SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Wednesday, Feb. 05, 2003 @ 1:47 am
Adaptation



Today was the first time I've heard my neighbours send their child into the bathroom and shut the door. They were discussing something over supper and she was howling away. They did give her three chances. Kids.

I don't think this is supposed to make me snicker.

Apparently the power went out in the building today as my microwave is blinking 12:00. This means that my answering machine message has been reset to the robot voice: Please Leave Message Beeeeep

Message 1, 4:30pm: "Hi it's Dad. Who is the man on your answering machine??!!!! Click."

Tonight I essentially drove her downtown to visit The Boy. It was super fun. See below:

He asks, "Have you read LOTR?"
I reply: "No, it's on that list of Books to Read... you know.. along with Bridget Jones and the Bible."
His reply: "Oh man, there are some good parts in the Bible, like, where Jesus turns water into wine. As if he wasn't an alcoholic! Nows there's a trick I'd love to be able to do. Yeah, I'd be stoked."

It's really late. I have a meeting in 7 hours. And yet I start laundry. It's an excuse, really, to stay up and think and write.

I hate how I post some entries without even rereading what I wrote. Typing is a release of thoughts and emotions... instead of poetry, now, I feel like I am just writing crappy, unstructured prose. I never follow those rules of grammer and punctuation. And I know that it impedes whatever I am trying to say. Sometimes I read back and think "Hey that's not bad!" and then I think "Imagine what you could do if you edited and refined your work!" Would it ruin it? Would it suck the emotion out of whatever flowed from my brain to my fingers?

"You had hot chocolate? Do you know what chocolate does to your ass? I don't want a girlfriend with a fat ass!"

Well, I bet he doesn't like me much. Guys. Kids. Snicker.


Roots | Shoots