I’m not sure what a perpetual calendar is, what it does. It sounds like whoever owns one becomes immortal. Maybe I’ll write a story about that rather than do school work. I’m big sick of school. I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up—I’m 28...
THE EPITOME OF EPITAPH (Monuments)
Our life is as sincere an odyssey
Of glimpses, souvenirs from where we’ve roamed—
Revealed so vivid an obscurity
And tamed the world, a wilderness of home.
Our life is all reward but suffering,
A glowing shadow haunts our heart. We’ve sown
A vibrantly addictive sympathy
For those we’ve loved and cruelly left alone.
Our life pretends a secret shape in sleep,
The dawn, as drowsy, mimes our name in stone,
For then we’ll act our age immortally—
The children we will never have outgrown.
Abandoned to our slumbering, we choose
Cheerful furniture to rest our statues.
I had a silly idea today: Rather than submitting things to journals to be rejected and/or not receive responses, I would maybe leave stories or chapters from novels or poems as comments on other people’s blogs, or any website that allows comments. That seems like a punk-ass thing to do, though, and I'm sure someone's already done it to some extent, so I probably won't do that. Just a silly thought...
Hi to everyone...