Easy does it
easy go.
"Easy goes."
///One each day.
"Easy floes."
They told me that the creative writing program
at Carnegie Mellon University was not designed
to accommodate science fiction and was designed
to accommodate short form and long form real life
even though they flunked me through several classes
for having real life problems.
You've been warned.
Three absences and you have nothing to add
to the world.
You've been warned, I guess. No one warned me
about the entire sci-fi thing,
but you would think
they would have a course
in short form fiction
taught by someone
who could think
through the gobbly gook
of technology and see the imagination
instead of being hung up on the difference between
millimeters and the design atop a
gourmet cup of coffee that is gooky in itself.
Anways.
Sixty thousand dollars latter. I still dream about
interstellar cafes and heart break with nowhere to place it.
Wreckages of heartbreak and stories to tell and nowhere.
Professors that left me and trying to connect with them
and nowhere.
Linkages to the past and development and nowhere.
Growth and people I should be able to connect with
and nowhere.
Right where I started. As if it never existed. And Nowhere.
Adrift in space in the place where I left it.
Except.
If I wanted, I could track them down and kill them.
I have worked very hard on my skills.
I learned something while I was denied audience.
I worked very hard on my lethality. Conflating time and
space. If you refuse to speak to me, I will make time for
an audience. I grew. I grew in the vacuum of space to
become something of a nothing. A shadow. A worry.
You do not know me yet. I cannot tell you how many
times. Well, accepting a double ew was a black spot,
wasn't it? A something to do. I still would like to see
a jar with your teeth and the odor of the lounge stale coffee
still on them when the lid is unscrewed.
You have no idea what you did to me
to prove a point and preserve some sort of purity
in that class. What was the worst you thought would happen?
You have no idea. You have not the slightest inkling.
That is what makes me laugh to this day
Carnegie Mellon.... Carnegie....
I can find your names.... "he won't" .... a bad student....
pathetic....... automatic fail..... we can't........ the standard....
Every day I think about it, I am sickened. To light fire
to the entire wing
would be a
joy.
easy go.
"Easy goes."
///One each day.
"Easy floes."
They told me that the creative writing program
at Carnegie Mellon University was not designed
to accommodate science fiction and was designed
to accommodate short form and long form real life
even though they flunked me through several classes
for having real life problems.
You've been warned.
Three absences and you have nothing to add
to the world.
You've been warned, I guess. No one warned me
about the entire sci-fi thing,
but you would think
they would have a course
in short form fiction
taught by someone
who could think
through the gobbly gook
of technology and see the imagination
instead of being hung up on the difference between
millimeters and the design atop a
gourmet cup of coffee that is gooky in itself.
Anways.
Sixty thousand dollars latter. I still dream about
interstellar cafes and heart break with nowhere to place it.
Wreckages of heartbreak and stories to tell and nowhere.
Professors that left me and trying to connect with them
and nowhere.
Linkages to the past and development and nowhere.
Growth and people I should be able to connect with
and nowhere.
Right where I started. As if it never existed. And Nowhere.
Adrift in space in the place where I left it.
Except.
If I wanted, I could track them down and kill them.
I have worked very hard on my skills.
I learned something while I was denied audience.
I worked very hard on my lethality. Conflating time and
space. If you refuse to speak to me, I will make time for
an audience. I grew. I grew in the vacuum of space to
become something of a nothing. A shadow. A worry.
You do not know me yet. I cannot tell you how many
times. Well, accepting a double ew was a black spot,
wasn't it? A something to do. I still would like to see
a jar with your teeth and the odor of the lounge stale coffee
still on them when the lid is unscrewed.
You have no idea what you did to me
to prove a point and preserve some sort of purity
in that class. What was the worst you thought would happen?
You have no idea. You have not the slightest inkling.
That is what makes me laugh to this day
Carnegie Mellon.... Carnegie....
I can find your names.... "he won't" .... a bad student....
pathetic....... automatic fail..... we can't........ the standard....
Every day I think about it, I am sickened. To light fire
to the entire wing
would be a
joy.
