Belated Challenge, Accepted in Passing

Week of 11/5 in Sagittarius: The poem that is written about the sun is waiting for you, but you have to write it.

Astro Poets (@poetastrologers), 11:41 pm, November 5th.

Write it? Ah, no. However, I was able to scrape one together out of spam.

much elegance neglected
decay winding a peculiar
ballooned heart
convinced it was mistaken
breathing on all these dirty windows
fogging them blind gold

-11.6.2017, posted today, because I’m trying to psych myself up for tackling my statistics homework by taking care of random things that I didn’t get to during the week1, and I found this sitting in my drafts folder along with another draft post that I just decided to delete.


1The past few weeks have seen me unable to get to my homework until the weekend, chiefly because my body likes human normal amounts of sleep, and my brain’s beginning to (reluctantly) concede that (maybe) it’s not an idiot.

Take Inaccurate The Palm

Yesterday was my actual birthday, as opposed to the day-that-wasn’t-my-birthday-but-my-birthday-present-arrived-so-I-opened-it-day.

I now have a alien bunny from Jonathan Rosenburg's Scenes from a Multiverse (http://amultiverse.com/) staring at me when I'm using the home office.

I now have a alien bunny from Jonathan Rosenberg’s Scenes from a Multiverse staring at me when I’m using the home office.  That there’s a bunny with a quill and my favorite Heinlein quote1 beside it may or may not be a coincidence.  (The quill-wielding bunny came from a long-ago birthday card from my aunt that contained my second favorite quote2 from her.)

I’m older than probably anything in your closet, if you must know, but still younger than dirt.  It was a work day and I still don’t have a sitter for the Monster (though we’re working on it), so @bhoneydew and I went out for a nice sushi-based lunch, during which I managed to confuse our waitress when I asked for a tamago roll for dessert instead of anything that was on the dessert menu.  Hey, it’s Japanese egg custardy crepes!  Why is that not considered dessert?

I am happy to report that I have not forgotten how to use chopsticks, and I also managed to get absolutely nothing on me while using them.  Small victories, man, small victories.

Speaking of victories, here’s a birthday gift from me … kinda.

If you know me, you’ll know by now (and if you don’t, you may have guessed) that I get inspired in a non-useful way by odd things, and sometimes, those odd things get stuck in my head to the point where I need to inflict them on other people in order to get rid of them and get on with my day. And when it’s a really terrible, horrible sticky useless inspiration — poetry can result.

I’m sorry.

Today’s aggravation (and the title of this post) came from a line in one of the spam comments I deleted this morning.

Take inaccurate the palm
Good fortune is cheap to say
And bad fortune too expensive to mention
Say caution
Caution!
Caution and care are useful for everyone
A little is danger, spice and wanting more
Too much is a floppy cardigan one settles for
Even if the wind cuts through it

1“Writing is a legal way of avoiding work without actually stealing and one that doesn’t take any talent or training” – Robert A. Heinlein, The Cat Who Walks Through Walls.
2“Don’t reach for the stars.  Say ‘I already did’.”  My favorite quote from my aunt is “It’s my nut, and I’ll go off it if I want to.”

Track of Sleep

Almost a month here, and, knock on wood, the Monster continues to sleep soundly through the night in his own room.  He’s only awakened me three times since we’ve moved.

The first time, the first night we were here, Bad Quiet awoke me at 3:00 a.m. Monster wasn’t anywhere in the house.  Fortunately, he was too tired to go for an adventure:  I found him sitting on the front step staring at our cars parked in the driveway.

The next day, we had a house alarm system installed.

As a consequence (what @bhoneydew is calling “a good thing”), I’m not waking up at 4:00 a.m.  Or five a.m.  If I’m lucky, I wake up at 5:30, but, damn, most days I’m sleeping until the alarm clock goes off, and on more than a few, I’ve slept until @bhoneydew gets up two or three or sometimes five snooze cycles later.

As a consequence, the morning “free time” that I’ve been relying on for, uh, way too long now, is evaporating … and sure, I’m getting more stuff done because I’m better rested, but, why do I feel like it’s lower quality stuff (and certainly not creative stuff, unless work writing counts) and I’m always running behind?

Maybe I just need to increase my coffee intake, like I’ve had to increase my allergy meds (translation: take them daily, instead of just when I feel my eyes starting to swell up). Or beat my head against the wall enough to get the poetry I’ve been plagued with lately to Go Away.  I’d like the ear worm to come back, please. I’d even wouldn’t mind if it was the stereo ear worm I get sometimes.

Falling behind
And falling apart
Not always the same thing
But always the start
Of catching up
And climbing on
While wondering where
The track has gone.

Evening Ruminations

Just some randomness that got stuck in my head during this evening’s yardwork.

Now that I’ve shared it, I hope it goes away.

Here
There is a train
Close enough to hear
Through siding scaled walls
There are still tracks
To be on the wrong side of
Here
Thistle tears through new sod
Offering white flowers
To my unsuspecting neighbors
I put on gauntlets
It shall not flourish
Here