It seems I've got a cold following me through the vast expanse of a three-day weekend, but yesterday was still a bona fide good day.
The weather was beautiful, but I was feeling a bit beneath it and so was a bit reluctant to go when Hannah called to ask about a walk. Didn't take long for me to realize that I'd be a fool not to enjoy sunshine and company when both were available, though, so I changed my mind and went. We took a meandering detour or two and tried out the swings and undersized playground equipment in the area where we'd briefly taken shelter in the past summer's glorious rainstorm. And talked, naturally (I say "naturally" as if things were always that way; how easy to forget). It all seemed a bit surreal, but wonderfully so.
Today, church was a drag and the uninvited residents of my nasal regions went on the offensive. I wish I could see the conflict so I could cheer on my antibodies... go, guys, go! Rah, rah, rah!...
But no school tomorrow, and that certainty eases a Sunday's passing.
I was vacuuming last night and started getting little lines of verse running through my head, and wrote them down so I wouldn't forget. Later, as is the convention, I realized they were crap and tossed them into the trash. I think one of the tricks to writing good poetry is to write stuff that isn't specific to a single, narrow mood and mindset. Not that there's not loads more to poetry than that, but that's the first big hurdle for me.
I think when people write flurries of bad poetry it's a sign that their glands are belching.
posted on Sunday, October 05, 2003
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