My mangled heart is in the mountains this weekend relaxing and hangin with my church peeps. At this year's talent show, I will be reading thrift lore and one poem.
I signed up to "read poetry" but when I browsed through my recent work, it was either unreadable, too syrupy, too flowery, too obscure, or too X-rated. Upon realizing this, I decided that I need to take a step back and assess my abilities as a poet. Perhaps all of my poetry should just be for me; maybe it won't be doing the world any good in this lifetime.
My dad told me that I am probably better at my job in my current state. Being too happy would make me less able to empathize with the plight of the common person. He was digging pretty deep, but I appreciated the attempt all the same.
This week, I scored a bag full of leftover veggie burgers from a school barbeque. How's that for thrifty? It's funny how rotten you have to feel before you begin to appreciate the little things again, like not missing the train for example. That was a low point of the week.
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