More like, FONDON'T!

I like to tell the kids where I work that I am very sad and alone. And that when I get off work I go home and cry myself to sleep.

They think it's funny.

And I was thinking about how there's something appealing about being okay with being sad. Or even, that it's funny to be plainly and openly sad. Louis C.K. talks about it a lot.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HbYScltf1c

I'm not saying that people who are actually sad are funny.

But, the idea of crushing sadness and misery raining down from the sky is kinda funny to me. There's something absurd about it.

It's not like you could be afflicted with any other emotion. You can't be stricken with chronic happiness or anger or...surprise. But there's a whole rainbow of sadness that you can feel at any given moment. I don't know.

It'd be cool to switch bodies with someone for a day or eight.

Killing It on All Five Baseboards

Hypotheoreticulateraterthetically,

I was at work yesterday and before the kids can play games in the gym or go outside on the playground, we have homework time. The kids are expected to do their homework quietly or read a book quietly or sit there and be bored...QUIETLY!

And of course, about ten to fifteen percent of them never do that. Either because they have no homework or there really isn't a strong incentive to do any of it. I'm fine with this.

I'm also mostly fine with the fact that they get up a lot and talk to me or talk to other kids or do something weird because they're kids.

But my hypothetical coworker decided to announce this, "Let's try this. I'm going to start a list and if you get up more than two times during homework time or I catch you talking to anyone, you're going on the list and you will sit out during gym time or on the playground."

Now, this question probably wasn't asked during her job interview, but I think it should have been,

"If you had to gain control of a group of children, would you immediately try to implement a Fascist regime that monitors and silently punishes all enemies to the well-being of the after-school program?"

Maybe that's worth asking because it's not the first time I've hypothetically seen it done. Also it doesn't work.

But what was strangest of all was that she asked the kids if they were okay with it. "Does that sound good?"

Uh....no. Who would agree to that? Why are you hypothetically asking that? Don't try  to switch it back to democracy at the end, Il Duce. 

Hydration Will Improve the Quality of Your Life

If you tire of living a dessicated impression of your former life-
If your cracked sense of happiness is inflamed and chafed like the fevered old parchment of the Declaration of Independence-
"Give me a soggy kingdom of clouds for liberation from the tyranny of dry, unlubricated existence", you cry!

The solution comes surging forth through ruptured rocks with lusty strokes!
Water!
Happy cells! Lifted tides and the spirit to rinse the stagnant pool of croaking limbs and spongey clanky disappointments.
New! The clear virtuous waterfall dropping strange sights off its cliff.
Gawk!

......,...........

I'm trying to drink more water.

A Stupid Thing and MacBeth

Butts of Long Since Passed

Sitting here, on my butt, at the top of rows and rows
of empty tables and empty seats
bereft of butts long since passed.

In a great cavity of butt, one might say.

And in this void, I am compelled to wonder, where all butts have gone?

Simply, they have gone off--and on and on and on.

They have squished and sagged and haunted other halls.
But, the suggestion here lingers.

You butts are too transient. But, your traces too strong.
Leave me! You booty specters.

The present fear of butts' absence is less than horrible imaginings.
Nothing is butt, but what is not.
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This is some stuff I thought about in an empty cafeteria and then I went to a Shakespeare class and then I biked home. This is what I carried back.

Let's Go to Work!

This I like to call, Poetry Written at Work.

These red streaks streaming in the middle of my morning door opening.

Face the world.

I scream, "Are you a story?"

The stained carpet and bikes with yellow tires on fake green grass turn pink.

"Are you a story?" I scream.

Some kind of transformation here

in the rosy tint from the radial pink clouds.

It must mean more than the dull hammers mashing mud 

into a blunt kingdom of belches and bulging creatures.

Beauty! Much too much to spark my wires.

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This is about the sunrise this morning and what I thought about when I thought about.

Taken from an IPAP!

Now it's time to get funky

No time for writing/drawing. Work and school and staying a functional person all the times.

Will try to write weird poems and mini stories at work until free time returns.

I JUST BURNED MY TONGUE!

LIFE IS HAPPENING TO ME!