Eat this suck

So, here's a little wasted time in a readable format. I've got no smokes, no essay, no speech, no project, and all of those things are necessary before tomorrow, which it is, being 2:00 and all.

I've been on page four of my essay for a very, very long t..i...m....e. I was on three even longer, if you can imagine how many dots I'd need to string that time along. I say John of Patmos can fuck himself. I've said all I can about him and his goddamn island and how it relates to one stupid poem or another. I don't like him or any other subject that has crept into the four (4 and 1/4) pages that needs to be five to seven pages, and of course by five, they mean five full pages, not just a tickling the top with a teaser, which seems like the best I could hope for right now.

If the paragraph above does not seem very writerly, you should just see this god forsaken essay. It's tinder-fare, fireplace ready. I don't think I've ever had a block like this before.


Just one and three quarters of a page, please. That's all.

Derek Walcott wrote a poem
that sucked out my brain.
It's called "As John to Patmos"
and I simply can't explain
How just one poem (and I know 'em)
causes so much pain.

I've called myself a litterateur
because I thought it true-true
But now "As John to Patmos" came
and shoved my nose in doo-doo
Still, I have to write this now,
Please tell me, what would you-do?

I know what you'd do. You'd stop distracting yourself and write a goddamn essay. Not even an essay. 2 fucking pages of an essay that would breeze through you like automatic writing (which may actually be quite jerky, if you believe in it at all). That's right. Now I will too-too.


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