I like poop
After sitting back and being in a relatively good mood for the last eight hours of yesterday, I realized that the reason I was so foul-tempered and genuinely just angry for no good reason had to do with a lot of things. Actually it has to do with everything.
Sometimes the "big picture" as Tess so aptly put it tonight, just gets too overwhelming. Normally, I am able to combat this with a healthy cynicism, but a day or so ago, I just sort of lost the ability to do that. I would even go so far as saying sometimes you need a slightly unhealthy cynicism to fight complete and utter resignation to the world.
But I'm cured! I bombed my poetry reading last night with the first political poem ever...but at the same time, it needed to be said. Yes, it wasn't subtle, but I realized afterwards that it's something that can't afford to be subtly approached anymore. I also realized that it's the first thing I've done in doing anything to act against society for the institutional and societal inequity held towards Aboriginals. I don't care if they hated it, or what, but the fact was that I read it in front of total strangers. Not all of them tuned me out, and maybe one person got thinking about it (I know they did, I got approached by a person afterwards). And that was completely inspirational.
Alas, I have homework to do. I also have to work on writing "the greatest poem ever." I'm going to have a hand at a few of them over the weekend. I'm up to two already to pick from. Hopefully I have something decent by Wednesday, because I'm fairly certain I'll actually be completely broke by then, because of an expenditure at the bookstore today. I had a gift certificate, and I got "The Outlaw book of American Poetry" (something I've been salivating about getting) and the last copy of a Bukowski book I haven't seen before (older stuff). I couldn't stand the thought of someone else buying it. I had to. You don't understand.
Ok. Homework = go time.
Sidenote: found
something that was utterly hilarious here...I didn't know that pooping in one's pants or peeing in one's bed (and letting it stagnate for an amazing number of days) was a fetish. Oh sweet naivety!