you are what you eat

Sunday, April 09, 2006
Current mood: thirsty

i'm only slightly disgruntled to discover that when i google "grace hussar" the worst poem i have ever written in my life comes up. not that i'm complaining. i love the fact that my uncopyrighted work is accessible and plagerizable...

i think the publicity is great. really. i have never before in my life written about being female, societal pressure, the price of beauty, or anything even remotely political and the one poem that encompasses all of those things gets published on the web. awsome.

oh my god. i just realized what a bitch i sound like. i'm really not.

really this whole blog is a cover for the rabid excitement i feel that my work is google-able. the way i see it, i'm once step closer to poet laureate. fuck ted koooser and his country bumpkin verse.

oh my god, i am being so horrible. i don't even know why... i swear i'm not an elitist

last night i told orion that i wrote a novel when i was fifteen, and it's true. i did. occationally i tell real whopping lies about stuff like this, but if you want to see it, i'll show it to you. you can't read it... i'm thinking of renaming it: extended episode of dawson's creek in which the names are changed is one idea, another, melodramatic thinly veiled autobiography of a fifteen year old.

my highschool english teacher didn't believe me when i told him about it. "you wrote a two-hundred page novel over summer vacation?" yes. yes i did. i had to bring it in and show it to him.

so here's what i want to know: in my naive, stupid, adolescence i managed to write two hundred god-awful pages, and now, here i am, well versed in literary theory and technique, with a slew of "writer friends" and enough existential angst to fill a warehouse so why can i not write a single page?

this only reinforces my firm belief that college is sucking my creative energies dry.

but at least i can write fifteen brilliant pages on color imagery in Beloved

so that makes it all worth it