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we the matadors
revel in sticking each other with barbs
feeling the dull thud
feeling them sink home into
muscles, sinews, internal organs
feeling them grate there
against bone--
not at all like Pamplona,
there is no crowd here
only the roaring silence,
self-satisfaction
both of us striking and turning away
for another pass--
never looking in each other's eyes
for fear the bull would turn human.
-
Beautiful outside, but Wednesday is Wednesday is Wednesday, and I have a very busy day. Bought my epic mount in Warcraft last night at like... two in the morning, thanks to Nate, and I feel like an official high-level player, but I miss my old mount, but not enough to go very slow. I'll get used to this new one. She doesn't have a name yet.
Everything melted into one giant puddle that I have to walk through three times every day, especially today, and my socks (the last ones I have before I have to do laundry, found like a golden treasure all mashed up with the underwear earlier this morning as I rolled out of bed and into my chemistry lecture, later to come back home and write a run-on sentence in parentheses [which is where statements go when they don't matter] and realize that I have degenerated into writing mostly in poems and then in nonsensical prose [or perhaps verse] when I'm not writing in poetry) are soaked.
I have to memorize a poem, sing two concerts, study for a chemistry final, and explode this weekend. I thought I'd explode first to save time, but then I realized that it would only hamper getting everything else done. I want to go to the Ash Wednesday service and vegetable soup dinner, because the concept of vegetable soup stirs up the simple parts of my soul, but I'll probably just end up working on my lab report instead.
Mostly because I don't know where the Wilson House is, and that's where the service is being held.
I can't figure out yet whether or not I'll hate poetry classes like I hate music theory classes. Or even whether or not I hate music theory classes.
Oooooaaaarrrgggghhh--I'm jealous of anyone who's dancing next term.
revel in sticking each other with barbs
feeling the dull thud
feeling them sink home into
muscles, sinews, internal organs
feeling them grate there
against bone--
not at all like Pamplona,
there is no crowd here
only the roaring silence,
self-satisfaction
both of us striking and turning away
for another pass--
never looking in each other's eyes
for fear the bull would turn human.
-
Beautiful outside, but Wednesday is Wednesday is Wednesday, and I have a very busy day. Bought my epic mount in Warcraft last night at like... two in the morning, thanks to Nate, and I feel like an official high-level player, but I miss my old mount, but not enough to go very slow. I'll get used to this new one. She doesn't have a name yet.
Everything melted into one giant puddle that I have to walk through three times every day, especially today, and my socks (the last ones I have before I have to do laundry, found like a golden treasure all mashed up with the underwear earlier this morning as I rolled out of bed and into my chemistry lecture, later to come back home and write a run-on sentence in parentheses [which is where statements go when they don't matter] and realize that I have degenerated into writing mostly in poems and then in nonsensical prose [or perhaps verse] when I'm not writing in poetry) are soaked.
I have to memorize a poem, sing two concerts, study for a chemistry final, and explode this weekend. I thought I'd explode first to save time, but then I realized that it would only hamper getting everything else done. I want to go to the Ash Wednesday service and vegetable soup dinner, because the concept of vegetable soup stirs up the simple parts of my soul, but I'll probably just end up working on my lab report instead.
Mostly because I don't know where the Wilson House is, and that's where the service is being held.
I can't figure out yet whether or not I'll hate poetry classes like I hate music theory classes. Or even whether or not I hate music theory classes.
Oooooaaaarrrgggghhh--I'm jealous of anyone who's dancing next term.