I've been writing poetry about my roommate's cat lately, just in passing. Like not on paper or in a Word document. Strictly in my head.
For instance I saw her in the window yesterday and thought,
I am a cat in the windowin that I am the window.A single purpose toolto frame this felinethey call innocence.I am a cat in the windowin that the window is meand I appear transparentso that it may use meto view the worldand vicariously live in itI am a cat in the windowin that the cat is smaller than meand I am much bigger than itand it should quit messing with my shit like scratching up my couchor knocking things off my deskor peeing on my clothesor forgetting that I'm way stronger, smarter and better than it.And it chewed through some of the wires behindmy computer and I have to find a new ethernet cableto plug into our modem, and it's like ughhhhh....you don't understand that these things havemonetary value. I don't have a lot of money right now, so I can't be wasting grocery money eachweek to go buy a new Ipod charger.
I would never say I'm a poet or gifted in any sort of prose writing, but after I pumped this little Anne Bradbury out I figure I'm probably really gifted at poetry too. Like all the other stuff I'm good at. Not specifically basketball or anything, but I am pretty good at basketball.
Anyway, I've run out of things to say, so I should point out that the Laugh Attic open mic is tomorrow night, upstairs at Boudreaux and Thibideaux's.
Show starts 8:30,
18+,
no cover
That's like the only other interesting thing I have to update about. I won't be there though. I should also point that out. I have to work. Gross.