True story, one of my teacher's called me the "Title Tsar" just because he liked them so much, I was proud of them, they were funny and relevant to the piece and I don't know, I just lost the skill one day and never got it back. I hope I do get it back someday, it'd be cool if I could.
I think I'm getting too obsessed with Jack Kerouac. I was reading William Wordsworth today, and I was reading about how his poem "Tintern Abbey" was written years after the fact and it was unedited and no joke, I thought, "Wow, he's like an old-timey Jack Kerouac!" I think I'm becoming gay for Jack Kerouac. I think I once said that when people inspire me, it's because I fall in love with them, and if I haven't once said that, I'm saying it now. Perhaps love is a strong word, but it's the only way I can describe it, I guess, I don't really know, I can't explain it, but to me, inspiration is a kind of intimate thing.
Anyways, I did another day of Hourly Haikus. I'm kind of scared it's becoming an obstacle in my life though, and it's only been two days. I kind of feel like if I get too obsessed with writing a haiku every hour, I'll forget to do things worth haiku-ing. I don't know, I guess I'll see, I want to have at least one day where it'll be hard to do. One day that I'm doing stuff besides going to class and reading all day (like the past two days have been). The true test will be if it could survive a night out.
The good thing is that it's making me write on here every day, which is cool.
(12:34 am)
Drinking beer
and regretting
nothing.
(1:46 am)
Poems about cats
are sad when
you don't have one.
(2:13 am)
Facebook and
X-Men - Flowers
grow outside.
(3:00 am)
Sleep sleep sleepy time
to the exuberance of
Lee Joseph Molnar.
(12:50 pm)
Talking to my
parents on the phone in
my underwear.
(1:18 pm)
William Blake
was hella
depressed.
(2:30 pm)
Shady guys in
hospitals - cut to
ghosts giving birth.
(3:44 pm)
Reading Wordsworth
- dude knew
his shit.
(4:38 pm)
Wired on coffee
and terrified of the
Ancient Mariner.
(5:35 pm)
Hail is
nothing but
asshole snow.
(6:46 pm)
Terrorful poems
with bemusing
pictures.
(7:24 pm)
Old man in
glasses talking about
innocence and childhood.
(8:34 pm)
Cuddling with
my pretty girl on the
phone with her mum.
(9:47 pm)
Listening to
the fugitives with
my fevered girl.
(10:17 pm)
I mess up
the symmetry in my
apartment.
(11:48 pm)
Watching Paris'
New BFF with
no sobriety.
I'm pretty sure most of these are terrible, terribly things. OH WELL!
3 comments:
Haikus follow 5-7-5.
I beg to differ. Yes, classically, in the Japanese tradition, they are 5-7-5. However, I follow a more Kerouac school of haiku appreciation. Mainly, that English is not a subtle enough language to justify this limitation. In fact, most English translations of classic Japanese haikus don't fall into 17 syllables. Western haikus kind of need to be divorced from that archaic and limiting form, and I think the only way to capture the spirit and essence of haiku in Western language is to simply make a 3 line poem that distills a moment. This may sound cocky, but it's how I justify and appreciate haiku right now, this may change.
I was always jeloce of your titels
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