Random Sorta Problems

I've taken to writing a lot of (maybe) bad poetry, lately. I don't know why, especially considering that I despise bad poetry. Also, I can't quite figure out if it's bad poetry or bad lyrics.

I once read an article or saw a special -- I can't remember which -- but it seemed to insinuate between the lines that Anthony Kiedis from The Red Hot Chili Peppers was a bad poet and a bad singer and that those two factors combined equalled brilliance. And a trip program mate named Lea from China, who rather spookily hasn't been heard from by any of the other China program people in about 10 years, said the same thing about Jim Morrisson. So maybe by this time next year, I'll be a rock star.

But probably not.

Anyway, I had another of the past/present dreams on Thursday night. This time it was all the black women I knew at Smith. But we were all adults and we were taking a dance lesson at a political rally for Barack Obama. And most of my white conservative friends from now were there, too, and we were all having a good time. And the last thing I remember doing before I woke up, was hugging (now professor) Katrina G. and saying how good it was to see her again. Bizarre, right?

I wouldn't mind this dream series, except that I have no idea why I keep on having the same kind of dream or why it's ramped up to weekly. And quite frankly, I'm weirded out by the dream's benign nature. I think as a rule, that writers tend to have more nightmares due to being generally neurotic -- nightmares I can deal with. But I have no idea what this series means.

On a totally unrelated note, as epic as the new Coldplay album is, and as much as I can tell they worked extra-hard on all the lyricism, I think my favorite line is, "I'm just waiting for the shine to wear off." It's simple and it can be applied to just about every situation. And perversely, I think I prefer most things after the shine has worn off. I guess you could say that I've got a retro soul.