Method to My Madness
I want to be funny, I want to be mad. Madness suits me. I want the world to develop a crush on me. The whole world you ask? I say no, just my world. I wish I could fly. That’s not original. This German dude who recently migrated to the U.S. told me he couldn’t date me because I lacked original thoughts. he was bald. i’d tell him to get a wig but that wouldn’t be original hair.
i always thought I was unique. Turns out I’m a lot like everybody else.
i’m cold in the winter and hot in the summer. i like coffee and sometimes cereal for breakfast, frosted mini wheats. I unfortunately also skim Facebook on my phone when I’m on the loo. And I prefer some British lingo like loo and shag. I’m crass but sophisticated. I’m unsatisfied but I’m happy. I’m not Alanis Morsette but I have long hair like her.
I’m short but I’m pretty. I’m overweight but I’m over it. I’m lying, i’m not over it. I’m a liar but I know the truth.
These are the great dichotomies by which i live. i think i’m original but maybe you have thought all these thoughts. maybe you are just like me. you wonder if there is any rhyme or reason with which i play with my punctuation and capitalization. worse yet is my spelling before spell check. punctuation is a long word if typed fast.
I published a poem on this website the other day then edited it in a glaring way, changed something vital, in the middle of the day. I can do that. that’s so cool. It’s said that James Joyce would go to the bookstore and edit Ulysses with a pencil. this is my pencil people.
what would you correct if you could before it becomes permanent enough that people remember it?
i kind of liked the poem i posted yesterday, but i don’t think many people really got it or liked it very much. i lift the veil of secrecy and tell you about my writing process because you are in fact a part of that process. Your reactions are being recorded. they do matter, but they are not everything. Don’t ask me what Everything is because I don’t know.
I wish there were more light in me. It makes me feel heavy. Like I’m dragging through this life. I want to dance through life. There is a music in the air, always a music in the air. When we move, whether it is to walk or talk, this is our dance. My fingers dance on this keyboard.
I want to say something new, be something new. I want to be the difference between you and other people. I don’t even know who I am. I don’t understand most things. But I know this, I know there is very little to understand that I cannot understand. I know not what I don’t know.
I’m not sure what I’m saying, but I’m letting myself say. Say say say. I need this, this talk. This talk with my self or this talk with you. This one-way conversation. I ask my students, how does your paper contribute to the larger conversation about his topic. The conversation the world is having?
Some of them don’t know what I’m talking about, some do.
i barely know anything
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