edgarallenfrog: various pics of harvey milk (Default)
edgarallenfrog ([personal profile] edgarallenfrog) wrote2009-02-02 03:58 pm

Thanks a LOT [personal profile] jackiesjunkie

When you see this, post your favorite poem.

You do realize that asking an English major to pick just ONE favorite poem results in much weeping and gnashing of teeth, right?

Bastards.

*picks one poem at random*

So Penseroso

Come, megrims, mollygrubs and collywobbles!
Come, gloom that limps and misery that hobbles!
Come also, most exquisite meloncholiage,
As dank and decadent as November foliage!
I crave to shudder in your moist embrace,
To feel your oystery fingers on my face.
This is my hour of sadness and soulfulness,
and cursed be he who dissipates my dolefulness.
I do not desire to be cheered,
I desire to retire, I am thinking of growing a beard.
A sorrowful beard with a mournful, dolorous hue in it,
with ashes and glue in it.
I want to be drunk with despair,
I want to caress my care.
I do not wish to be blithe,
I wish to recoil and writhe.
I will revel in cosmic woe,
and I want my woe to show.
This is the morbid moment,
this is the ebony hour.
Aroint thee, sweetness and light!
I want to be dark and sour!
Away with the bird that twitters!
All that glitters is jitters!
Roses, roses are gray,
Violets cry Boo! and frighten me.
Sugar is stimulating,
and people conspire to brighten me.
Go hence, people, go hence!
Go sit on a picket fence!
Go gargle with mineral oil,
Go out and develop a boil!
Melancholy is what I brag and boast of,
Melancholy I plan to make the most of.
You beaming optimists shall not destroy it,
But while I am at it, I intend to enjoy it.
Go, people, stuff your mouths with soap,
and remember, please, that when I mope, I mope!
~Ogden Nash

I'm an egotistical bitch, so how about I also post my favorite poem that I have ever written? Even that is going to be hard. Let's see.

Chance of Rain


Trying to learn to like the cold.
Because I'm always
cold.
So I might as well get used to it.
Right?
And find something I love
in something I hate?
Isn't that the way to go?
I don't even remember why
I hate it
anymore.
It's been a part of me so long.
The cold
I'm trying to learn to like
(to love).
Trying to learn to touch
to feel
the distant things I cannot reach
a million miles away
under my skin
in my blood
my bones
my marrow
me.

So here I sit
(in this chair
in this house
that isn't home)
an empty shell longing
to be filled
with something more than
me.
Trying to think of something
else that I could
be.
I miss the feeling
I miss the flood
The rain, the pain, the tears, the blood
the bones, the marrow
me.
Reaching out
into the dark
I find something there to touch
to feel.
I wrap the blanket
tightly
and try to remember
what it feels like
to be warm.



On Monday (not today, last week) a bunch of my hair fell out. Ok, maybe not a bunch, but it seems like a bunch because it's my fucking hair and I thought your hair only fell out if you have chemo. Dr. Joyce says that it might be stress and it might be one of the drugs they gave me last time because sometimes hair loss is a side effect of those drugs. Ick. Someone who works in a salon around here offered to cut my hair so no one would notice. She cut it on Wednesday, and I thought it looked like shit (still do) though everyone else seems to think it looks ok. they can't tell I have missing hair, so that's good I guess.

Wednesday night the pastor and I were the only ones at the bible study group, so we talked, and she kind of freaked me out because she was talking about reasons why people don't go to church and it kind of sounded like she had the "they need to get over it" attitude. I blanched. I was running on no sleep, so this wasn't good. I tried to go to the GLWTFBBQ meeting, and I guess it was ok. I spent most of it hyperventilating. At the end of the meeting, I agreed to participate in a "Pride Panel" at Clark Hall on campus tonight. that's where we sit around like moogs and wait for people to ask us questions about being gay. I don't know why I thought that would be a good idea. I blame the lack of sleep.

I pulled a rug down on myself when I was stocking Thursday night. My leg twisted in a funny shape and I limped for most of the rest of the night. It wasn't as bad as other injuries I've gotten but it hurt like hell. It's mostly healed now, but my bones and muscles and joints are hurting like hell lately. Dr. Joyce thinks I have rheumatoid arthritis. He asked me if I have it the first time I saw him, so I told him how my mom was diagnosed with it when I was a kid, but she went to another doctor and he told her she had carpel tunnel which she liked better because it didn't require her to do much for treatment, so she believed the second doctor and never did anything about her bone and joint pain. I don't have money for tests, so it's basically a moot issue at this point, but I might get Dr. Joyce to write me up a letter saying what he thinks about my diagnosis so work will stop giving me shit about how I don't offer to lift and stack our heavy trash carts (we call them "shamrocks." How quaint).

I got medical bills on Friday. Apparently, Medicaid isn't going to pay them because they say the staph infection is unrelated to my cancer treatment. A friend loaned me money and most of it went into the bank to pay off the overdraft fee and then some of it went to the bills. I'm really scared about having them garnish my wages MORE than the State is already garnishing them. I already can't buy food.

I went to church on Sunday and decided that it would be a GOOD IDEA (tm) to talk to the pastor about what she said on Wednesday. Please remind me, if I ever get this notion into my head again, that talking never solves anything and stern refusal to communicate is ALWAYS better. Basically, I don't know how to read her and after our talk I still don't know what she thinks about people taking time to heal and warm up to going to church again, and I came away feeling like a tool and wishing I hadn't said anything, so I freaked out on the way home (and I mean FREAKED OUT). I tore up my church bulletin and threw it on the ground and stomped around in the snow, further hurting my legs which already hurt like hell. I knew it would be a VERY BAD IDEA (tm) for me to go home right then, because I would grab my razors, and in the state I was in, I couldn't guarantee something wouldn't happen. So I stalked around on the slippery hill outside K-mart. The pastor's wife from the roller rink church works there now, and she was working on Sunday. Heathen. For those of you who don't know, there's a lot of bad blood between us. I'm sure some of it is my fault, but much less than the ALL that they blame on me. That's the church that printed out the Xanga (a site like Livejournal) and Myspace of a gay teen from their congregation and went around town knocking on doors and telling parents their kids were in danger from this boy. I don't think he killed himself. He's one of the lucky ones. Anyway, I was so mad I couldn't articulate WHY I was mad (am I the only one that happens to? is a sentence a good thing to put a preposition at the end of?) so finally I literally pulled some of my hair out (like I needed to lose MORE) and I couldn't stop shaking so I bit my hand hard enough to break the skin. I have a cool bruise now. That calmed me down enough to go home, and I did laundry and stalked around and eventually calmed down enough to feel human again. I don't have an excuse really...my only explanation is that I've been through so much shit with churches that to put myself out there and be vulnerable again and feel like someone blew me off really fucked me up in the state I've been in the past few months. I don't know if it makes sense to anyone but it's all I've got. I never claimed to be sane. But a bite mark is a lot better than a slit wrist.

Today I wrote more in my book, and one of my LJ friends gave me an amazon.com gift certificate so I could buy food. Dude, amazon.com sells food now. I ordered some vegetable curries and I'm excited to eat them. That's been about the only bright spot in the week. Well that and my other friend lending me money. Thanks you guys, I don't want to sound ungrateful. Please don't think I am. I'm just...discombobulated. Tonight is the night I have to speak at the Pride Panel and I'm so nervous. I wish one of you guys could come with me and sit in the audience so I could stare blankly at you like a sex offender the entire time. I know I could chicken out, but I also know that wouldn't help my fragile mental state any, and I have to do this. I can't explain it. Or anything else apparently. Hey, I warned you not to read this. :-p



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