Sunday, March 11, 2007

A little late-night crazy never hurt anyone. It's not catching.

Why is it that I'm most hyperactive at night? I want to work on a zine, I want to cut my hair, I want to type an Octavio Paz poem and tape it to a random person's door. I want to watch "Keeping up Appearances" on YouTube, I want to write a poem of my own. I want to clean my room, I want to bring a revolution of love and laughter to the world. I want to believe in my own power, I want to cry, I want not to deal with the fact that daylight savings time begins today, I want to finish my paper, I want to post instructions on how to kick would-be date rapists in the balls on the door of every women's restroom stall on campus. I want to learn to write with fewer clunky prepositional phrases. I want to sing arias until my throat hurts. I want to make a T-shirt that says, "I'm on my period," then wear it, and see if people try not to piss me off. I want to learn Spanish. I want to listen to the news in German, and see if my listening skills are still sharp. I want to know whether or not I got into medical school. I want to know why 14 states are having to cut funding for children's health care, while the war in Iraq and Afghanistan is still in full swing and sucking up billions of dollars. I want to know why we bomb instead of calm, why we kill instead of chill. No, I haven't been taking drugs.

I want you to know that I love you. You know who you are.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I love you too.

I know that wasn't directed at me.

Regardless, this isn't a stalker, just a well-meaning friend.

Take care of yourself, hon. I'll try to do the same.