It's Tuesday, honest.

I've been running a mad blue streak all day. All day being since I woke up at 4pm Tuesday. It's made me mostly-useless.

Oddly enough, useful/useless-ness is the topic that I found at the bottom of the slump, and through understanding my own need to be useful, I've begun to turn things around.

Not sure I can turn it far enough to be alert and talkative in 6 hours for my last scheduled visit to my mom's class, but we'll see. The first time I went I had been up the full night before, but I don't recall being under sustained emotional stress.

ENOUGH EMO.

Have some sketchy animals.



I posted new poetry yesterday, and if I really cared about pattern I'd post an old-but-updated one today. But I don't. I wrote this before going to bed last night.

Geography

If our bed was North America,
you'd be the Rocky Mountains
with a firm grasp on the
Mountain and Pacific time zones,
your head is pillowed
in the snows of the north,
your feet (always hot)
jut from the blanket's embrace.

I could lie in
the Great Plain states,
uncluttered, smooth, inviting,
or leave that vacant land between us,
nestling my body
in the Appalachians,
and dream the wall's a window,
and I'm gazing across the Pond.

Instead, I squeeze myself
onto California
(though covers don't reach)
curling against your slopes
with my back to the sea
and feel the gentle, lapping
waves of wind.

It needs some love, and (despite the title) I played it a little fast and loose with the geography. Poetic license, eh?