One word for you today:
That's the word.
I wanna go watch it again now. I forgot how it got so good so fast!
Posted by hKath at 10:37 AM ()
Wednesday, May 1
I'm doing the whole "sitting at home doing nothing, thinking about going to work obscenely early" thing again. The thing is, it's not early enough to head over to my old store, where I would like to stop by, but it's too early to head over to my new store. If I did go there now, I would be about an hour and a half early.
Also, I'm hungry and alone and need a bus pass. Happy May. (Happy birthday Donna!) Where should I go eat?
Well isn't this post a little all-over-the-place?
Posted by hKath at 3:10 PM ()
That was my little poem of encouragement to me, à la "well, it can't get any worse". Well that's how it started out anyway. I kept actually intending to change it to first person but then I got to the end and realized it wasn't necessarily addressed to me. I wasn't sure who it was for. So I left it as an instruction instead of a personal manifesto. Maybe it's an instruction for you.
I feel better. Kind of. With every poem I write I get more addicted to poetry. This past month of withdrawal was hard for a while, then I started forgetting the high that goes along with the production of a poem, like the production of seratonin. Now I want more. I feel like the Living Dead roaming around mindlessly looking for brains to fill some kind of bottomless pit inside.
BLarhahrahaghghg. Give poetry. Then more poetry. Then more poetry. Then sever brain.
Oh, come on. It happens to all zombies eventually. I'm resigned to it. *shrug* I just hope that hot black guy from the first Night of the Living Dead is the one that does me in. I didn't catch his name. I didn't catch anybody's name. Actually, I didn't finish the movie. What a crappy movie. No blood at all. I sort of half-watched it while reading and eating. Yet I kept it on. Because the guy was damn hot. And because I wanted to see the little girl turn into a zombie. But that took too long so I turned it off and now she's perpetually ailing. Anyway, I'm stalling you before you get to the poem. Here's the poem.
Posted by hKath at 12:21 AM ()
Exist Between Your Moments of Decision
When life leaves room enough for you to fail
and lets your hands be coated in regret
The sting of fumbled cigarette butts on your fingers
will wear you like a well-crafted tattoo.
Exist between your moments of decision.
You spend your days with broken dishes
treading on your stubbed toes like eggshells
and wonder at the stillness of your life
all the time keeping the secret beauty of your flaws
tucked safely beneath your tongue.
Posted by hKath at 12:06 AM ()
Tuesday, April 30
I just tried to order a pizza online and failed dismally. Whatever that program was that they wanted me to get, it did not do what it was supposed to do. Oh, well. There is still a large pizza with grilled chicken, sun-dried tomatoes and black olives on its way to me as we speak, so it's all good, all good. What's more, there's a can of Dr. Pepper out there in the Pizza Pizza at Danforth and Woodycrest that has my name on it.
Mmmmmm... Doctah Peppah.
"Do you know what your problem is?"
"I'm not a pepper?"
So curiosity got the better of me last night and I went on a search to find some reviews of that book I just read, the Ethan Hawke one. The good news is, he has a new book coming out this summer after five years. The bad news is, I found out some details I didn't want to know about the first book. A lot of the time, you want characters to live in your mind. You don't want to know who somebody's writing about... it's kind of disappointing in a way. Oh, well. It doesn't really matter anyway.
So now that I've done all my screwing up and faced up and that everything has been through the fan and back again, I actually feel pretty good about myself today.
Posted by hKath at 3:31 PM ()
Monday, April 29
I screwed up again. I keep screwing up. It's getting less and less important. Let's move on.
I read Ethan Hawke's book thingee and really liked it. I was impressed. I still am. Now I get to choose which book I read next. Chuck Palahniuk or W.P. Kinsella or John McCabe or what? I went book shopping. I wanted to. All my books have the same matte cover and the same tasteful cover art and the same page layout, except the Kinsella. I feel snobby for the wrong reasons when I whine about cover art. But it doesn't change the fact that I do it.
Unbelievable. I dismissed screwing up there in the first paragraph as though it didn't matter one damn bit. But really I'm spending all my energy right now trying not to think about it. I don't want to tell you what I did because this kind of stuff doesn't happen to others, and I don't want the pity of perfect people.
You know how people say "this kind of thing happens to other people, not to me"? I don't think I've ever said that. But I often feel the reverse is true. Other people get through the steps I take in life without incident, but they seem to be breaking the path up behind them sometimes.
Posted by hKath at 11:40 AM ()