random.nebulous.honest.speak

i am feeling overwhelmed as of late… in that ‘doing a lot but not feeling like i am doing enough’ type mood… the end of the year recitals killed me… i will never look at a five year olds award ceremony the same way again… i am getting the hang of my job… my boss is a real teacher and i feel like i am learning a ton from her… i drank too much last night… the bartender was being hella cool with us and saying ‘no’ felt like an insult to his generosity… it is a good thing that i cant hold my alcohol… if alcohol does not improve your performance on stage- you should really stop drinking before reading… if it does improve your performance but you are a belligerent drunk- you should leave pretty much as soon as you finish reading… if alcohol does not improve your performance and makes you a nuisance- 12 steps, thats all im sayin’…. the first time jess saw me read i was piss ass drunk and delivered one of my best performance ever… the next day i decided that if being the best on stage meant four drinks beforehand- poetry was dead… getting piss drunk and then going out into the crowd was how i learned to dance at clubs… this may explain a lot if you have ever seen me dance… thought of smoking weed once to improve the poetry… ‘it lets you step out of yourself and look at your work from the outside in while still being true’… hmmm… ‘no, i cant sleep a wink without at least two puffs’… ok, that idea is dead… my mom respects that i have sacrificed for my poetry… that means tons people… i have gotten better at not responding to emails right away… people love not being themselves… dont ask for opinions, you just might get them… “poetry is just a giant coin with only two sides- bad poetry & good poetry. you’d be surprised as to where i think my work lands.”…. if you ask me to look at your poem and i give critique- its cuz i like it… if you ask me to look at your poem and i have little to say… i didnt go to college long but my mind acts like i did… i have a massive headache… having a book doesnt make you a poet, it makes you an author, there is a difference… when you do a friend of a friend a favor, thanks arent necessary- its just fuckin common sense… nebulous posts are whack… i might be in love with someone whose name i will never tell you… moving seems like a valid idea from time to time… this headache wont quit… there are still at least half a dozen persistent thoughts in me that will become poems one day…. one day is the most nebulous measure of time there is… i am doing too much… i am not doing enough… maybe time to do something different… i wish i could paint… or sing… or play the guitar… would love to play the guitar… something to hang close to the bed and turn to instead of SportsCenter… i am not lonely simply for the reason that i am not that accustomed to being with someone…