I used to write such a lot of poetry at one time. I wrote about the wind and the sea and the sun and the moon and your moon and my sun and our winds and their seas and whatnot. I read my old notebooks. They're a scream. What is especially startling is that the things in them kept reminding me of a lot of people I know now. Interesting, I can preempt and everything. Now I have the shivers everytime I have to write something that isn't the everyday sameold and things like the sea and the sun when stripped of floridity are infinitely more beautiful but this is a now-thing and will probably be a scream three years later, that is how we live I suppose. I wish I were more histrionic, if I had the ability to throw myself before a bus and flail my arms and declaim about life in general I'd probably be consistently poetic or consistently maudlin, emotional nonetheless. Not that I'm not declaiming about life here, but this is more on the level than, say, writing from an in-front-of-the-bus pov. It might not ever happen but if someday you see me running amok on the road singing a song in dead earnest, take a moment to pause and congratulate me, all right?