Moody

I read once that a band member once found Duke Ellington throwing some torn-up pieces of paper into the toilet of his hotel room. Asked what the deal was, Ellington said, "I'd prefer that people not catch on to how badly I can write." In that spirit, I have to explain that I've been feeling grumpy and closemouthed lately. I'll write things down, deem them crap, and rewrite them and then throw them away.

This morning I decided that I didn't want to get out of bed and wasn't in a good mood. It was dark, and it was bitter cold, and it was January. And then I thought, "You know what, though? None of those are actually permanent conditions." It didn't exactly make me spring up with a song in my heart but it was a good point to keep in mind.

I just went on a poetry site, curious about someone I'd heard on the radio (I thought it was pretentious and laughed out loud, but I shall investigate before issuing my final condemnation). I read one poem, said "Meh," and then spent another minute hunting down and killing all the stupid little pop-up and -under ads the site sprouted. Lousy money-grubbing poet bastards! Why don't you get a job, you bums!

And on that uplifting note, I think it's time to go work out.