Posted in Art

Hadestown is a Fantastic Play

If you haven’t heard the play Hadestown, change that. A musical placed during a fantastical 1920’s with Greek gods? I didn’t think it it would work, but it did and I am never going to switch songs when one of the songs come on. Especially Chant II, that one is very fun with the singer who use to play Frollo in the Hunchback of Notre-Dame singing as Hades. Go now, enlighten yourself.

Posted in Reading Critiques

Reader’s Q – In A Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd:
Petals in a wet, black bough

By Ezra Pound

I don’t like poetry. Having to decipher what the word blue ment in the context of the sentence makes me volatile. In the poem, there are two lines and every word is dissected. I cannot fathom why this was written down. At least in another poem, I could get around to how a fallen leaf sets the poet off into clinical depression.(For some reason, it’s not that sad but still.) 

 This metro poem, it  feels like someone snubbing their nose up to the rest of the people because they, can?! Also, he probably missed the train and was trying to cover his butt. Let’s be honest.

Posted in Journey Journal

To move foreward – you must realize you were standing still

Its an odd kind of sensation, being in the kitchen at 3 in morning and making mac and cheese when you reliaze…. you’re alone.

And not in the sad way, not entirely, but in a safe -“no one is going to tell me off for do this” way. Being all too aware of yourself and your being gets tiring. Now that I’m alone I’m confused on how I did it all for so long. Walk on eggshells, curb my existence, hold up a sign just to please someone else: its all gone. I dont have to do it anymore

Cry in the living room? Go ahead.

Ballroom dance with your rabbit? Why not! No one is going to tell you to knock it off.

Its a sense, I’m still grappling with it all because in some cases i am still paranoid. My brain will mimic a shout of my name while I’m listening with full headphones on. In the middle of the night. All by myself.

Or if the dishwasher isn’t done as soon as I come home from work, I get this sharp pain in my chest. Out of fear I’ll lock myself in my room in order to not get yelled at, only to find that its not biggie. “If I need it, I’ll just grab it from it ” -roommate

As free as I feel, there is still a piece of me that’s trapped. Held hostage and waiting till reality catches up.

I’ll keep running. Runnung and hopping and skipping just so that piece can stay in its place. In the back. Untouched and unreal. I hated standing still. Now I refuse to.