today's unattributed poetry was by Ani di Franco, a long time inspiration to me.
So, my house mate seems to think i've got a bad case of arrested development.
it's quite funny, being judged on a day to day basis, in a jocular fashion.
he was teasing me today because i cooked.
i do in fact cook most days. hey ho.
i guess when you're on the brink of settling down with a senorita and treading the boards of domestic bliss, you wish to see others replicating, rather than dancing around the living room in their big giant socks to Mudhoney.
or maybe he really does think that everyone reads a newspaper every day, cover to cover. oh wait, maybe they do. don't they have news savvy friends with an informative bent?
i guess this is the part where i'm supposed to wonder what's going to happen to me and search my soul.
But in fact, i'm going to make a cup of camp coffee (its a brand people and mostly chicory), drink it and go to bed.
Then i'm going to get up and run. and then get back to scowling at essays.
and i'll pay some bills. And do some washing.
ooo and set up internet shopping deliveries. Now is that grown up or what?