All the Horrible Girliness

There's so little to post that is true and safe that I haven't already written to my brother.

School is nice. I have only thought about my writing past twice in the last few weeks, and never while actually in class. If the subject came up, I'd have to think about it, jar my head back into my life, to answer truthfully. When I'm in class, I'm utterly focused on the material, on getting better, on finding the nuggets of good stuff inside even the worst of my classmates' poems. I was scared of bad poetry before, but now I feel like an archeologist. I've read some dumbass poems, but they always have some good idea in them, somewhere. Almost like their souls manage to get their message out, even if it's just one line or word, even if the writer has to write all around it and over it and under it to get there. Some of the poems look like gorgeous little girls covered in crazy tattoos.

One guy adopted me, or so he thinks. I adopted him, on the first day. I love it that he's already capable of busting out of cliche, and editing, and I can tell he loves to read. He reads and reads. Now, I'm afraid all he needs to do is sit and work, and fuck up, for a long time. I just hope the substance abuse doesn't get him before the masterpieces come out.

Anyhoo, he picked me to partner up with and rewrite one another's poems. It'll be harder with his stuff than it would be with bad stuff. Bad stuff, I can just go wild and show off. With his stuff, I'll have to think about it.

It's nice to be around all this literature, but it's making my letters to my brother too literary. He seems to like them, though.

posted by Samus @ 12:55 AM