It has been quite a while since I wrote anything on here, but Grad School takes up a whole chunk of time. In between that, other writings, personal losses, anxieties, money issues, and running a movie review website, a lot of time gets eaten up.
I will be on here more often and more regularly, and I plan on redesigning this website.
To tell you the truth, I’ve been struggling: two years since my dad died and no money, and a shit ton of grad classes, and more books to read and get through, and an unhelpful system that prides grabbing people into the program, but the money is not there.
This is all to say that Life Happens, and yet I’m still here, through it all.
Here’s a poem, hope you dig it:
A dry fridge
I have a dry fridge,
it complains a lot about lack
of things inside it and yet
what can I do/ I’m just one guy
barraged by books that he will
never pick up again, let alone remember/
instead of “in one ear, out the other” it’s
in front of my eyes, but no brain-space for it,
memory refusing to make itself work
as if in a protest performance piece, the brain and the heart and the
gut knowing better than to retain
There’s a bottle of ketchup
which will not see the light of day
and a packet of soy sauce in a drawer
which will go unnoticed until many ages past
when the muck of Florida rises up
and swarms around us/ There’s an empty egg carton
waiting around to be thrown out but will have to wait longer,
and a bag of broccoli that shrinks everyday. These are the things
that occupy a dry fridge, a fridge on the mend, in a rehab siutation
bereft of enticements and temptations of splendor, wonder, excitement,
danger, promises, a new adventure, a new hangover, a new high, a new
bad trip, a new anything. It’s just as sober as anyone or anything else.
It’s just as sad.