this is lila. i know for a fact she is cuter than any kid in your family.
today i went to work and did some very important things for the advancement of poetry. then i came home and finished what may be the most important paper ever written on as you like it. i’m still accepting grant money for my continued search for postmodernist tendencies in shakespeare.
last night i went to a poetry reading with my new friend from fiction class. i felt sort of like a tool because she and her lawyer friend bought me a bunch of drinks and paid for me to take a taxi and then later get into a club in the mission. i know i should have refused but i am WAY poor and i wanted to hangout and be sociable so what was i supposed to do? anyway, as the night wore on the amazing things i promised to do for them in the future just kept increasing. probably at this point i owe them both a yacht.
we only watched about 15 minutes worth of actual poetry because first we had to drink mojitos and then we had to drink whiskey and ginger ale. the first poet we saw was a little uncool. what i remember about her poetry is a reference to bonnie raitt and something about being really old and falling down because she had to walk a block and a half home. the second poet is my future husband. or would be if i could remember his name. he wore these green futuristic sunglasses and talked about buying his daughter the complete works of ayn rand bound in seal skin for her 13th birthday. after him however things went massively downhill. when they introduced a woman whose poetry was an “imagined dialogue between the poet and tolstoy which slowly becomes a journey in which the poet helps tolstoy rewrite anna karenina” my new friend and i decided that it was time to leave the premises. on the way out i heard the woman say, “it is time to stop laughing. now we are entering mother russia,” to the crowd. who lets their friends even think about writing poems about an imagined conversation with tolstoy? it is the friends i blame. and maybe the parents for too much positive reinforcement.
i meant to dress up like christopher columbus today and murder people with reckless abandon. but i couldn’t find the right replica weaponry and i have a feeling people in san francisco aren’t that into history.