Thursday, September 24, 2009

In Which I Shamelessly Rip Off A Chel White Film

Chel White has shown us what he goes through when
It's time to write. It feels so strange and true
That it is my own sharp, harsh medicine
For when my own processes leave me blue.
First off, I kill the lights except for that
Which shines out from my laptop's baleful screen.
Then smoke a cigarillo there, out back,
Behind my house. I write some words, then scream,
Draw weirdo red cartoons in a Moleskine,
Then wipe out roughly half the words I've made.
To round things out, I let The Dude (he's mine
Own greatest muse) say how I feel, then trade
Self-pity for the awesome pow'r of PANTS.
Then write a lot, crank up the tunes, and dance.

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