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Mad Cackling
Aug. 21st, 2006 02:21 amGuess what Lily just found?
Last March, my computer crashed (for the second time in its fairly short life, but hey, at least it's not literally going 'splode, like some of its more recently made brethren). Among the crash's fatalities were the entire contents of my hard drive. And among those contents was my poetry. Now, some of these poems had been written in recent times and are actually pretty decent. Others...erm... Let's just say they provide a valuable memoir supplement of my teenage years and leave it at that.
So, once again, guess what Lily just found, amidst Yahoo's backup files?
And now, I contemplate posting these. If I do this, it's not because I hate you all and want your eyes to bleed, but for a much more noble purpose: I'm bored.
Besides, each entry will have a cute little note as to what the hell I was thinking/drinking/smoking when I wrote the piece in question. Information that's bound to become invaluable when I'm rich and famous.
...Hey, nowhere in that statement do I imply that my riches and fame will come from my cruddy poetry, or even its less-cruddy counterparts.
Postings of this nature will start tomorrow and continue till I run out of either poems or boredom. Fear. Fear, I say.
Last March, my computer crashed (for the second time in its fairly short life, but hey, at least it's not literally going 'splode, like some of its more recently made brethren). Among the crash's fatalities were the entire contents of my hard drive. And among those contents was my poetry. Now, some of these poems had been written in recent times and are actually pretty decent. Others...erm... Let's just say they provide a valuable memoir supplement of my teenage years and leave it at that.
So, once again, guess what Lily just found, amidst Yahoo's backup files?
And now, I contemplate posting these. If I do this, it's not because I hate you all and want your eyes to bleed, but for a much more noble purpose: I'm bored.
Besides, each entry will have a cute little note as to what the hell I was thinking/drinking/smoking when I wrote the piece in question. Information that's bound to become invaluable when I'm rich and famous.
...Hey, nowhere in that statement do I imply that my riches and fame will come from my cruddy poetry, or even its less-cruddy counterparts.
Postings of this nature will start tomorrow and continue till I run out of either poems or boredom. Fear. Fear, I say.
