The Most Scatterbrained Yet

Monday morning I did nothing sensible, and scampered off to school. There came the high-light of the day, a 6 on my SK essay. (With an "at last!" from the teacher.) I had somehow managed to pour water over half the contents of my bag, including a few books and rather vital notes. Then I had a minute to get to the group, where my attendance was expected at 14:15 - I got there at 14:14. Tuesday almost well before lunch, with the exception of not showing up to a test. I had to run to catch the buss, and when I got there, lo and behold, I had not one left and one right shoe, but two left shoes.

Today, I convinced myself that the lecture began at 11:15, rather than 10:15. Ingenious, of me, no? Applaud, Darlings, for I am utterly scatterbrained this week. I can't help but laugh exasperatedly at myself, there is nothing else to do.

(And, by god, "Days of Our Lives" is so badly acted it pains me to watch it.)

The Most Scatterbrained Yet

Monday morning I did nothing sensible, and scampered off to school. There came the high-light of the day, a 6 on my SK essay. (With an "at last!" from the teacher.) I had somehow managed to pour water over half the contents of my bag, including a few books and rather vital notes. Then I had a minute to get to the group, where my attendance was expected at 14:15 - I got there at 14:14. Tuesday almost well before lunch, with the exception of not showing up to a test. I had to run to catch the buss, and when I got there, lo and behold, I had not one left and one right shoe, but two left shoes.

Today, I convinced myself that the lecture began at 11:15, rather than 10:15. Ingenious, of me, no? Applaud, Darlings, for I am utterly scatterbrained this week. I can't help but laugh exasperatedly at myself, there is nothing else to do.

(And, by god, "Days of Our Lives" is so badly acted it pains me to watch it.)

Writing

He leaves his coat on the chair, the one to his left, where someone just left another coat. And approaches the stage, where someone just put the microphone back into its stand. He reaches out and touches the microphone, the one someone just proclaimed their drunken love of some bartender into. And he opens his mouth, the one the girl in the back would so much like to stick her tongue into.

"I know what the problem with amateur poetry is: they don't know what they're doing. They don't know how to create rhythm, how to write a sonnet; they don't know how to allude; they have no sense of the world, they have no experience; they don't even read poetry other than their own. And, worst of all, they write in English."

Writing

He leaves his coat on the chair, the one to his left, where someone just left another coat. And approaches the stage, where someone just put the microphone back into its stand. He reaches out and touches the microphone, the one someone just proclaimed their drunken love of some bartender into. And he opens his mouth, the one the girl in the back would so much like to stick her tongue into.

"I know what the problem with amateur poetry is: they don't know what they're doing. They don't know how to create rhythm, how to write a sonnet; they don't know how to allude; they have no sense of the world, they have no experience; they don't even read poetry other than their own. And, worst of all, they write in English."