2 hours with a power broom = 1 milkshake at 10 am

= 1 bill-sized mess on the kitchen counter.

seriously. if you remember those ‘messy marvin’ commercials for the chocolate milk mix (pre-rabbit quik, i believe), then you have an idea. i have an extremely hard time making a meal without at least five dishes, even if it’s a fried egg.

anyway, this morning i woke the neighbors a little after 7 as i tried to get the bulk of the 40 tons of winter sand off our yard with a rented power broom. it’s been dry for a while, and rain expected tommorrow, so this morning was just right.

i found a(nother) hubcap, the obligatory crushed cans and cigarette boxes and wrappers, several bits of McDonald’s paraphrenalia (there’s one at the bottom of our road), a steel cylinder about a foot long, an almost complete circle of steel about 8 inches in diameter, a perfectly good basketball (probably from across the street so i put it in the garage until i see them next), a couple of those plastic rip-cords used to secure newspaper stacks on delivery trucks, several downed tree limbs completely buried under the sand, a paper plate, and a poem.

well, i didn’t find that last one, so much as it found me. i’ve said it before, but steady physical activity tends to release my conscious mind, letting in some of the greatest ideas. About halfway through the work, i found myself reflecting on the weekend for no particular reason and the title for this poem appeared in my head: ‘Easter is cancelled’. i know, it doesn’t sound very happy, but it’s actually an uplifting piece of thankfulness.

poetry? yes, poetry. i’ve never considered myself much good at crafting it, but an upcoming poetry slam at the college where i teach has energized me. i’ve never been to one, myself, nor did i really understand the concept until i spent some time with it, thanks to the librarian who is organizing the event. in addition to information, they have put up links to various slam poets performing their work, and two of them captured me immediately:

this one is hilarious (and a little lewd), and is going to be shown to all my English classes from this point forward (you’ll want to listen carefully): Taylor Mali: “The The Impotence of Proofreading”

this one is incredible, but very very hard and explicit, so be warned: Corbet Dean: “Letter My Father Never Gave Me”

and this last one is going up on my wall: Taylor Mali: “What A Teacher Makes”

how can these not inspire?

which is good, because another agent passed on NGD yesterday.

time to squeeze some writing in before the next job.