LIFE

I turn twenty-one on my last day of college (May 6th, 2009). At my birthday party all I really care about happening is: cupcakes, "Rosalita" by Bruce Springsteen and a sign that says IT IS YOUR BIRTHDAY.

I am Emerson College's poet laureate. Sort of. (I was chosen to represent Emerson at this poetry festival/contest/reading/jerk-off thing at Boston College in April. I will nervously read poems and then get published in a chapbook. Word?)

I want my kitchen to look like this:
Also, this weekend I think I might paint something. I have wanted to start again for a while. I haven't painted or drawn since at least three years ago. But I hadn't played the piano in more than that amount of time and I started playing it again a couple months ago and now I can play the first page (four lines or so) of Clair de Lune again. I am a prodigy. Except the lines on the treble clef are still Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge. Also, I am five.

And now I will stop this (LIFE) and post some poems because I haven't done that in a while. Maybe because they've mostly been big compilations of suck lately. Maybe?