A date with a keyboard

A lot of poets secretly wish they could be songwriters I know I do. And most poets I know secretly wish they could write a long amazing novel. I know I could never. Poetry, when it flows out of me, is brief. My greatest fear is writers block.

Writers are the long distance runners in this game of life. We poets live for the sprints, and songwriters tackle hurdles of melodies and rests, just as easily as stanzas Alas, even my poetic abilities are playing hide and seek with me nowadays. And it's because I have too many ideas. I have too many thoughts and words flowing around, and they are all trying to push through the door at the same time. And I look through my poems, and I see a jumbled mess where they collapsed from the competition.

I wish that I could be like Tony Pierce and have the ability to write it all out, several times a day every day. He truly has a talent that is overlooked in this society. But it shouldn't be. Because we are the inefficient efficient capital of the world.

How much faster are we going then we should be? Will humans always work their hardest to make things more efficient, and therefore never have time to do nothing and just think? Will we always work our asses off for the sake of working more? The only time I seem to get to really think anymore is when I am walking somewhere else. One evening I am going to walk.. And I don't want to end up everywhere. I

unconsciously plan so ahead sometimes that I have developed the pictures in my mind before I have even taken them. I think that I suffer from seasonal depression. I walked home today in the mist, and I felt that jagged scar deep in my self being seared with inner Ani Difranco fervor. Who knows? Maybe I am just lonely. Yes, I am..Quite. I think I need a really good book is all. When I was little, I would fall into a book, and everything would be fine. I need characters to exchange personalities with for a few minutes. Any suggestions? People must think that I am crazy the way that I write. But this is exactly how I think.

Yes, I do use weird abstract analogies in my morning ponders about what I am going to eat for breakfast. I am very apprehensive about my birthday. Maybe because I am starting to realize that birthdays are no longer the infinite joy of waking up when you are young and there is so much to look forward to. What do I have to look forward to this year? A Monday. Having to get a job. The end of a sport that I love. For someone so young I feel that I am getting old, and that I am missing something.