Daily Deviation
In case you missed it, Escape Velocity was DD'd last Monday. That means I need to say hello to my new Watchers (hello!) and tell everyone to go give a high five to Nichrysalis
I still kinda want to revise the piece, but knowing me, it's one of those things I won't do until ages later anyway.All this attention lately has been strange for me. Ever since making my title poem project a news article, my pageview graph has been hitting the higher numbers. It makes me self-conscious
Personal
Well, it's midterm season. Last week I knocked out the American Lit. exam and tomorrow is Postcolonial Lit. American Dream is on Tuesday, but I'm very seriously considering dropping that class; I probably could be okay, but I really took too many hours this semester. If I'm going to drop a class, that one is my best bet. It's the one I enjoy the least and am furthest behind in the reading. I just can't handle that professor twice in a row in the morning - he's VERY LOUD and has a habit of asking questions without letting anyone answer them.
Got a ton of workshopping to do for Fiction. 17 stories, all between eight and fifteen pages. We're only workshopping two a day, but I'd like to be fairly ahead on these. Luckily, workshopping is what I'm good at
Minnick told me not too long ago that I would make a magnificent editor; his book is about 80% done at this point and he'd like to get it done by May. He's also recording the next batch of radio scripts on Friday, so I need to finish up the ones I owe him before then.All of that makes me sound busier than I am. I actually took Saturday completely off. Left the house around noon and didn't come back for some eight or nine hours. Gorgeous day yesterday. I got to wear flip-flops
Spent the day in craft stores and Barnes & Noble, grabbed some Chinese, dropped by campus, and eventually ended up at Grandma's place. The lack of support for my feet meant my legs were aching later, but it was a pretty good day.Today I finally decided to get up sometime around 1:00 - though I guess it was really noon? Daylight Savings confuses me. Been raining all morning, which is all the excuse I need to laze around in bed. Maybe I'll make some toast later.
Around dA
The Saturday Spotlight is on Lacewinged-Beauty this week! projecteducate is taking a look at poetry this month. Have a look at this article on some Eastern poetry forms and another on SciFiku. The Review Project is back! If you didn't participate last time, you should fix that thorns is stepping down from her CV position. Which leaves me with the question of what is going to happen to the metric ton of DD suggestions I sent her that haven't been looked at >.> Am I allowed to send them to someone else now? SixWordStories is holding a contest - open theme! Comment Contest over at ProjectComment! Christianonfire7 has a contest revolving around a ghost in love. DailyLitDeviations has a few positions open if you feel like helping out around the lit. community 
Finally, I'm looking for point and prize donations to get a contest going over at TheTitlePage. Hopefully that will generate some interest Features!
One day I'm going to learn how to stockpile these things.
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JanuarySeventy-six degrees.
We watch yesterday's ice
melt like the tears of winter
and pool in the divots
of the thirsty earth.
I want to go puddle-splashing
barefoot with hiked-up jeans
and you grin and tell me "Do it!"
You and the rain
are my best of friends.
We'll keep that our secret,
even when I catch a cold.
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Strawberries.
When his bare feet hit the cold tiles, he inhales deeply through his nose.
The bathroom smells like strawberries.
He starts to smile, but it quickly switches to a frown. He knows the smell is wrong, that it has no place being in the bathroom anymore. It hasn't been in his bathroom for months. His eyes shift toward the shower, the plastic curtain pulled open halfway. The only things there are his -- his shampoo, conditioner, body wash. Nothing that even remotely smells like strawberries.
He sighs, turns to the sink, and goes about his typical morning routine.
After a shave and a shower, he goes to the small kitchen and pours a hot cup of coffee. He sits with it, staring into the black and caramel colored swirl. It smells like...
-
Strawberries. Ripe, plump, and a beautiful bright red. A small bowl -- only half full -- sitting on the windowsill, the afternoon sun warming them and bringing out the scent.
She's laughing, the sound ringing in his ears. Her eyes are closed tightly, small tea
In barren hearts of fools I call my friendsIn barren hearts of fools I call my friends,
An unrich flower grows; a farmer's rose,
That blooms whichever way air traffic sends
This steerless seed, adrift without repose.
Their lands be arid, acres reft of life;
A dried up desert, nemesis to growth;
Still grows that poppy, overcome all strife
With enemies all other life does loathe.
And though the daffodils might mock its leaves,
The noble rose resent its nimble throne,
No haughty flower has its red outshone;
Cause while these bourgeois plants, uptight, tide well
Inside their wealthy master's garden cell,
All these will wither, wealthy care deprived.
Coin 49raindrops gather:thumb354151161:
in the open palm
of a fallen leaf
To love like a rocking horseYou are the highlight to my lonely night. You rush my mind like young currents rising onto the shore. I have no feeling in my fingertips and the air is thick and heavy and almost sweet. But these past few months have given breath to the void that lives in all of the empty places; space between ribs, backs of knees, and collarbone indentations. Oh, if only your body could bridge the gaps.
You know, I am sick of writing about you, nauseous actually. I don't want to smoke your pipe only to get high off loneliness anymore. The way I have ached for you, the way I have pined, is effervescent. Do I want you only because you are not mine?
No, I remember how the connection was instant and how looking at you made me nervous. Then when you first looked at me; chills.
I really do need to get over these feelings though. I need to detach my heart from my spine and stitch up the places I let your soul embrace. I need to patch up the places where your light touch took me away.
Screw all of this. I don
