besprent

I was going to try to edit this thing before my famous poet friend, Jackie, dropped by for a visit. Like that frantic toilet-scrubbing before friends stop over. But, then she's known me long enough to know that I'm completely overrated. I only felt bad that there was not more imagery, and that I haven't indulged in more stream of consciousness writing.
I am a masochist, officially. I enrolled in an online accounting course. I think I woke up last week and asked myself what would be the least enjoyable, only short of torcherous, thing I could do. Accounting.
One would think that I have enough scores and old report cards to prove to herself that she's not not intelligent. But I just decided to check and make sure you could really teach a not-that-old, but not as young as I used to be dog a few new tricks. I made it through the first lesson with only a negligible amount of cheating on the assignment. Not suffering from dementia yet.
One thing that I like to do that I did too much during adolescence is play a song repeatedly for hours and hours. I would soak an entire era of my life in a song. There's something about giving a point in time a better description. Instead of saying, the Summer of 2002 was bittersweet and exciting, I can say it was more, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. I know exactly what I mean and how it was whenever I hear the corresponding song. I decided to do that tonight, because Brady played Against All Odds for me, the Postal Service covering the Phil Collins (or Genesis)song. And it's so right for now. I'm so hungry for it.
Last year in the Fall when we lived in a shack on the side of a mountain, I did it with The Only Living Boy in New York and in the Spring I did it with Peach, Plum, Pear by Joanna Newsom... it was so bad that I woke up in the middle of the night with the song playing so loud in my head that I was very afraid it would never stop and I might go completely insane.
***because mick jagger and jackie are somehow inextricably linked in my head... here's this, it's supposed to be young mick, but it's from high school, so i forgive myself, and even appreciate its imbalance, and it was drawn on one of those apple bags with handles. i love how soft and round his face was, quite a departure from the look of his later years***