Friday, February 17, 2006

What the Fuck is You Rambling About Today?

Call me a voyeur. Call me a dropper of eaves. Call me a cactus. I really don't care that much in the end, but I should tell you, there is some crazy shit to be exposed to just by sitting around listening to people. For instance - as I sit on the couch at my home away from home, there's a 20-year-old kid at a nearby table talking to his preacher. I call him a kid, because he looks like he's still in high school. He's not what I would call big, but he's tall enough and looks like he's been in a fight or twenty, like a mechanic. In fact, that must be it. He reminds me of the guy who was in my graphic arts class and worked, for a time, at the Shell Rapid Lube, near the Buffalo Grille in Oak Ridge. I wonder whatever happened to him. Anyway, from the bits and pieces I've picked up, he spent a little time in prison for stealing a car and he's talking to his preacher about redemption and all that stuff. Now that's some heavy shit. I think politeness compels me to say no more about the ignorant bastard's conversation. Still, I find myself thinking, "FUCK! This guy's lived a Life!"

So, I'm down to 6 hours of school now. Economics was going to take far too much work and dedication for me to care at this point. And as I'm not going to get my teaching license, why get the accreditation to teach economics anyway? Fuck it. I'm having far too much fun with Creative Writing and Shakespeare, and I think I'm better for it. As much of a struggle the whole poetry thing has been, I have to say that I really have come to enjoy poetry. The stuff I get, I love. The stuff I don't...well, I tell those wanky pretentious fuckers to eat one.

Dr. Braggs (or Brakk as Lunchie calls him) says that everything that has been written about has already been written, which is pretty much the only point of disagreement we have. There's plenty of stuff that hasn't been written about, we just aren't conscious of it yet. Yeah, there are a zillion love poems, a billion poems about death, at least one about fathers (kuz I wrote it), several about pain, some about pets, a lot about sports, and far too many about fuckin grass or leaves. The trick though is to use fresh language and to look at things in a different way, and that's what makes it interesting. I can agree with that. It makes sense. But this "everything that can be said, has been said," shit just doesn't fly with me. I think it forces you to assume that everything that everything that has been experienced has been experienced too. Ya know what? There isn't enough Science Fiction poetry. Come on, Unkie Harlan! I think that would be some interesting stuff.


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