My parents are a rock star.

3 04 2007

Dear Blog,

My final paper for Postmodern Poetry class is “6-8 pages examining a poet in the Hoover Anthology vis-a-vis her or his manifesto/writings on poetics/theoretical work (unless you have already discussed another topic with me)”. It is due tomorrow. My first class is at 11:00, and then I remain booked pretty much through to the class at which this is due, which begins at 4:00PM.

I have not started my paper.

I have not even chosen whose essay to compare to his/her work.

I thought I had chosen someone, but after taking 2.1 single-spaced Microsoft Word pages worth of notes on her essay, I realized that most of her ramblings have more to do with how present-day human language sucks at describing things than how to write a poem, and in just the last paragraph or two is some indication that language has oddnesses of its own that make structured word-compositions still worth it. Now, how do I judge a poem based on that?

At least her essay was in plan English. Many of the other essays were as opaque as their writers’ poetry. Seriously, I think much of the postmodern poetry community has a severe case of Emperor’s New Clothes Syndrome.

Mom has not been online today or yesterday to give me advice or encouragement or the promise of a prayer. Thankfully, I did find a website that streams Nights With Alice Cooper live from 9:00PM-2:00AM. That actually changed my schedule today–usually I lounge around pretending to do my homework from 9-1:30, then shower and go to bed whenever I am done. Right now it is 9:28 and I have already taken my shower, so I will be ready to go to bed as soon as Alice is done talking. Good ol’ Alice, always there to fill in the holes left by my preordained nurturers. Well, almost always. And he probably has nothing to say about my paper.

Violet Black




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