I didn't know what to do last night when I woke up from a ridiculously long nap.

So I got into my pyjamas, tidied up a bit and still couldn't decide. I journaled a few pages, read a bit of Deuteronomy, and still wondered what I would do.

Then I thought about popcorn and television. It felt like a Saturday night and I wondered if I could keep the darkest shadows away by doing things that were all play and no work.

I wasn't exactly sure how I felt but it was close to balanced-ish. While thinking about what I might do--and sleeping was of course an option, given that it was nearing midnight--I crawled into bed under my hundredteen covers.

Then I grabbed a book from my "you should read this" stack on my bedside table to make sure I was being productive while I was thinking about how to be productive. And then I read the entire book of poetry, cover to cover, in one sitting. It was neat.

It made me miss reading. It made me think reading was cool. It made me miss art. It made me miss university. It reminded me of how I've shortchanged myself with education and artistic exposure. It seemed right for the time and it seemed appropriate to keep the book in my hands til I was done. It made me work my reading muscle, particularly through the entries that contained offensive bits and then lasted longer than I would have liked. It made me laugh out loud! It made think of at least four different friends that I'd like to show particular entries to. It made sense to me on the whole. It delighted me. It took me til 2am to finish. It made me wonder how much editing and proofreading is too much before you've killed a poem. It made me wonder how poetry is received by the widest audiences. It had entries that were so delicious I want to read them again more than the others and to even post it on my wall. A couple entries even made me feel validated for how I view and use language. I wonder if I will ever meet the people who are like me like that, the people who don't need me to explain myself. Words. She used all but a handful of words I already know and yet she compelled me, page after page. Art is so funny. Poetry and prose amaze me.