Comatose

The sticky remains of a cheap McDonalds sundae sit in my lap. Spanish crooners vibrate in my ears because that's the only station that comes in. I try to ignore the pain in my sunburnt face, but it is impossible to ignore my scarlet complexion staring back at me in the rearview mirror. My mouth is slightly agape, and my eyes are barely open. I wonder how long it would take anyone to notice if I died. I wonder if I would notice if I died. Then I see my chest rising and falling in synchronisity with the radio's static. Oh well, I guess I'm not dead.

Images of dizzying heights, terrifying beauty, and rolling, tumbling, hardcore wipeouts float in and out of my head. I can't tell if I'm remembering these things, or dreaming them. I consider falling asleep, but then I realize that if I'm already asleep, going to sleep might wake me up.

And so I sit, trying to ignore the pain, but failing; trying to understand the Spanish lyrics, but failing; and trying to fall asleep, but failing.

Weird

At about midnight I woke up with a Hannah Montana song in my head, after dreaming about pirates with talking shoulders, not talking parrots on their shoulders, but talking shoulders. Then a little before 4 am, I woke up with a Simple Plan song, I haven't heard for years, in my head, after a rather unnerving dream in which I get drafted.

I don't know what they put in that skating rink pizza, but whatever it is, I want more

Aggravation

As you may have guessed from my last post, my computer has been acting up. Or more accurately, not acting at all. When I press the power button it does nothing. I'm hoping its the power supply, because if its the motherboard, then I might as well get a new computer. Anyway, in honor if this computer woe, I am posting a poem. I think that I will be posting poems every Wednesday, from now until I decide to change things. So then, without further adieu, I give you a poem.

Computers

Argh!

Procrastination

A little over two weeks ago I posted about my closest friend and foe, the brick. This four inch high beast, I am ashamed to admit, has made no progress, in the weeks since I mentioned it. That same day, I got my Writer's Market book, and the next week was spent combing through that. Then the week after, I mostly wasted away, on the internet. Now here I am, with a much more pressing deadline. But then again, that is what National Novel Writing Month has always been about deadlines.

The looming deadline helped me get 50,000 words into my novel. Surely a looming deadline will help me get it edited. I need to do some math. *runs off to get calendar and calculator*

Wow. In order to get this done, I need to do a page in about five minutes and 27 seconds. Then do that for two hours every day. Minus a few days for when I'm out of town, and you have that breakneck speed. But then again 50,000 words in 30 days is a breakneck speed. Now I just need to find a timer, clear my desk, and get editing. Onward!

Poems

SPY Girl was kind enough to review my HP erotic poem in her blog. Though I am a bit disturbed by this statement:
"I, having been exposed to some HP sex myself,"
Who knew dear old Harry was such a player?

Anyway, if you are looking for my HP erotica poem, scroll down. If you are wanting a link to it, then click on the title of the post. SPY Girl, if you are reading this, would you mind changing the link on your blog, to the post, instead of the imeem page?

Now that we are finished with that bit of shameless plugging, on with some more shameless plugging!

As you may already know I have a poetry slam tonight. I have three poems planned. Though I may not get past one depending on how ignorant the judges are feeling. The slam is done in three rounds. Let us assume that we have the maximum of ten poets in the slam. Everyone reads a poem in the first round. Then the five poets with the highest scores go on to the second round. Then the final round is one on one. I have only ever made it to the second round, but perhaps tonight will be different.

My first poem will be the poem that some of you may have heard, the one about the little girl dancing to the hymns. I am a little bit worried about this one. I know it's a good poem, but hopefully the judges will not have heard me before, so my reputation as a funny poet doesn't get in the way.

If you are reading this and you haven't gotten an email from me about tonight's slam, and you live in Tucson, AZ and want to come, post your email, and I'll try to send you the info. However, I don't think that's very likely.

Wish me luck with my poetry, I hope to see many of you at the slam cheering me on.

.77

Seventy seven cents. I need to find a way to get seventy seven cents by the end of the month. The reason? Well, I have my checking account set up to transfer $25 at the end of each month to my savings. And because I wasn't paying attention, I just made my checking account go under that amount. Now theoretically I could just transfer the money from my savings, but that would be cheating, and I don't want to touch my savings if I can help it. I could always just scrounge around in my room, and probably find the money, but then I have to go the bank, and all that annoyance.

I hate money.

(If you're looking for my HP erotica poem, scroll down a bit)

Guilty

A symphony of clacking keys and clicking mouses surrounds me. The air is abuzz with the collective mental energy of hundreds of students working on everything from poetry to quantum mechanics. There is food next to many of the stations and haunted looks on many of the patrons indicating they woke up just to come here and work on that huge project. The smell of coffee, ink, and college students who have yet to shower hangs in the air. Their perseverance impresses me. Their determination inspires me.

And here I am, posting to my blog.

Requested

As requested, here is the Harry Potter Erotic Fan Fiction poem. Just a quick disclaimer, and then the poem.
This poem contains explicit content and language of a sexual nature. You may be disturbed by it, you may even be horrified. There is also a high probability of hilarity and extreme entertainment. You have been warned.

Disfairitude

I am trying not to sound like a sore loser, but I should have won that Poetry Out Loud thing yesterday. I rocked my poems. Several people complimented me on how well I did them. I also heard that a few people were as disappointed with the results as I was. I got second, which is great, but the guy that won got second in state last year. I hate it when the same old people win.

The good news is that someone from my school news was there recording the whole thing. I have connections there, so I may be able to get ahold of the video files so you guys can see for yourself. I also heard rumors that the videos may be posted on the U of A website, but that seems slightly unlikely as there would be a lot of hoops to jump through.

Sorry for the depressive post. So to make it up to you, I bring you this piece of good news. I am hopefuly going to get my HP Erotic fanfic poem recorded and posted soon. I worked on recording it yesterday, and it kept coming out wrong. Hopefully it will work out better today.

Update: I just recorded the poem, and I will be posting it this afternoon.

Revelry

'Twas brillig and the slithey toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe
All mimsy were the borogoves
And the mome raths outgrabe

That is the first stanza of "Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carol. Taken alone it can mean anything, so I am choosing it to describe my day at the Ren Fair. Take it how you will.

In other news, I have another poetry event today. This is the Poetry Out Loud recitation competetion. I will be reciting Jabberwocky and Danse Russe by William Carlos Williams. If you want to read those poems Google them. They are both very popular. If you want to hear me read those poems, then you can either show up at Catalina Magnet High in Tucson, AZ from 3 to 5 this afternoon, or you can wait and hope that I might get around to recording them and posting them here.

It should be fun, and I'm pretty sure I have a decent chance of winning. I'll post about it later today or tomorrow.

Renaissance

*hoping he spelled the title right*

I am going to a Renaissance(I hate spelling that word, its Ren, from now on) fair today. I have never been to one, so I'm not really sure what to expect. I've heard tales of jesters and knights, ladies and lords, frolicking about the grassy fields of Mesa, Arizona. I hear there is chicken legs as big as your head, and bread bowls with a soup deserving of the king. Tonight, or possibly tommorow, you will hear the tales I have to tell. Until then, may your swords and arrows point true, and your heart point truer.

Hmm...

The point is not the points. The point is the poetry.

These are the words of the Chicago construction worker, Marc Smith (SO WHAT?!), the man who invented slam poetry. I do slams once or twice a month, when they have them. Tonight's slam was an interesting one. It was the Valentines Day Slam with three parts Love Me, Do Me, Leave Me. In other words love poems, sex poems and break up poems.

For the first part I did a poem about an internet girlfriend (a fictional one, I promise). My sex poem was about Harry Potter Erotic Fan Fiction. Then I did a break up poem making fun of break up poems.

The internet girlfriend one, always goes over well. But I rocked the second round, in which I got three 10s and some other scores I don't remember. Then the third round I got another ten, but the other scores were average.

There was a winner named for each round and one for the cumulative score. I won the second round with my poem. The prize was somewhat awkward (flavored lube), but it was great.

At this point you are probably wondering about the title of this post. Well I should be estatic, but I'm not. I was happy when I did the poem, and right after. I was happy when I saw my scores. But when I found out I won, my first thought was "what am I supposed to do with flavored lube?"

I realized I have reached a sort of poetic nirvana. The only thing that matters to me is the poetry, not the points. Of course that will all go down the tube when someone gives me a 2, and it hurts.