February 2012
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Crystallized
afterwards we change our clothes hum magnetic on the crowded couch fingers vigilant of thighs et cetera we almost forget our coats cool starlight labels limbs our teeth click together a safe unlocking
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“What can be explained is not poetry.”
– W.B. Yeats (via bodadesangre)
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Anonymous asked: how many (and what) schools did you apply to?
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Today I
mailed my last transfer form. Out of sight, out of mind until May.
opened my mailbox to find a catalog from one of my transfer schools stuffed inside. I felt like some bizarre loop had happened in the space-time-college continuum.
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saving graces
hot breakfast
good, productive creative writing class
Heart of Darkness not being as bad as I anticipated
ludicrous, beautiful weather that allowed me to read outside for an hour
my absolute turd of a poem (the one I lamented at length last night) being in the workshop batch for Wednesday, which means I will get plentiful good counsel on how to salvage it
for the first time feeling excited...
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Poetry rant coming your way, in which the only thing that makes me feel vaguely validated as an artist and human is also the thing that makes me feel like shit and question my future ambitions on a weekly basis. Got so long-winded, but it’s all things I needed to say, if only to myself.
My assignment this week was to write a poem relating to a public person or event. And I came up with what...
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Another Oscars thing: I keep seeing all this stuff on my dash about how Leonardo DiCaprio and the Harry Potter movies are the same because they will be forever underappreciated by the Academy and tears, but you know what? I think both have received fully appropriate Academy recognition.
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kurtana:
could i get a non-fat mocha, and a medium drip for my friend billy crystal?
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desertblessingoceancurse:
when your friend comes over but all you do is sit next to each other and use the internet
true friendship
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You know that thing where you have a silly crush on someone and it kind of makes your day to talk to them even if it’s about something completely inane, so you text or Facebook or IM them to ask what the homework is for your mutual class even though you already know what the homework is, because you’re hoping it will lead to something akin to a conversation? Well, for the first time...
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Sometimes saying yes to adventures means going to party at eleven on a Thursday, in the pouring rain, in the furthest away possible dorm, to drink bad wine with people you don’t really know, then get the worst crossfaded night’s sleep ever when you have class at ten the next morning. What can you do? No regrets, just aspirin.
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nakedsushi:
regina spektor - hero
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oneprodigalpoet:
Give Me One Reason - Tracy...
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Anonymous asked: how are poems graded at oberlin? if you boil down a poem to be objectively gradable, what are the important criteria? I've always been curious. Whats the difference (in your opinion, the opinion of your peers, or the opinion of your professor) between one of your check poems vs a check plus?
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hannahhorvath:
you know our society has a giant fucking problem when two boys in bed together gets a tv-14 rating and a parental guidance warning but a boy wrapping a belt around his neck doesn’t
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Don't ever hesitate. Reblog this.
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Anonymous asked: Recommend some blogs?
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state of the union
first day of work was not nearly as horrendous as I envisioned
except that I smell like pulled pork and rubber gloves, not cute
need to memorize lines and buy hooks for my Lichtenstein
and maybe do some schoolwork but probably not
relieved that almost all my transfer forms are in order
my dashboard is drowning in Glee and I’m happy with that
speaking of which, Glee Glee Glee Glee so...
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I think the absolute most valuable thing I got out of my poetry class last semester was the realization that feedback from my peers is as important as feedback from my teacher, especially those peers whose technique and voice I admire so much. I feel lucky to have a handful of those people in my workshop this semester. I got two check-plus poems back today, and I feel good about it, but not...
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“Isabel took a drive, alone, that afternoon; she wished to be
far away, under...”
– The Portrait of a Lady, Chapter 49
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There’s definitely a graph that could express My Academic Productivity vs. Number of Chris Colfer Blogs I Follow and right now it’s dangerously close to the x-axis.