Wocka-wocka-wocka!

01May09

I’m listening to kind of a really funny poem by Billy Collins right now called “Lanyard.”  And because I’M REALLY EMOTIONAL RIGHT NOW (What?  Step off.), it also sounds kind of sad.

I am immersing myself in trash tonight.  Like, I just watched back-to-back episodes of Grey’s Anatomy (DRAMA!) and Private Practice (OMGZ, EVEN MORE DRAMA!) and I’m thinking about driving to the store to go get a delicious dessert, which I will at least make sure is vegan because the cake from last night was like a giant whale baby made of concrete in my belly all night.  It was difficult to wake up in the morning, and I’m almost certain it was because of that cake, which I rue.

Wow, this is a really personal blog post!  Oh, and THEN I was playing spider solitaire (which I almost called socratic seminar because that’s how indoctrinated I am in my own rhetoric), and that was pretty bad too.  Though I did win.  I don’t actually allow myself not to win anymore.  Like I’ll keep a game open until I win it.

Now I’m listening to Gwendolyn Brooks read a poem about (I think) how the power and pizzazz of presidents relies upon the work (WORK!  THAT’S RIGHT!) of people who shine his shoes and no, I don’t care that I have extreme potty mouth right now!  (Edit: I’ve removed all the pottymouthing, as it was a bit embarrassing, and…other reasons.  Sorry.) The poem is called “Behind the Scenes.”  Anyway, despite all my obvious privilege and my all things considered relatively decent-paying job, why do I feel like I spend my entire life shining the president’s fucking shoes?!?!?!?! (Edit: I needed to leave that one in.  Sorry.)

That’s what I’ll start telling people when I’m eagerly anticipating yet another fine fin de semana of sitting at home grading all day Saturday and Sunday when they ask if I’ve got plans for the weekend.  “Why yes!  And they are just FASCINATING plans!  I’m going to be shining the presidents goddamn LOAFERS all weekend!”  And yes, I know the metaphor doesn’t really work.  That’s why I’m writing here instead of reciting my Oh, Lord, BRILLIANT poems on GLT’s Poetry Radio, which just harassed me to pledge money to it, but regardless, you should all probably subscribe to it because it’s good to hear poetry.  Even if it is, in the majority, a bunch of old stodgy white academics reading it boringly.  Like this Robert guy who’s reading Frost right now…well, actually, he’s not that bad.

But the thing that gets me is that do you know that NONE of these educated, rich-sounding people sounds like anyone I know?  Certainly not anyone from my family.  Who ARE these people reading these poems?  Who are they?  Do you know what I mean?  Of course not, because I’m being incredibly incoherent.

Discordant music w/ “After Applepicking”!  So postmodern!  Puke.  Not that I actually listened to the poem because I was busy writing about how rich the guy reading it sounds.  And no, I don’t know that poem.  Or, you know, I did, or used to probably; I mean, English major, I’m sure I’ve read this super famous poem by Frost.  I’m sure it’s all very pastoral.  And nostalgic.  Hence the irony of the music choice.  Ugh, too obvious.

My point: Do you see what school is doing to me?  CONSUMING me.  Like, it’s eating my brain.  As in, school is a zombie.  Now here’s the thing about zombies that I don’t really understand and don’t care to research and DON’T GET SNIPPY WITH ME FOR REFUSING TO: So, is it like vampires, as in if they only eat a little of your brain you get turned into a zombie as well?  Or do zombie attacks never result in inanimate corpses–as in, they eat ALL your brains or a little of your brains depending on how hungry they are and either way and every way in between you become a zombie?  I’m really not well-versed in zombie lore, but I think there should be some sort of secret zombie-resistant power that, you know, only a few of us have, and no, I don’t want to just be really good at roundhouse kicks and thus prove extremely adept at wasting zombies; I mean, I want some sort of metaphysical zombie-wave that only my peculiar brand of brain can produce.  I haven’t exactly figured out exactly what effect I want the zombie-wave to produce, though.  It would for sure, however, make that really really bassy sound that is in movies sometimes that you can really only hear in the theater because there’s no speakers good enough anywhere else to convey the frequency.  Either that, or like, sparkles.

I think maybe I need to let this one go now?

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