...on campus today:
"Why is it always so hot in this city? It's just gay!"
Before we go all wierd with the nudge nudge, wink wink, they were cleary discussing the weather. But with a profoundly underdeveloped vocabulary. Since when does heat=gay? Since when does anything other than tra-la-la, either happy or lifestyle-wise, equate to "gay?" I'd prefer a "This sucks!" ala Butthead over "It's just gay!" any time. You're in college, people. Learn to use your words.
Now I will climb down from the lofty height of my soapbox and ramble on to something else.
I had a severe new pencil moment in class today. All freshly sharpened and ready to go, and me with nothing to write. We weren't in note-taking ode. I had to doodle just to work off the edge of the creative drive. Dang.
Studying poetry always makes me feel inadequate. Attempts I've made at poetry always feel to me like they come out contrived, like I've tried to force what may have been a perfectly good idea into an uncomfortable girdle of language. I fancy myself an essayist, although you'd never tell it from the drivel posted here. I do kind of get a kick out of haiku. The very brevity of it makes you choose your words very carefully. You can make it silly or serious, depending on your mood.
Haiku is a lark
I could get addicted quick
Don't get me started