Every day that passes I am convinced could've been saved by a steady diet of firm words and well-thought out food.

Paperback Writer

I guess I just started a novel. I'm not really sure how it happened. It feels like a one-night stand. The morning after, you are sitting in bed, alone, wondering what in the hell happened last night. There may be a vague sense of shame. There may be a sense of bewilderment. But above all, there is confusion and the undeniable fact that what just happened, just happened.

Resolutions, version 2K.11

1. Say the word "like" 20% less frequently
2. Get a haircut every 6 weeks
3. Buy more shoes and fewer kitchen accessories
4. Learn to beat box
5. Make fat stacks of cash
6. Stop making so many damn lists

Benchmark

I have heard from a certain poet that the "long" poem is kind of a right of passage for young poets. The first time you write one of those 8 page behemoths, you have accomplished something huge.

Is it just me or is 8 pages just too damn many for a poem?

Because I really think it is. No matter how good your poem is, I will lose interest by page 3. And if you are in the habit of writing poems that long maybe you should look into fiction. Or lyrical essays. Because 8 pages is not a poem. It's a treatise.

Here is something to think on: most of the fish you can name are threatened or substantially overfished. At some point in the near future, they may disappear entirely. You may very well lose your ability to list fish in short order. Though mass can never be destroyed, populations, schools, whole generations can be. It is convient for me, both morally and appetite-wise, that I have never developed a taste for fish. I could never stomach something that still tastes like its origins.

Over the last few weeks, I have asked myself a series of useful and not so useful question, most oriented around what the hell I should do with myself for the rest of my life. I wish someone would've told me at birth that I would be stuck with myself for the duration of this lifetime. The choices I made may have been different. But not likely. I have considered putting myself in a home for the socially subversive or possibly retiring to a reservation for the intellectually challenging. Ultimately, I suppose I must do something that actually exists. I cannot fabricate a world to retire into. This is what I find most upsetting about the current state of things.