mizuch ado about nothizzle

i'm sorry i'm expounding instead of writing in this thing currently. yes, o nonexistent reader, to you i plead for forgiveness. yea verily i say unto you, um, well, i guess two things:

1. writing stuff you know something about but not writing it as you know it--or, writing something you don't know anything about and learning it through writing. this, i think, could be an outline to "poetic" "process," provided that the two strands are understood as two aspects (possibly two functions) of the same thing. both "poetic" and "process" are in quotes above because i don't know crap about anything, especially not poetry (as may be more than evident). you have to give me a break, though. those "poems" below are first drafts. why put first drafts online? i think it's something about the exposure, actually--honesty in anonymity isn't very high risk, but that means that i can be more and more honest in an effort to rise to the challenge of being unknown. the answers to these questions are flowing very easily tonight, and should probably not be over-trusted.

2. i shouldn't be believing what i seem to be believing. i think about things that may or may not have happened earlier, and i melt--my hands start shaking at the wrists, and it's like the reversal of a volcano, the feeling, a swoop, like a bird landing on its prey or a vacuum sucking up the cieling. but of course said things may not have happened, and i'll just end up making myself a turban out of my brain again if i believe in them (sorry, that wasn't racist, or at least wasn't meant to be--what i mean is that the sensation of believing in these things, when i know i ought to know i'm wrong, feels like what i imagine it would feel like to wrap one's own brain into a turban). i've imagined wrongly before. i have. i did so as early as the beginning of this week. why won't my stupid self listen to itself??

yeah, there's an easy answer to that one: because it feels too good to believe. sometimes i dream about things that i hope will happen; sometimes i dream about things because i don't dare to hope they'll happen. these things i can't stop myself believing in are from that second category of dreams.

i'm pitiful, but i don't want pity.

another symptom of things i shouldn't be believing in but am for now (only for now, only for tonight): i don't remember anything about what my feet were doing. it's flat-out bizarre. i assume they were on the ground. calculations of most available probabilities would seem to point in that direction. of course i don't know crap about probability calculation, except that if you do enough logarithms you can make a fern, just like thomasina thought before she burned down.

ah, the metaphor is apt.

unfortunately i don't think it counts as a metaphor...nor, now that i think about it, is it really all that apt. what the hell's "apt," anyway? this may end very very poorly.