my day, in haiku

New haircut today.
Looks 'bout the same as before.
Forty bucks wasted.

Grading is awesome!
(For those who hate puppies, fun
and America.)

Daily posts are hard.
Inspiration is waning.
Think I've sprained my brain.

inebriated
and extemporaneous
microwave ovens

suddenly, haiku!

Nathan surprised me this morning with Morrissey tickets for tonight, and to say I’m excited would be putting it lightly. The gift itself is just about the sweetest darned thing ever when you consider that Nate doesn’t even particularly like Morrissey, and even I - a fervent fan - can freely admit that the man is beyond annoying. So good on him!

As it so often does, my excitement has moved me to a particular mode of Japanese poetry. Actually, it moved me thrice. All lines are Morrissey song titles, and I think they capture his snide melancholy quite nicely, if I do say so myself…

hated for loving,
Satan rejected my soul
pretty girls make graves

hairdresser on fire
you’re the one for me, fatty
life is a pigsty

on the streets I ran
November spawned a monster
dear God, please help me

And now I’m even more excited than before I began. Should you need me ‘round 8 o’clock I’ll be drooling in my best black outfit while perfecting my falsetto, and I. Can't. Wait.

Yay! Yay! Yay!

haiku of the we..oh, let's be honest. haiku of the season

Today is supposed to be the most depressing day of the year, but not so for me and here's why. I saw HIM today - my favorite denizen of our strange little neighborhood - The Drumming Man!

Without fail, whenever I see The Drumming Man, giant headphones cradling his ears and drumsticks gripped in tight fists, I can be absolutely certain that no matter what unpleasantness I have encountered so far in my day things are bound to make a turn for the better. To his credit, The Drumming Man has found a way to merge two of his favorite hobbies - drumming and speed walking - into one glorious activity. Of course I have no idea who he's listening to through those giant headphones, but I like to imagine it's Keith Moon or Neil Peart or someone equally badass. While he listens he walks as fast as he can, a giant smile smeared across his face, eyes half closed and drumsticks pounding on imaginary cymbals and snares. I'm doing my best to describe it but, alas, mere words aren't enough. He truly must be witnessed to be appreciated.

I had feared that he had gone into hibernation for the winter since he is typically found traversing my neighborhood sidewalks in more temperate weather, but apparently a little cold and ice aren't enough to keep him from braving the elements. After all, there's drumming to do.

And since I love him so much, I've immortalized him in seventeen syllables. Enjoy.

Rock it, Drumming Man.
Your rhythmic hold o'er my heart,
no snow can release.