De Profundis

"I am the ultimate phase of the poetic temper on the way to becoming a sort of reformer on a small scale..."

Not really. In fact, more likely the converse: a little maggot hoping one day to become a fly.

Are maggots able to lead a poetic existence?

Moving along, it occurred to me this morning while walking to work that there are two kinds of people: meter maids and poets. The meter maids of the world live a life of rules and efficiency. They move swiftly among us, enforcing their code, making sure our wheels are cramped toward the curb, checking our registration stickers, occasionally measuring the distance between our tires and the curb. I am a meter maid, but don't take my job all that seriously.

The poets, on the other hand, live their lives amassing citations. Hundreds of little yellow envelopes accumulate on their windshield until one day their cars are towed away.

Lunch

There is something in my manner that makes people uneasy. For example at lunch today, the waitress came by the table to check if I needed anything. I looked up from my book and shook my head. She smiled and I smiled back, but before she turned away--and for only a split second, which however brief, seemed eternal--I detected in her countenance sheer and utter terror. It was as though she peered directly within my soul and was frightened of what she saw.

For dessert I had a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

I just finished a bath

It's important to feel clean from time to time. How long before I get bored of blogging? I will continue out of self-hate and spite, oh yes.

The Pensive Pigeon

Where do you find your inspiration?

I want to blog your brains out.