there and back again


I saved Latin!
August 18, 2008, 6:31 am
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What did you ever do?

Please note that today I also took my first final exam of the summer.  Two more classes, two more papers, and one more final to go!  I was also supposed to write one of my papers today but I haven’t gotten around to that yet.  Ah well, the night is young. 



Some nights I let other people write for me.
June 7, 2008, 11:13 pm
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Just got back from seeing Iron Man (for the second time) with my dad.  Such an entertaining movie.  Big Brown lost the Belmont, and strangely enough I actually have opinions about horse racing, so more on that tomorrow. For now, poetry, written by people far more talented than myself.

Hate Poem

I hate you truly. Truly I do.
Everything about me hates everything about you.
The flick of my wrist hates you.
The way I hold my pencil hates you.
The sound made by my tiniest bones were they trapped 
     in the jaws of a moray eel hates you.
Each corpuscle singing in its capillary hates you.

Look out! Fore! I hate you.

The blue-green jewel of sock lint I’m digging
     from under my third toenail, left foot, hates you.
The history of this keychain hates you.
My sigh in the background as you explain relational databases
     hates you.
The goldfish of my genius hates you.
My aorta hates you. Also my ancestors.

A closed window is both a closed window and an obvious
     symbol of how I hate you.

My voice curt as a hairshirt: hate.
My hesitation when you invite me for a drive: hate.
My pleasant “good morning”: hate.
You know how when I’m sleepy I nuzzle my head
     under your arm? Hate.
The whites of my target-eyes articulate hate. My wit
     practices it.
My breasts relaxing in their holster from morning
     to night hate you.
Layers of hate, a parfait.
Hours after our latest row, brandishing the sharp glee of hate,
I dissect you cell by cell, so that I might hate each one
     individually and at leisure.
My lungs, duplicitous twins, expand with the utter validity
     of my hate, which can never have enough of you,
Breathlessly, like two idealists in a broken submarine.

-Julie Sheehan