Totally gone

OK, my following appears to be totally lost. Well, what do you expect? I was contemplating losing this whole thing. It is really a distraction in my life now. Then again, I just love doing it so much. I really want to write you a nice thought-provoking post, that will MAKE YOU LOVE ME! It will be about graduate school, analyzing some of my favorite musical artists in the car, and my weekend, and how I collect friends and places that are truly special. Instead, I feel I need to finish reading a book.

I will mention poetry, briefly. I am not the biggest fan of poetry, mainly because I find that many people tend to make it an excuse to place overly ornate wordings that in an attempt to hide that they are dealing with a rather dull subject. Like everything else, if you are not starting with something worth telling, then there is never going to be a reason to tell it. Personally, I am crap at poetry, unless it is the whimsical kind. I have to be feeling particularly silly to inspire me to craft verse. This rarely happens. I did find a couple of love poems that I wrote back in college. This was 11 years ago, and I was only 18, but you can guess what had come over me. As for the subject of the poems, I hear she is doing well, but I lost track of her years ago. Thus is life.

The first one is just what it is. The second one describes my first night in college. Needless to say it is full of inside jokes, so don't try to interpret it too closely. No, seriously, if you assume too much it will be a highly misleading poem.

Poem 1:

What can I say, my sweet little elf,
that gibberish girl I found on the shelf?
Through miles of silly, I wrestled my dear,
only to find that I like you here.

Poem 2:
Staring face, almost full moon,
skunk in stars, and old friends gloom,
down the hill, to the skipping place,
that's where we ran the blind man's race,
sheep in sky, on green hills graze,
as do we, in blinded daze,
while men with born insanity,
watch us beneath the dogwood tree,
in the cold, we cling so tight,
though the fire will burn all night,
under the chieftain's watchful eye,
the terror of the night slips by,
in the new dawn's light hands clutch,
loosing fortunes as they touch,
was it with girl or woman spent,
upon a night so innocent?


Look back on it, it would make a cute illustration, but I also feel that some of the visuals are overused. I guess some things are obvious, some are misleading, and some are understandable to those who where there. Still, I love that last couplet, it is a nice little kicker, to give direction to everything.

Anyway, I think the reason why I am posting this is not nostalgia, but rather because, I don't write things that I have to perform. Poetry is an odd duck. It is written, but in order for it to be appreciated, it must be read properly. There is a reason there are poetry readings. You've never heard of a cartoon reading outside of a Farside panel. If you have not heard of the Farside, then educate yourself. Gary Larson is my personal idol.

I am not one to perform my works. I craft, them and put them out there. That is why I am fine with writing stories, but I an not really inspired to write poetry. The exceptions are when I want to read them to a specific person. Then I am fine with writing them. Hm, that is a thought, stories are how I express myself to the world, as I don't like reading my stories to other people or really discussing my comics (except for technical feedback). My stories and comics are for the world and very impersonal to me (yet still personally meaningful). Poetry, however, is very intimate to me and must be given to the person for whom it is written. That explains a lot. It also explains why I don't write that much. I just don't form that many personal connections. It also gives me a much deeper appreciation for those who are willing to write it and put it out there as they are being personal with the world. (Although, I will always be a harsh critic on the technical side, and I will argue that your emotions are irrational and you conclusions are unfounded. What can I say? I am a jerk.)

There is my rant. I have a book to read.