i finally went up a level, to 9. My piece, Technicolor Angel, won a silver. That was enough to push me into the next place.
I had a very happy Valentine's Day. Doc brought me a chocolate heart with only good chocolates in it, and a bouquet of mixed purple flowers. then i slept and left him alone to watch "House of Cards", since the season came out today. i was meant to make him dinner, but I slept through it. i'll make it up to him and make breakfast tomorrow.
he's going to celebrate President's Day by buying a bed for himself! now maybe he'll sleep in his own room instead of the couch. and maybe when i get my cable box, or S moves in, i will stop sleeping on the couch.
i have to post this poem. i want to see if any of you can make sense of it. i can't. i read it, and kept waiting to not be confused. i really didn't at all get what was being said here, i only know it's a lovely assemblage of words, but i don't know if it's any more than that.
Turning circles and change of mind such total indifference!
The world may hide from us but who cares enough to remain rotated?
All alone as if the apocalypse unfolded like a Chinese fan around us.
Just like a flight of the condor set to music
Symphony of movement with each span
Natural selection becomes the lyric
The moment then becomes the choir.
Spontaneous combustion causing elation
Diatribes and funeral processions mark the place
Where science and the priesthood converge
Driven surreptitiously to their knees.
Breaking down barriers of sound bytes; such mediocrity
Boundaries breached amounting to little or nought.
Frustrations bleeding out and left floundering
Like fruitless tears
And pointless recriminations.
Gathering up their Sybil dreams
Like pulling up weeds and moving on
Anachronistic and analytical but try not to look too closely.
Another Woody Allen subplot and bandaid solution to blur the edges.
Oh! when will the tide turn and we can go home again?
And we can face up to it all; unlike
Paint spatter on walls and broken windows.
Forgetting all about past crimes and peccadillos
Crumbling like burnt paper in our hands;
They detract from the real issue."
oh shit, i just read the prompt, it was "Slam poetry" - i hope it wasn't for my contest. i kind of eviscerated the guy/gal in my comments.
the only thing between me and level 12 is 3 trophies. i'll keep trying for those. i'm waiting for several contests to be judged. i do mine right on the day they close, i don't get the people who delay it. that's just torture to the people waiting for the results.
oh, wow, the sun is coming up. it was just 12:30. guess i've been working all night. time for a smoke break and a fresh pot of coffee. doc is asleep and i have to take advantage of that because when he wakes up he is going to want the computer for his show. why did they have to release the whole season at once? don't they understand that some couples share a laptop? man.