Nerdy humor, birthays, etc.
So I thought this was funny. I'm looking for a book for class that I refused to buy because it was ugly and technical looking (...my true criteria for which books I'm willing to buy is revealed: pretty and poetic, apparently?). Anways, I typed in "Focused Genograms" and up came the record, so YAY!, $20 less I have to be in debt for this venture. The funny part, now brace yourself, was that at the top of the screen the prompt asked me "did you mean focused ignoramus?" Bahahaha.
Gosh it's windy out right now. A little ominous, a little fallish. Men in hooded sweatshirts are attacking our front lawn with leaf blowers, pushing all of the fallen leaves further east. It seems like a funny thing for them to be doing on such a windy day. I would prefer to walk outside and be bombarded by a swirling whirling frenzy of leaves. Perhaps today in the very heart of the city there will be one gigantic leaf pile. I think I need to go wash my hands with some ghoulish soap, courtesy of Lindsey.
I've been taking long walks in and out of the city, alone and with friends, and sometimes with my midterm flashcards. It has been quite lovely. Court's birthday celebrations were so fun as well, including taaaaasty chilli she made, hanging out, and all around good times. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, COURT!
I'm studying, studying, studying for midterms, and best get back to that now, but not before I read April's beautiful poem again. Here it is, for your reading pleasure.
I Can't Do Anything with this Dark
It's a quarter to 4 a.m.
And I can't do anything with this dark,
sleep, read, pray.
I can see only as far as the bus headlights illuminate,
along a bumpy Moldovan road,
On my was to Chisinau for clarification
or further vision.
My fellow travelers sleep
and I am asleep-awake in the twilight
world of jetlag.
This road leads past the lives of the living poor
whose barren vineyards are eery shadows-
appartitions who trail us, me, mile after mile
in this dark,
and I can't do anything
A fog settles in and not even headlights
are enought to cut through what I cannot see,
along a bumpy Moldovan road
on my way to Chisinau.
The fog breaks
The bumps increase,
We turn a corner
and I find I still can't do anything with this dark.
We pass a man walking in the night
and I wonder where he is going all alone,
so late, so early, without a light.
Perhaps he knows what to do with the dark,
and that is nothing more than go straight.
"Go straight," I hear him say as we speed by,
Our lights catching his eyes reflection,
illuminating. "Go straight," he whispers.
I catch a gleam of his life, and
breathe deeply the beauty of this,
a night when I could do nothing.
Gosh it's windy out right now. A little ominous, a little fallish. Men in hooded sweatshirts are attacking our front lawn with leaf blowers, pushing all of the fallen leaves further east. It seems like a funny thing for them to be doing on such a windy day. I would prefer to walk outside and be bombarded by a swirling whirling frenzy of leaves. Perhaps today in the very heart of the city there will be one gigantic leaf pile. I think I need to go wash my hands with some ghoulish soap, courtesy of Lindsey.
I've been taking long walks in and out of the city, alone and with friends, and sometimes with my midterm flashcards. It has been quite lovely. Court's birthday celebrations were so fun as well, including taaaaasty chilli she made, hanging out, and all around good times. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, COURT!
I'm studying, studying, studying for midterms, and best get back to that now, but not before I read April's beautiful poem again. Here it is, for your reading pleasure.
I Can't Do Anything with this Dark
It's a quarter to 4 a.m.
And I can't do anything with this dark,
sleep, read, pray.
I can see only as far as the bus headlights illuminate,
along a bumpy Moldovan road,
On my was to Chisinau for clarification
or further vision.
My fellow travelers sleep
and I am asleep-awake in the twilight
world of jetlag.
This road leads past the lives of the living poor
whose barren vineyards are eery shadows-
appartitions who trail us, me, mile after mile
in this dark,
and I can't do anything
A fog settles in and not even headlights
are enought to cut through what I cannot see,
along a bumpy Moldovan road
on my way to Chisinau.
The fog breaks
The bumps increase,
We turn a corner
and I find I still can't do anything with this dark.
We pass a man walking in the night
and I wonder where he is going all alone,
so late, so early, without a light.
Perhaps he knows what to do with the dark,
and that is nothing more than go straight.
"Go straight," I hear him say as we speed by,
Our lights catching his eyes reflection,
illuminating. "Go straight," he whispers.
I catch a gleam of his life, and
breathe deeply the beauty of this,
a night when I could do nothing.
posted by angela at 8:58 AM
5 Comments:
that's a great poem.
Are the cupcakes pictured from "The Cupcakery?"
I'm glad you found ways to walk and study! Having to study shouldn't mean being cut off from all of nature!!!
I love that poem!
Oh my land! April's poem is beautiful!
Heidi V.
Dr. Pepper bottle, lights, flower...very nice.
These lines were lovely true, even while the truth they tell is a hard one to bear:
Perhaps he knows what to do with the dark,
and that is nothing more than go straight.
"Go straight," I hear him say as we speed by,
Our lights catching his eyes reflection,
illuminating. "Go straight," he whispers.
oh...i wish for a blustery fall day. thinking of you...yes thats why i checked your blog. be well..love,
sarah
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