I had an awsome time last night at the poetry meeting. It was great -
most of the same people that I meet in the regular room were there and
it was just us. No bad poets, no insane "go to my webpage" urls stuck
in, the room didn't get so crowded that we had to start a new one and
invite certain people, and then split again when THAT one got
crowded.... There were approximately 10 of us there with others popping
in and out. I was slightly disappointed that not more of the older
members showed. It was mostly new members, those I had already met.
But, this saturday there is another meeting and so I am hoping I will be
able to share my work with some new people.
It's absolutely crazy you know. They've got me so wrapped up in my
thoughts these days that I can barely sleep. My brain is so exhausted
that I feel it should explode. I'm seeing things in a new light -
trivial things (like that whole lint poem) I'm making ordinary things
into works of art. (how good they are is entirely relative) I'm coming
home from work with hotelroom paper in my breastpocket, scribbled with
interesting phrases. I'm moving from one particular style, to various
styles. I'm finding that my work is expanding from completely personal
to worldly, meaning that I am writing things that don't necessarily have
to do with me and my personal experiences.
I am
okay.
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