#6: Give 'em enough rope

Feelin' like a bit of a dope.

Strange day. Got up early. There was an early rehearsal for Breakfast Club, but I didn't have to go since it was for the second half which I'm not in (although I do have one line near the end, so I'm sorta in it.) Still, I showed up at the end (just in time for that line,) to try and scam some free breakfast. After that, I wandered to Tim Horton's for a double-double (toil and trouble not included?) And on the way back, I got to thinking. And the thinking got my a bit depressed by the time I started hanging out with Becky in the Caf. And she was about to drag the reason out of me (or so I suspect,) when who should arrive but a Scott Conorton, with a bit about how everyone seems to be in a bad mood, and he finds that upsetting or weird because he's in a good mood. How very astute of him. Ironically, thanks to his entrace I never did get into a diatribe and actually managed to cheer up some. He even tried to help me on the Hamlet test, though I am unhelpable - I just can't work with quotes, and that's the bulk of the test right there. I reckon I got about 60% but it's quite possibly less. Not that it matters, but it's disheartening.

So Emma was to have this "transvestite party" tonight, and strangely or not I actually was going to go. I felt like maybe I needed some retarded-ass fun out of the house tonight, but I just could not get any accomodations (no ride, no drag-wear,) and thus had to give the whole thing a miss. I feel so retarded for that, too, but these things happen.

In Writer's Craft, while I was supposed to be doing something else (though nothing in particular, so it's okay,) I randomly composed some "Beat Poetry." Wanna hear it? Okay, but it's terrible...

"(Love) Blood"

Blood pools in my brain
Driving me mad
down the road
to defeat.
Cut-off circulation
in cut-off jeans,
pins and needles
sew
designs
of hateful lust
in fashion.

"Italic World"

Italic World
Everything slants
and I can't
stand
relax
slow my heart
beats
beating borscht
beating up
beaten down
beat the clock
with its own
slanted hands.

Thank you, thank you, thanks for humouring me.

Like I said, I need to get out more. Unfortunately, the universe doesn't want me out.

And in case you're wondering why I was down, it shouldn't be hard to guess. I was just beating up on myself more intensely than usual.

I re-wrote this story I wrote for Writer-S craft. And when I say re-wrote, I don't mean I minorly tweaked it. I changed the narrator. Not the narrative - it's still first person... but where it was originally from a student's point of view, it is now in the point of view of a teacher watching the events unfold, so it has a strange sort of detachment. I actually like it better now, and it should work better if I've done it properly. Which I may not have at all.

Okay I'm through for tonight. Still upset about Emma's thing though - kinda wish I could be there, would like to be among friends now. Oh well, I'll find some way to make it up to her.

Meanwhile, you keep on rockin'
-Scotto