The best-laid plans...
Sep. 29th, 2003 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
icepixieSkipping ballroom again because it's only from 10 to 11 and I found out about this at 9, when I was all the way down at the dance studio. Didn't want to walk back to my room and then back to the studio for only an hour of practice, which would be cut even shorter for me because I would leave at exactly eleven, and we always start about fifteen minutes late anyway.
Grrr.
So instead Kate and I watched Stargate. We caught the last half of Revelations, and then discovered that, yes, Sci-Fi is showing them out of order, and Meridian was next. ARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!! *beats head against wall* So yes, the schedule I sent my parents was all messed up. Dammit. However, Kate is a saint and had a video tape, so we're recording it while someone else uses the lounge. Ah, technology.
So yeah, I finally saw Heimdall. Still wanna do some sort of Thor/Heimdall & Daniel/Janet thing, because dude, Michael Shanks and Teryl Rothery voice the two Asgard. Hee. *waits for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
babylil to quit retching at the idea of Asgard sex* *snickers*
So now, since I'm two-thirds of the way through Dune and don't have so much hanging over my head at the moment (I could work on my Irish Lit. essay, since I went and copied articles and essays at the library tonight, but why would I want to do that? ;-)), here's this week's poem. The assignment had to do with casting a charm, spell, curse, or prayer, or something like that. This is the three-page poem that wouldn't freaking die. I managed to get it to exactly two pages by changing the font. My printer hates me now.
Southern Charm
Seven Windows on Nashville, Tennessee
I.
You would do well to dress lightly,
because I am taking you to my house
in the middle of summer.
You will step outside for an instant
and come back in with three chigger bites
that you will scratch into bloody welts.
Your shirts will all become
soaked with sweat
just by walking through a parking lot.
The backs of your thighs
will stick to the cracked blue vinyl
of the under-air conditioned public buses
and hurt like pulling off a Band-Aid
when you stand up.
You will hear the constant drone
of crickets and cicadas
until it becomes as much a part of you
as the hum of your computer.
II.
You will live on gallons
of iced tea, and it will be served
with the sugar already in it.
Cornbread and biscuits will replace rolls,
but you can still have French bread,
because we aren't completely beyond the pale.
In fact, we're rather cosmopolitan
because people like you keep
passing through.
III.
You will learn to hate country music
because you can't get away from it;
voices and twanging chords mingle
in open shop doors
as you walk down Second Avenue.
The Cumberland River may look cool
after that trek, but it runs swift and deep and dirty,
and you wouldn't want to get hit
by a garbage barge.
IV.
You will hear me revert to my original accent,
because all my roommates say
I talk funny when I call my parents.
You will find that "pen" and "pin"
are pronounced the same way,
and that "caint" is a perfectly acceptable
way to say you ain't got the time.
You will hurry up and wait
while we finish our sentences,
laden with extra syllables,
at our own pace, and realize that
we can do whatever we want
because we talk real nice.
V.
On Sunday mornings
the air will be filled with church bells
because we're the Buckle of the Bible Belt,
although to judge by Vandy-area traffic,
black and gold and orange and white
have more followers than the pulpit.
Jesus was born on a football field
and raised on the racetrack.
VI.
You will see the brave mockingbird
who sings to the morning on my patio wall
and think of Atticus Finch,
Scout, and Boo Radley.
You won't be wrong about our history,
but we've heard it all before,
and now we can only roll our eyes
at that silly statue of Nathan Bedford Forrest.
VII.
And when you have known all this,
you will see a little of why
I get so cold when I go away
from the mimosas and magnolias
and strangers who ask "how ya doin'?"
in the middle of the sidewalk.
And when you have known all this,
you will understand why
you might have to dress up
to go to dinner next door
to a yard full of old car bodies
and rusting refrigerators.
You will understand the feed store
at the corner of First and Broadway,
and the yes, ma'ams and no, sirs
that float through the air
in a river valley beyond the Mason-Dixon line.
This is about three quarters my point of view, but not entirely. Think me, but romanticised. Sort of. Maybe, I dunno...
*bounce* I feel really happy for no particular reason. Perhaps it's the TV consumption I've had over the past two days. Dido's "White Flag" just came on on Radio Liechtenstein. Maybe that has something to do with it, too. *hums along*
Grrr.
So instead Kate and I watched Stargate. We caught the last half of Revelations, and then discovered that, yes, Sci-Fi is showing them out of order, and Meridian was next. ARRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!! *beats head against wall* So yes, the schedule I sent my parents was all messed up. Dammit. However, Kate is a saint and had a video tape, so we're recording it while someone else uses the lounge. Ah, technology.
So yeah, I finally saw Heimdall. Still wanna do some sort of Thor/Heimdall & Daniel/Janet thing, because dude, Michael Shanks and Teryl Rothery voice the two Asgard. Hee. *waits for
babylil to quit retching at the idea of Asgard sex* *snickers*So now, since I'm two-thirds of the way through Dune and don't have so much hanging over my head at the moment (I could work on my Irish Lit. essay, since I went and copied articles and essays at the library tonight, but why would I want to do that? ;-)), here's this week's poem. The assignment had to do with casting a charm, spell, curse, or prayer, or something like that. This is the three-page poem that wouldn't freaking die. I managed to get it to exactly two pages by changing the font. My printer hates me now.
Southern Charm
Seven Windows on Nashville, Tennessee
I.
You would do well to dress lightly,
because I am taking you to my house
in the middle of summer.
You will step outside for an instant
and come back in with three chigger bites
that you will scratch into bloody welts.
Your shirts will all become
soaked with sweat
just by walking through a parking lot.
The backs of your thighs
will stick to the cracked blue vinyl
of the under-air conditioned public buses
and hurt like pulling off a Band-Aid
when you stand up.
You will hear the constant drone
of crickets and cicadas
until it becomes as much a part of you
as the hum of your computer.
II.
You will live on gallons
of iced tea, and it will be served
with the sugar already in it.
Cornbread and biscuits will replace rolls,
but you can still have French bread,
because we aren't completely beyond the pale.
In fact, we're rather cosmopolitan
because people like you keep
passing through.
III.
You will learn to hate country music
because you can't get away from it;
voices and twanging chords mingle
in open shop doors
as you walk down Second Avenue.
The Cumberland River may look cool
after that trek, but it runs swift and deep and dirty,
and you wouldn't want to get hit
by a garbage barge.
IV.
You will hear me revert to my original accent,
because all my roommates say
I talk funny when I call my parents.
You will find that "pen" and "pin"
are pronounced the same way,
and that "caint" is a perfectly acceptable
way to say you ain't got the time.
You will hurry up and wait
while we finish our sentences,
laden with extra syllables,
at our own pace, and realize that
we can do whatever we want
because we talk real nice.
V.
On Sunday mornings
the air will be filled with church bells
because we're the Buckle of the Bible Belt,
although to judge by Vandy-area traffic,
black and gold and orange and white
have more followers than the pulpit.
Jesus was born on a football field
and raised on the racetrack.
VI.
You will see the brave mockingbird
who sings to the morning on my patio wall
and think of Atticus Finch,
Scout, and Boo Radley.
You won't be wrong about our history,
but we've heard it all before,
and now we can only roll our eyes
at that silly statue of Nathan Bedford Forrest.
VII.
And when you have known all this,
you will see a little of why
I get so cold when I go away
from the mimosas and magnolias
and strangers who ask "how ya doin'?"
in the middle of the sidewalk.
And when you have known all this,
you will understand why
you might have to dress up
to go to dinner next door
to a yard full of old car bodies
and rusting refrigerators.
You will understand the feed store
at the corner of First and Broadway,
and the yes, ma'ams and no, sirs
that float through the air
in a river valley beyond the Mason-Dixon line.
This is about three quarters my point of view, but not entirely. Think me, but romanticised. Sort of. Maybe, I dunno...
*bounce* I feel really happy for no particular reason. Perhaps it's the TV consumption I've had over the past two days. Dido's "White Flag" just came on on Radio Liechtenstein. Maybe that has something to do with it, too. *hums along*
no subject
Date: 2003-09-30 08:17 am (UTC)*blushes* Thank you. :)
I think my favorite line is the "To Kill A Mockingbird" reference - but the *atmosphere*! *bounces*
I was with you.
*happy bouncing* That's what I was going for, so yay! Muchas gracias! :)