I've lost it
I really have

and you're probably crazy too, stop lying.

oh man

I've been writing absurd amounts of poetry because I'm now in poetry classes instead of taking a schedule that was silly in every way and had things like sociology and economics and honestly they cannot compare to poetry.

Foucalt said that every man was born in the wrong time, under the wrong set of circumstances. I like that, I guess.

College is just ridiculous all the time - everyone has an asymetrical haircut, liberal views, complicated relationships, poetry readings, torn-up jeans and a romanticized view of the working class.

Something whimisical: there's a japanese deep-sea lily that releases its sex cells with the cycle of the moon's nutation for no reason that anyone can figure out. Organisms that have never been exposed to sunlight will sometimes spontaneously start living by the circadian cycle, meaning the solar day.
The encyclopedia says
One of the very striking manners in which the presence of fundamental 24-hour variations is reflected in man and other animals is in changing responsiveness or susceptibility to physical and chemical insults. Doses of X-rays that at one time of day can kill every individual exposed will at another time kill only a few individuals or none. Doses of powerful poisons, fully lethal at one time of day, leave animals unharmed at others. Noise that can induce fatal convulsions in mice at one time of day fail to do so at another.

So then the hypothesis is that if organisms from eukaryotic cells to human beings respond without knowledge or control to the cycles of the sun moon and earth, then the basis for these responses is encoded in DNA.

There's so much poetry in that. I wish I could learn science without the machinery and mathematics of it, damn

Legal.

I haven't been writing lately. When I first thought that maybe I was in love with him I wrote a lot, and a lot of it was tripe. Now I'm pretty sure that I'm in love with him, and I don't write very much at all because I spend all my time building a life for myself by doing schoolwork and trying to find time to visit him. I want to transfer to an Ivy League university and major in neuroscience.
Like that's going to happen.
But I'll try anyway, because I owe it to myself and to him to be nice to me in a way that'll help me down the line. Not to lower myself into a hole.
We started dating on February 26th. It's September. I don't know what that means.
We went and marched on Washington yesterday against the war, which was cool. Fight the power! Angry unwashed liberals! Ten hours each way is a long time to ride on the back of a motorcycle. But it's a big fuck you to apathy, I guess. I guess I'm pretty tired and I just wonder if there's a way to be normal and functional and to still write poetry that says something important and true. I wish I could. I have stockholm syndrome for two opposing poles, and one of them is drunken poetry and one of them is a nice engineering student and I resent them both right now.
So of course I get published.
Love me. I'm quiet.

I'm famous.

Thanks jahg

and a big friendly wave to everyone who asked me if I knew who El Chapulin Colorado was. I don't want to say "I will eat your children to stop whatever gene that's a manifestation of from spreading to future generations," but try not to get too attached to the brats.

hell hath no fury like a poet whose poem was ignored while the clever double entendre with the preview image was not only abused like a redheaded stepchild with a speech impediment, but then deleted

fiends

love adah