Wow, it’s been a while

I’ve been thinking more about poetry lately, after a long drought of poetry-related thought. Last night, I decided to write something that’s been tugging on my brain for a while, but lordy, the rust! The rust!

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SoCal

SoCal

It’s always summer here. That is the trick
to fighting melancholy. Who can mourn
a sunny sky, a freckled arm, a slick
cascade of sunscreen? Only when we turn
our gazes back are we so newly old.
As papery as leaves. As brilliant, fallen.
Even in the grave we can’t be cold,
but so sunburning red that creeping autumn
thinks us stars. It’s true we dare not age
or smile too much for fear our faces break
from overuse. But science has no gauge
to measure this much happiness. Some weak
terrors may stick like burrs, prick traitor fingers.
Winter knocks. Summer turns the locks and lingers.

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Snatchers

An old one I’m revising.

Snatchers

My dead uncle came out of the restroom
casually, like last year’s cancer
couldn’t concern him. He’s taller now,

less grey and grave. I was tempted
to offer him popcorn, a drink,
or to sidle close enough to feel

if he still radiates. The dead flock
to crowds where a jowl’s droop recalls
Generalissimo Franco, that ruddy

cheek, my dad. Too many faces
reappear in theater lobbies or produce
stands. The dead should not touch

the strawberries. The dead should stay,
stay where they are and await my company.

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The backseat

I’m finding that writing of any sort, poetry or blogging or emails, is just taking a backseat to everything else in my life. It isn’t the image I have in my head of how things would be, but it seems to be reality.

The good news? I survived a year of law school, I am on the law review I wanted, and I’ve been working a job I enjoy.

The bad news? I get too tired to do other things I enjoy. It makes me feel old. Oh, and apparently my blood pressure is occasionally reaching the stratosphere. What I wouldn’t give for some ability to relax!

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Pseudophakia

I have been meaning to put pseudophakia online for free and I’ve finally gotten around to it. Maybe this means I’ll finally get around to finishing book 2. Or maybe not.

Here it is, in pdf format: pseudophakia

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An announcement and a request

I’m done with finals for the semester! Woo! They went… well… they went.

Chris and I are hosting a little impromptu virtual food drive for our wedding (also, conveniently for the holidays). If you feel like helping us meet our fairly modest goal, I would really appreciate it.

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Week 9 in the books, and so am I!

Sitting here writing a voluntary, ungraded assignment that’s taking hours. You know there’s something wrong with you when you do ungraded, voluntary assignments that take hours. The something wrong is LAW SCHOOL.

I have been in school for nine weeks, and in LA for six months as of today. Other than feeling like I never have enough time, things are going well. Moving out here and in with Chris was a great decision. Choosing an apartment with white carpet was… a less good decision.

Sitting at the kitchen counter watching the World Series while writing a VOLUNTARY UNGRADED assignment (did I mention the voluntary, ungraded part?) while drinking vast quantities of ginger ale? Ain’t nothing wrong with that at all.

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A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds…

*sigh*

So I hung up Facebook because it annoyed me. It still does, but I decided to open it back up for school reasons.

Make up my damned mind!

Week 8 started today and, frankly, I’m tired. We’ve been taking the subway and it requires my levering my tired body out of bed at an hour that just doesn’t seem to work for me. I’m no longer a night person, but oh lordy I’m not a morning person either. I’m just… a person. And even that’s a bit questionable at times!

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One week in

Life has been kind to me. The older I get, the more I recognize what a lucky person I’ve been and so far, law school has been just as kind.

It’s been curiously unstressful. Oh, I had ramped up the anxiety to 11 last Monday before my first class, but it was as if the lights came on and the stage fright went away the minute the first professor walked in the door.

So far, so good.

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That’s one way to feel like a kid again

I now have a retainer.

Oh, they call it a night splint or something like that and it’s for TMJD rather than post braces, but I put it in at night and instantly feel like I’m 14.

I didn’t even have braces, so I feel like a phantom 14 year old. A figment of my own imagination.

And it makes me drool.

I am too, too sexy for words.

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