Under the weather

feeling slightly under the weather today.

I have managed to pick up the dreaded week six cold, which in uni terms means that I will be sick on and off for the rest of the term. There are both perks and consequences to this. Finally I have an excuse to slack off and not do anything. And then consequently I now have an excuse to slack off and fall behind. Yay. I love life.

God I haven’t written properly in weeks and am feeling very stifled. So far my plan to have Amazing Things finished by 2009 doesn’t look good at all. I thought doing a creative writing degree would inspire me. I keep telling myself that I have to settle in, but I’m not sure. I’m a hopeless case really.

I have however been writing a lot of poetry at them moment, thanks to one of my introduction subjects. I my hand at sonnets for a while, but was sure that somewhere Shakespeare would have been turning in his grave. I gave up promptly. It was something about my juvenile rhyming that got me in the end. It is exactly the reason I gave up song writing. The day that I wrote a song about someone going to jail was the day it was time to give up. I think my ode to a fictional soldier in World War 1 might be end of closed form poetry for me.

I did however manage to get in touch free verse last week, which was quite liberating. Channeling some sort of unconscious stream of thought I managed to pen this:

It is icy cold in the depths of consciousness

Where dreams are but the folly of a young girl swept away

By the tide of a righteous dream and a self sacrificing illusion.

I feel myself drowning again and again in the

Pain of the past and the torment of its loss.

Was it worth it all in the end?

The impenetrable drive?

The emotional dive?

All the bitterness and rage of life unfulfilled?

To my voice I answer yes, and it caries on the wind

Licking the landscape around me and echoing to the depths of the future blunt night sky.

I walk to the river to watch my last breath and then I crawl along the sand, a bodyless soul.

If I could have a second skin I’m not sure I would want it.

Do we ever have enough evidence that a second change card would really be any different?

That I would fit into your steel covered cage if I were your mirror?

Life is different without the broken perspective of body borders

And internal conflictions of organs, feelings and scars.

I am wrecked but I feel whole.

And I like it better this way.

I will be the first to admit that it is nothing groundbreaking, but god it felt good to get it on paper. I have a critique meeting tomorrow so we will see how that goes. I don’t like letting others read my poetry. It seems to personal to me – an a mindset I really need to get out of. You think as an advertising student I would be used to people critiquing my ideas but this is so much different.

Anyway, I am finally off to the Andy Warhol exhibit tomorrow (leaving it to the very last minute as it closes on the weekend). I planned to set the beginning of Amazing Things there and finally decided that I really should suck it up and go. Plus I have to go and get my Cervical Vaccine as well so it will be fun day all round.

Needles, critiques and Warhol! Oh My!

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