September 30th, 2008 - Checking back in

I'd like to say this marks my return to regular use of this blog, but who knows? This blog has been a good tool for exposing mid-range drafts of poems. I think I'll keep doing that. And we'll leave it at that.
Here's one that way be a little past mid-range and into "done" territory.

Well if that don't beat all... not only does blogger (apparently) not support its handy dandy MS Word publishing tool, but cutting and pasting even makes it angry. Shoot! I had to paste to Notepad, then to the browser... If I don't find an easier way, this is going to work out!
Here's the poem. It's called...


January 2nd, 2008

2007 saw a lot of firsts for me.
My first time living alone in seven years.
My first misdemeanour D and D.
My first level 60 character in Worlds of Warcraft,
and second, third and fourth.
I learned that even pyramid schemes aren’t guaranteed
to make you back your $10,000 investment.
I learned that love isn’t really love
and a promise ain’t worth a pork rind
when something better comes along.
Especially when “anyone who changes his shirt daily”
pretty much qualifies as something better.
Yup, this year saw more ups and downs
than a trampoline competition for nudists.

So I know it’s not my style,
but I’m setting my New Year’s resolutions
almost as early as possible for 2008—
I hate not knowing what to moan about
through my tears as I ejaculate
into the warm embrace of a donor cup.

Resolutions are about clearly defining
how little I expect of myself.
They allow me to decide exactly what I want
to avoid thinking about when I’m alone this year.
They are about predetermining how much
of my gut I want to lose (a little, I guess),
how much money I want to put away (some),
what new things I want to try (or want to want to try),
and how I’ll make this world a little better.
(That is, minimize the damage I will do upon it.)
(That is, offset the damage I will inevitably do.)

I’m not saying I’ll cure heart disease or save the whales.
But I will try to save up my pocket change
and eat slightly fewer things in bar form
(unless Snickers go on sale two for a buck).
And I will experience fine European cuisine:
I will dine al fresco, order my homefries al dente,
my orange juice a la mode, and my bacon au gratin.

I’ll sign whatever petition some hippy accosts me with,
without even pausing to sneer at his poncho.
I’ll stop using the word “random” at inappropriate times:
“My random, heartfelt condolences.”
“Please don’t go. I’ll do any random little thing you want.”
I’ll stop being so lazy and procrastinatey;
I may not end up reading The Joy of Cooking,
or listing my old Bowflex on Craig’s list,
but, with Saint Cinnamon as my witness,
I’m gonna turn myself around in 2009.

And if that means changing my shirt everyday
just to meet someone else’s expectations of me—
even though it’s totally not dirty
because I haven’t even been outside
and these fudgicle stains were there
before I put in on, FYI, for your information…
Well, I’m pretty satisfied with myself already.