cygnoir.net

cygnoir.net

and scene

Make that FOUR poems. I have never been so rejected in a week.

I lunched with my three circ dudes today, which made me feel a bit better. And I slept seven hours straight last night. And Chad dropped off one of our old halogen lamps, so now I will have light in my room without the loud buzzing noise! So it has been a pretty good Last Day of The Library Without Students O God Do They Really Have To Come Back Already.

Speaking of students, I’m not continuing with graduate school here. I didn’t hate it but I didn’t love it, either, and I won’t sacrifice my writing time for something that I don’t love. Hell, I won’t even sacrifice my writing time for the MSG, and you might say I’m somewhat fond of him. I earned a very high grade in my prose workshop – the highest grade I’ve ever received in higher education – and I’m not proud of it, because I know I did the bare minimum to get it. School isn’t as inspiring as it once was to me, and I had to go back to find that out.

So that is how this part ends, with our protagonist resolute and hopeful, facing the ocean as the sun sets and the music swells. Pan out, glimpse shredded rejection slips in my right hand. I’m winking at you, camera. And scene.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.

∞