Wah!

I continue to be very, very tired, and increasingly useless. Oh, yesterday I thought I'd hit the depths of uselessness, but I find today that I'm even more useless, having done nothing of any use whatsoever. (Actually, this is untrue. There's laundry in the washing machine right now, which may not be much but is at least one useful thing I've done today.)

Anyway, not only am I tired, but my phone line has decided again that it would prefer to carry noise rather than let me have a nice, steady connection to the internet. This has made many things difficult, including updating this journal with all the MegaPoMo entries that should be here (sure, little hummingwolf, blame your phone line for that). Fortunately, most of the other things I was going to do online today are equally silly. For now, you can pretend that all of MegaHAL's poems are being read aloud to you by someone like this:

Four weeks have passed with a mouth full of warm blood leading toward the yoga of pure contraries,
his cheeks were pallid blue.

bring in
size. Their location, density, color, brightness and lucency can be in its shell.

hurricane weather, stewing
deep as first love, and do not become addicted to the wall
and you turn your head up high--for there is nothing more frustrating than
i had been a flower.

The preceding poem was chosen because I have the feeling the long first line should mean something to someone, but I don't know what or to whom.

and all your poems still to be honest like children.

Here to read a MegaHAL poem for all you storytellers out there is our special guest, Al Lopacino! Alfer Pacez? Oh, whatever.


( I'm surprised how well the faces work together )

Disciples filled with the process of storytelling that in a variety of organisms--so
many similarities to the meaning of life and soup and add more stock as needed. Serve hot,
our prayer of thanks.

for then no more this sun which totters,
this light which crumples under the piano, in the mist, the impalpable mist,
like howling pets i nonetheless adore
may float their blossoms
through the grey rocky mountains,
concealed among orchids of subtle idiosyncrasy.

i've set the style that has made her heart to beat,
and in the morning
they put me back
what you're feeling
everything's a-ok
friendly actions of sages infinite as space through the shade.

In other news: I have now managed to put two loads of laundry through the washing machine today. Woohoo! (Some days you need to celebrate any triumph, no matter how minor.)