Bad poetry.

Yesterday, the rain fell on the city like crumbling walls. Luckily, I was already home, and being so charmed by the downpour, I wrote everything people have already (and more eloquently) observed about the smell, sound, taste, shape, and feel of rain. in my journal. in a poem. I read it over, knew it was crap, vowed never to write a damn thing ever again, and now its HELLO, BL0GG3RneTz! So, I started Naked Lunch, got grossed out when Bill killed the roach, and felt a little more like myself again. I felt all artsy-fartsy!

Been trying to make good in life. Saw R today, and she showed me around Columbia U. I don't really hang out there since it's too far up, but there are these cute little pockets where an intact neighborhood exists. We had Malaysian, and we talked story. It was really good for the soul to be with her, and for her to know more about me than I expected. She helped get me to a place that is more grounded, or realize the importance of it, rather.

I think that's the source of most of this discomfort: I've lost my footing. I am not grounded. This makes me write trite poems, and get all emo on rainy days. Sometimes, I feel like I should stop pretending it's something overly complex and cryptic and something I'm going through singly.

There are so many things to look forward to in the coming weeks! (Oh, my! I feel the trickle of summer coming to a halt! Sad! Kinda!) So many people coming! So many things left to want and crave! I need to haunt my haunts, and worry later.

Dag. I didn't know being grounded was that important. Turns out, it is!

ps: I don't like miserable squander-y people. But that is another story for another day.