It's not always that feeling like you identify with a Catullus poem is a bad thing.

But with certain ones, dear god, it is.

The main problem I have is every time I get somewhere new I just want to leave.

Forgive me, livejournal. I told you, once, that I would not write these sorts of entries anymore, but I guess I was lying a little bit.

I guess I was just fucking wrong.

This is a fragment from Sappho, and it is very pretty ( Read more... )

I'd like it
if you were
my sonnet

Or the apodosis
to a conditional
never supposed

I wrote this entry before I wrote the title, this time.  It's usually the other way around.

So I got an e-mail from my department tonight, finally.  At 9:40 at night.  My department chair was still not sure if I was in town or if I was attending.

I have been registered since July.  I have since received not only the Chancellor's Fellowship, but ( Read more... )

But who wants to hear about things like this?  Ephemeral, unsettling nonsense that I spew out and out and out and it's hard for me to make sense anymore ( Read more... )

So, my friend Michelle sent me a poem on a whim.  Michelle and I have been friends since FOREVER in college and we've taken a lot of English classes together.  She's one of my better friends, and she knows me REALLY well, especially when it comes to my poetic preferences.  Anyway, she sent me this poem today and I have to share it, because a)It's ( Read more... )

Pushing through ethereal fog and gasses, I wonder how it is that everyone else I know has so much going on for them.  I left my dead-end convenience store, and for a day, I slept and wondered and played guitar, and I came to the conclusion that no one really knows what's going on with their own world.

I think I may know more about the surface of the ( Read more... )

I'm so nervous lately.  I'm so nervous that I have a neurotic, brilliant cat.

I'm getting my cat a cat.  I am opening this entry with tangible things: cats, neuroses, did I mention I'm moving into a new climate at the end of the summer?  Semi-arid.  I've been a humid sub-tropic my whole life.  I've never seen a tumbleweed.  I wonder how they move.  ( Read more... )

I feel like I only have a couple of ways to open a journal entry, and the unfortunate thing is that I'm totally okay with that.

I, like you, have wandered in the desert of my own decisions, and when I leaned against the saguro, I felt no pain; no pricks, no points, no sharp ends to remind me of all the stupid mistakes I'd made.  Grades, tests, ( Read more... )