It's afternoon. I've been perusing blogs to see just what people write about. I don't mean people like financial brokers, accountants, or coders who use blogs to disseminate important information like how the hell do I start using Flash or do my taxes. I'm talking average people like myself, who don't have a big following except in our heads or "our people" who we meet nightly for drinks or dance or Scrabble. I used to think I wrote about boring stuff, but now realize I write the same dribble from the mouth stuff everyone else writes. My problem is in the promotion of this blog! All my business cards are pre-blog and I have yet to have a link on my website to this blog. All summer stuff that is just waiting for post Thumbelina, but while I hold out for that chunk of time, I thought I better start packing this with good stuff. And so I start with a poem written last night for my poetry class:
Rocket Fuel for the Soul
by Rachael Kvapil
Black or lightened with sugar and cream;
a simple drip or pumped
by a thousand pounds of pressure,
my rocket fuel trickles
from the yellow hut down the street.
The barista no longer asks, "Wet or dry?"
She knows I hate whipped topping.
She knows I take Columbian on Fridays
and Malawi on Sundays
to make the mental engine go.
This daily booster puts me in a happy place.
My son knows not to speak until two cups.
My co-workers know
I know nothing without two more.
Doctors warn me about too much.
Yet wives tales that speak of stunted growth
have never seen me try to last the day,
nor the genius that came from black liquid;
my mind emitting thoughts,
its combustion traced by a burnt aroma.
I joke that my life is becoming a series of cell phone diaries, but maybe it is real. It has a photo and video capabilities that work in a pinch. For example:
Guess I'm not so boring after all :)
Write more later... Peace RK