Ten Reasons I Shouldn't Do Stand Up...despite how inspired I was after stand up night at Motini's

Reason number 1:

I had to title this reason, "reason number 1."

2:

I have a twin sister...but she looks nothing like me. That rules out telepathy...and Mary Kate and Ashley jokes.

3:

I live in Indiana...how many jokes can you tell about corn? It's when you switch the 'c' to a 'p,' that things get interesting. But, I can't even swear in a group larger than three...so touche, self.

4:

I am a writer. Which means, I pretend to know what existentialism means...key word being "pretend." This automatically makes me pretentious and boring. If you think about it, people that use words longer than six letters are boring...except you, Mary Poppins. Forgive me.

5:

I listen to oldies. And, when I say oldies...I don't mean semi-old, like the classic rock my dad listened to at my age (but that doesn't mean you aren't old, dad). When I say oldies...think younger than Bach, whiter than Richard Simmons, and crazy for buying war bonds. Although, I do love blues and mo-town...hmmm.

6:

Oh yeah, don't forget about the opera I love...guess that negates anything slightly cool I have going for me.

7:

I am afraid of farm animals...damn you, George Orwell. Keep in mind, I live in the 4h capital of the world, and I get hives even thinking about sheep and cows.

8:

I was going to title this list, "Thirteen Reasons Why I Shouldn't Attempt Comedy," but I can't even come up with ten.

....this is getting more difficult...

9:

When I drink Coffee, my roommate has to hold my arms down, slap me around, and tell me to "stop it with the Yoda speak!"

10:

I debated stopping at reason number nine to screw with y'all...but I think I'm going to make it to 11 for that very same reason.

11:

I was mauled by a Welsh Corgi.

Attempted Manslaughter

An attempt at poetry.

This is basically why I don't write poetry. In fact, when I do write poetry I find that the words seem involuntary like ill-willed asylum patients. They lay down on the page, but do everything in their power attack each other and create chaos.

But, I gave it a shot. Sometime, I might even post something that I actually worked at...

Untitled

Why do we feel
stronger in the dark?
We fight battles in soup cans
with lima beans in our cork screw eyes.
Foment the calm with butter knives
of silent monochrome.

Why do we feel
safe in closets?
Our elbows imprinted
with the half moon stamp of a hanger.
It begrudges us privacy
among gawking turtle necks.

Why do we clench our teeth
in sunlight?
Our mouths like hissing radiators,
spill foggy heat.
We are ships docked in the bay
of a town
with no whores.

me Me ME.

Big news on the "I'm going to be published" front.

To those few big shots who don't think this is important...go strangle a pygmy goat.

Anyone else (that includes you, Dad):

I read some non-fiction at a local bar called Motini's on Monday! I wasn't what you would call a smashing success, but I did manage to move a few people (and no, I'm not talking about the souls that got up and left while I was reading), and I have been asked to return. However, whether or not that will happen soon is another matter. I am a freshman and I am not a master of the craft...but I think they like fresh perspectives.

Anywho, I have also been asked to be a junior(ish) member of the Writer's Community council(ish) thing. I am pretty stoked. For those of you not in the know, this means that I will be helping to plan the last few events of this semester. Thanks a lot to Rebbecca and Tyler for including me.

Last shout out, I swear, I want to thank all those who follow this blog. It's been pretty tough to figure out what I am doing here. It's obvious that I have lost my original perspectives about blogging. Basically, I used to think that people who blogged about their own exploits, were selfish nincompoops. Well, I have joined the throng. I think that I am going to use this blog to talk about literature and my life and my writing and me, me, me. But, that's ok. I am a writer. I am allowed that pig-headed creative license.

Last note before I sign off. I am working on a big project that I like to call "The One Inch Frame." It is merely a collection of "flash" non-fiction stories mostly about my life and relating to my generation. I haven't really written much non-fiction, but I am excited to explore the genre. Oh, and I stole my title from Anne Lamott's book, Bird by Bird. I am using the metaphorical "one inch frame" to examine and distill memories from my past into words.