i don't know why grammar. it's like the algebra of writing. it's the most boring, but most important. and i know i can improve my writing by doing this. i've no idea what i'll write about, but what better way to break the rules than to know them well? poetry isn't about grammar to me, it won't affect that. though this wordzilla site also has elementary lessons on poetry i may review, again with the breaking the rules.
and i'd like to see if i can still write "proper" poetry with rhyme and meter and such. i've long lost any traditional poetry i ever wrote, discarding it in favor of what i really do. but it would be nice to know again the rules of a sonnet so i can write one if i want. and why not? i could write a book of nice, proper poems and publish it and suck people into my real, dark poetry world. heh.
i can only read so fast, and only so much at a time. i risk forgetting it when i pile on too much. i did that last night, and ended up having to re-read a lot of it. and in the back of my mind is a voice saying, "it's Bukowski, you've read it before and you'll read it again, go on,".
there is definite movement in the storage situation. doc has been resisting going and i want my books so i want him to go. tonight we discovered that the DVDs, the few we have, are packed in with the books. that did it. he's going to storage tomorrow and i'm helping him put the book case back together. then i'll have a pie of books to read and will have to stop myself reading two or three at one time. that just gets confusing.
Anthony Bourdain just said "Shit" on CNN, he rocks. last hour he was talking to a Myanmar punk band who just want to make it to NYC. last week he allegedly got high during the taping and was high on camera. what a man. he knows how to sell-out, if you want to call what he did that. i don't. make the money. and he's keeping it like he just talking to some friends. i dig that.
felix is home for the night. yesterday he spent the day at home with me curled up on the love seat and all night out. today he spent all day out and came home for dinner, left again and came in for the night. he's perched on the couch above me. for no reason at all i just posted a picture of me and him. he's my babycakes. i miss him when he's out all night. he doesn't often sleep with me anymore, but i like to know he's around.
my faith in people has once again been seriously tested. i think it will be a long time before i let another person into my life. i really wish i could trust people to treat me like i would treat them, but they don't in real life, do they? and they take your kindness as weakness and freak the fuck out when you've had enough and finally shut off the gracious faucet. they take and take and feel it is their right. and even when they take from me, they somehow think that they are better than i am. why can't we be equal and just share?
this is why i like the Family. no one has anything and they are willing to share anything they get. we got invited over to pool lounge and got a place to do laundry from two different "brothers" this weekend. all this because we gave up the scooter to a kid that needed it and loves it. it's a small community, with no leader, no dogma, just people hanging out and showing pride in their place. i'm on the edges of it and am mostly an enigma to these people, but doc has friends now that care and are there for him. it's taken years to get in. like any close knit group.
they all stay close, no matter how far away they are. for instance, S and J are out of state, but they are as much a part of things as anyone, thanks to cell phones. it's like they never left when it comes to gossip. they are right in there.
it's better than a birth family, you have to earn your loyalty and respect, and it's better than a religion because it's real. it's better than friends because it goes deeper than that. i've never seen people from such different backgrounds do so much for each other and be so close to each other. it seemed the one thing religion was always striving for. the one thing gangs are alway striving for. families would kill for it. and in places in america, and i imagine the world over, there are people like us who have this, and we know how lucky we are.
i was going to talk doc into a fourth of july party, but i've lost my desire to be surrounded by people. even the Family, right now. i'm stinging from the sand kicked in my face.
and to be honest, i'm kind of afraid of the women in the Family. they are all mothers. i have nothing in common with them and they are tied down and can't live my lifestyle.
i used to yearn for a place to fit and now any time i find it, i feel shut in. i've been isolated for the last decade. i am really really naive about some shit. i don't trust my instincts anymore. i second guess my judgment. and i can't do that, that is all i have to rely on. i knew better, but hoped for the best. and it didn't work out and i'm stinging again, and i just don't feel like being around people.
i'll stay in and concentrate on the slam on the 12th. oh, i'm going. don't doubt that. i have a crosswalk problem to figure out to get back to the bus stop, but there is nothing i can think of that will stop me from going. alone. and feeling all the better and performing all the better because i did it by myself. and i didn't need her to hold me up, just to wake me up.
whoa. i've gone and said too much. i'll let it go for now.
doc's asleep. i wasn't supposed to let him sleep, but i went out to have a smoke and he passed out on me. his psychotic rooster alarm went off and woke him up, but he didn't stay up. he asked me why i didn't turn it off. i told him i didn't know how (he's got a new touch screen phone that i fear). so he showed me. the other night it went off and there was a blinking graphic that said "dismiss" so i pressed it and i touched it and i poked it and i brushed up against it and the psychotic rooster just kept getting louder and louder until the sound overwhelmed me. fool me. you press the screen anywhere EXCEPT where it says "dismiss". makes sense to me.
he had me playing with it the other day and told me to scroll down. i did not scroll the right way and ended up adding some funky entries into his address book. he was driving the truck at the time and couldn't pay attention to what i was doing. eventually i put it down and told him i was sorry. he pulled over into a neighborhood and sorted it, then taught me how to scroll on his phone. ahhhh . . . oooh . . . i never want one.
my experience with the laptop touch pads has clued me in that i may not be the best with a touch screen anything. which is sad and middle aged sounding for me. first it was my denial of the iPod, and where did that get me? it just got more complicated as time went on. now everything is touchy feelie and no one knows where the hell their themes are stored. i can't change the ringer on my phone and it only has two menus.
my three computers keep me more than entertained and full of information and things to do. i've recently watched someone try to use a laptop that has only been exposed to online through the phone . . . and then AFTER i got all the spyware removed from the laptop . . .
maybe that's why the new obsession with grammar (see how i circled around, there?): it is a dying art. it used to be a set of rules. i'm not much for rules, but i'll take art.