"I am an idealistic, naive, passionate, truth-seeking, spiritually motivated artist, unschooled in the science of law and finance." --Wesley Snipes

Monday, June 13, 2005

End of Summer

It's the beginning, but full of endings. Today I cleaned the songs out of my camera, which doesn't make sense, but it makes sense. I tried not to look at some photos.

I filed final paperworky things for the end of the term. I'm officially on summer vacation.

Went to my office today. Each day, more things disappear from the wall or the door. My office mate is moving out and so am I.

I pulled all my door-decorations off, including pictures of: James Spader, Frank Black/Charles Thompson, Mike Watt, Vlad Nabokov.

Went to the office of Northwest Review. No new submissions in my box. Campus is very quiet.

I think in the fall I'm moving to an office with windows. My new officemate has already warned me that he has a lot of LOTR and assorted other Tolkien material he'll plaster the walls with. Bienvenidos a la oficina del nerd.

I'll miss the couch in my current office.

I watched ten episodes of Home Movies this weekend and drank the better part of four bottles of wine.

It doesn't help that I've been listening to CDs that I made for loved ones.

Actually, though, today's melancholy is really rather hopeful. I feel good. It's nice outside.

My life in poetry is stagnant. I crave endless love and long for a good cheap bar with excellent happy hour fare.

This post is becoming ever more pointless.

I was trying to write about poetry and I didn't.

Poetry wastes me.

Poetry destroyed my emotional health. I'm not sure I can keep both.


C. Dale said...

I wish you lived nearer by; I'd go out for a drink, eat bad pub food, make you laugh, but we would never talk about poetry. Never.

Tony said...

Y'know, C. Dale, I think I'd enjoy talking poetry with you. We both edit very (aesthetically) different journals and write very different poems, but I think we have a lot in common.

Even when I complain about the destruction poetry has wreaked, I can only stay away from it long enough to write a grumpy blog post.

Go figure.

Radish King said...

Let me know if you want to run down the hall with me screaming FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!. I'm just a phone call away.

Radish King said...

p.s. No poetry talk, though. Just the screaming part and maybe some wine.

Laura Carter said...

I think I got you on "grumpy" today with my earlier post. It happens.

Laura Carter said...

"got you beat" that is, to un-de-obfuscate etc.