“We’ve always been half-mad, and our writing a struggle to give voice to our brokenness. This is why we hearken to futility, failure and despair. We’re a one-person mental institution, and our posts are letters sent to a sane aunt who can make nothing of them.”—Unremitting Failure
First of all, it’s not Wednesday or Friday. But the girls were there. Ugh. And because there’s not another park close by (this is a lie, it’s just a longer walk), I sat myself at the far corner so I can write - well, edit. After they left, I claimed my usual park bench and started crossing, marking, adding, etc. to my post. It’s red all over. Like I took a knife to it. Now I just have to retype it and then re-edit it and then add more stuff, break it up into some sort of rhythm and viola! I got me a poem.
Secondly, while it’s cool, I started feeling the prickling on my skin that usually means I’m gonna start sweating and I hate to sweat. And thirdly, I couldn’t breathe and I still feel sick. No a good condition of being out and about.
I feel a little shitty that I’ve taken the 21-day poetry challenge and got rid of its real challenge. So in case you’re wondering, the challenge isn’t originally meant as a writing challenge. It’s meant as a regular challenge like all the other memes out there. You’re supposed to pick on poem a day and write a short paragraph on why you chose the poem (for those of you who actually checked my source, you should know this). I plan to do it in its original as well, but I really want to challenge myself to write a poem a day - it doesn’t have to be good and because it’s been ages since I’ve written a poem, I’m sure extensive editing will happen later in their lives.
But yeah. If you’re interested in the 21-day poetry challenge in it’s original form, just pick a poem a day (dealing with the day’s subject) and write a short paragraph on why you chose it. It’s that simple. I should probably tell my Facebook friends, hu?
“Once social change begins, it cannot be reversed. You cannot uneducate the person who has learned to read. You cannot humiliate the person who feels pride. You cannot oppress the people who are not afraid anymore. We have seen the future, and the future is ours.”—Cesar E. Chavez (via elyseface)
For me, I don’t cuss much in English, but I spit their Spanish equivalents quite readily sometimes. It’s like I forget they’re even vulgar. lol
I cuss a lot and it’s no big secret. In college, one fellow writer (he was a grad student, though) only remembered me as the guy who cusses. English is my preference of cussing because Spanish words just doesn’t fit me. But when I’m on the brink of an angry break down, the words and accent (which I don’t have otherwise) sink in. It tends to freak people out.
How many times have I stepped up to this mic and spat out my vulgarity and you have to make an apology on my behalf? Too many times have I ignored your loyalty, if not for you none of these people would have heard of me. Taking credit for this would be insanity and you deserve more than that. Too many people have ignored you, placed you on the sidelines.