have no idea about. I really don't know what I meant specifically.
I mean, the poem remains rather vague, and that's probably one of my failings as a "poet" (if I can call myself that). I took a lot of inspiration from one Stevie Nicks, whose imagery is famously cryptic and convoluted. Just you try to interpret "Edge of Seventeen". YOU WILL FAIL
So yeah that's the poem in a nutshell. I like "jacket" much better, don't you? Well, I'd say "well-traveled" is a little more... consistent. But "jacket" is so much hottttter.
By the way, I specifically meant a sweat jacket.
I wrote that poem in 2000, WAYYYYY before I'd heard of Annie, so don't worry, it's not an "I love Annie and want to have her babies" poem. And I promise you, swear to God, I will not be writing Annie love poems. Even I wouldn't stoop that low. If I refer to Annie in verse it'll be in an extremely indirect way. Chances are if I venture down that path, I won't be sharing any of it with you. It's just better that way. Trust me.
But who likes poetry anyway? Answer: NOBODY! Okay that was cruel and untrue. I have a friend I just got back in touch with after many long years, I started writing poetry because of her, and she because of me. To this day poetry remains one of the most important things in her life. I really can't balk at the power of verse like I just did. Shame on me.
But I really have to wonder what people think about poetry. I get the impression it's only a very small part of the population that gives a crap about poetry. And I also get the impression that those who don't like poetry REALLY don't like poetry. So if the two poems I just posted made you want to gouge your eyes out with a tuning fork*, I'm sorry. But hey, if you actually read them, score one for you, and if you liked them as well, score two.
* I make up phrases like this a lot. Is there a word for those? Like a specific term for that particular kind of phrase?
I really have to wrap this entry up because once you hit four pages in Word, you know you've written too much. You knew I write my journal entries in Word, right? The file I'm saving this in is "entry49.rtf". Don't ask me why I use Rich Text Format, I don't really know. I guess because I started writing my entries in WordPad then got pissed off when I lost an entry that could have been captured with Autosave.
Yadda yadda yadda, that's all for now.
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xoxo
(Hi, I'm not gonna be on long, gotta go to work and give mom ride to Midas, but- hi)