Okay. Of my goals yesterday, I managed to get niether fired nor killed, get Arture's b-day gift, and have dreams that were niether evil, sproggly, nor none of that.

yay!

Stephen has been writing a lot. Just random things that he says are the result of going mad in one universe, but at least some of which is a secret creativity he's always denied posessing. I should have known he could tell a story when I saw him Dungeon Mastering...

It's strange though. He writes very short, careful poetry, and dissassociates from it completely. He thinks it's out of character.

Or, really, he doesn't want anyone to associate him with verse, so he and I are having Words about whether he ought to show it to anyone. He just doesn't want anyone to know it's him... "I don't write poetry!" he keeps saying.

Well, I can understand part of it. Poets ought to be somewhat anonymous, especially male poets. I had a book of random poetry that I liked, save that there was a picture of the author. And it spoiled the illusion so, or the fantasy, to see that face associated with those words. It made it almost embarrassing to read. This is part of the reason I have trouble with my father's poetry, though it's pretty good. I /know/ him. How can you say anything useful about the poetry of someone you know, unless you trust them as much as they trust you?

I'm scared to show Fox most of /my/ poetry. Even as exhibitionistic as I am. Though /she/ will probably get to see Q's. Heh.

This isn't to say that I'm uncomfortable with the poetry of anyone that I know. Not the girls. For some reason, it is easier to see them writing the poetry in the first place, and thus... oh, I don't know. Ity's actually easier, the better I know some people, because then I can comment on style.

Although that's a trouble right there. Style differences are so particular to each poet, how can you criticise a style? It's like mexican or italian food-- you know what you like.

Not everyone's smitten Auden and Plath, though I must admit-- I think they ought.

Ah well. Having strange E-mail conversation with Sayyadina Puma about Hate Crimes and Fight Club. This is lovely. Over a thousand miles and a year away indeed.

Spent the morning sleeping and watching Dr. Stangelove, will spend afternoon looking for a house.

Listening to "Shadow Captian", by Crosby, Stills and Nash.

I ride away like Lochinvar.

<<agé chose>>

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