A Brief Gazette

Somebody please help me knock this thing out

I don’t have any heroes

Valiant and bold

I’m not riddled with self-loathing

And hostility is old

I’m not wired for self destruction

I’ve never been to jail

I’m not in love with innocence

I’m not convinced I’ll fail

I’m not recovering from addiction

Assault, illness, or abuse

I’m not depressed or hating life

I’ve never paid my dues

I’m not obsessed with pain

Or from the tough part of town

No one’s died near me lately

And I’ve never yet found God

Somebody please help me knock this thing out

As you probably noticed, there was no post last week.  I was otherwise occupied with the intricate details of my school life.

Well, all right, it wasn't that bad.  But ye gods it wasn't good.

A few weeks ago I ended up taking ill enough that I missed most of my studying time for my Body Parts and Functions Class.  For those of you who have never taken such a class, allow me to summarize: this is Hot Death.

I showed up for the exam, though I felt like a three-week-old tuna sandwich, figuring that any points were better than no points.  The Prof was cool, surprisingly cool.  He took me into his office and made me an offer: take the exams a week late (one week to study, plus the few days I'd already spent), and then take the next one on time (one week to study, no saving throw).  After that, I'd have two weeks per exam for study as usual.  Not having a brain made completely of tapioca, I said yes.

I got good grades on everything except the lab exams, which allows me to keep my "B" in BP&F.  But that was a two-week cram that I can assure you I am not keen on repeating.  Then I got all the rest of my classes caught up, took my Head Shrinking 101 exam (100%, say thank ye), got home, and collapsed in a smoking ruin.

I've been at the books, and trying to unsnarl the SNAFU of my degree-seeking aspirations, ever since.  More on that later.  For now I must withdraw: there is work to do and throats to cut.  Even if it turns out, as it seems currently, that the classes I am taking now will benefit me none at all - anything worth doing is worth doing beautifully.

See you next week.

--Coyote.

(Migraine pic courtesy of myhousecallmd.com; Bullwinkle is owned by Viacom these days, I think; tapioca bowl pic courtesy of 2footalligator.blogspot.com; smoking ruin pic courtesy of smh.com.  All rights reserved by those who reserve them.)

Sight Child

You smile so rarely.

Not that I blame you.

But when you do,

Not that grin of yours, because you got the old man again

(I know, I know, wrapped around this...)

But your smile

When it reaches your eyes,

Ah, such beauty!

It strikes at my heart.

For all that I might wonder

If you just smiled for my sake,

I would not trade your smiles for diamonds

Child of my heart,

I have seen two world wars.

And every day,

It seems the world spins

Faster.

You can barely remember twenty years ago.

Yes, of course you have your Sight.

But that’s different.

I know your treasure,

I see you pan for its tiny yellow grains.

Ignorance.

Silence.

Until I knew you,

I could not understand the allure.

Now neither of us can go back.

Make a wish.

I’m almost pleading.

A crone’s eyes stare from a maiden’s face.

A shrug.

A desperate sheath of ice.

Birthday candles that burn down fast

And gutter in white frosting.

You play with your kitten

And ignore my silly ritual.

The next year I leave uncrowned.

Do you have a death wish?

You slam the door

And the second hand laps at the font of your life.

I could call out to you,

But you are already gone.

Fourteen candles flutter and die in my mind.

Ten years,

That’s all we have.

Then five.

Then one.

Then . . . any day.

I will go on watching empires crumble,

And keep your rare smiles with me.

You dance on the edge of Atropos’ cliff

Heedless of my barking.

You are the needle of my eye, my dear.

You are the wind that has blown through my heart.

Due to the intrusion of real life events, there will be no Blogger update this week.  My apologies for the late announcement; look for my usual writing genius this coming Monday.

Thank you,
--Coyote