One can describe my current activity as "furiously packing and trying to squeeze all worldly possessions into 2 luggages and 2 duffel bags and not really succeeding; all the while taking swigs from bottle of umeshu as an act of panic-displacement".
Taking a break now. ARGH ARGH. I have so many gorgeous pairs of shoes and bags, I am DEFINITELY UNABLE to choose which to bring. FUCK! How HOW HOW??!?!?!?!?!! Stupid airline limit!!!!
Right, anyhows, here's the Paula Meehan poem.
Quitting the Bars
Quitting's hard but staying sober's harder.
The day by day; the drudge and boredom bit;
not sure if the self is cell or warder.
You quit the bars; you quit the sordid ardour;
you quit the tulpas sucking on your tit.
Quitting's hard but staying sober's harder.
You sometimes think you got away with murder.
The shady souls regard you as you sit -
you wonder if they are wards or warders
in this sad cafe. The mind's last border
dissolves. Guilt has done a midnight flit.
Quitting's hard but staying sober's harder.
So sip cool water; the light's a wonder
streaming out in wave-particles. You've lit
up bright your prison cell. Body - warder
of your dreams - will be the dream's recorder,
though wrapped now in a skin that doesn't fit.
Quitting's hard but staying sober's harder;
stranger for you being both ward and warder.
-Paula Meehan
That's quite an accurate account, put economically and beautifully into a poem. I hate writing poems. It's such a difficult thing to do, it makes me feel small and stupid when I try and all that comes out are cheesy, cliche lines.
Ah wells.
I'M QUITE EXCITED! 6 MORE DAYS!!!!
And I'm getting an apartment! So everyone's invited! My door's always open!Labels: hungary, packing, poems |
posted by mia at 