Reading Old Journal Entries in Front of a Crowd: Painful Fun
Who would have thought that reading my old journal entries in front of a large audience of strangers could be so fun? Painfully embarrassing, yet somehow fun.
In light of tonight's Salon of Shame and my recent trip to California for my 10 year college reunion, I shall share one of my most embarrassing treasures: my teen angst poetry.
<ahem>
In the adumbration of darkness
I feast
on the comestible of your
flesh
as you count away the
minutes
until your death
because you are not as wonderful
as you think you are
because you are not divine
because you are not immortal
so you waste your life
waiting to die.
Photo by Gabrielle Fine. More photos here.
As I read my old goth poetry (there is a painfully large amount of goth poems in my journals), I am noticing I used a lot of big words. That's because I used to read the dictionary. However, the dictionary is really big and I only got as far as the c's, so all of my impressive words begin with the letters a, b, or c.
Also, how is it possible that I had so much time to spend on my goth poetry? I remember doing lots of stuff as a teenager and being very active and constantly freaking my parents out by my constant questionable activies. Where did I find the time to fill up these journals? DId my teenage self have better time-management skills than my adult self?
I guess I didn't have yoga, snowboarding, biking, THE INTERNET, work, more work, yard work, house work, etc. I just had my notebook, a pack of Camel Lights, my Docs, and a bottomless cup of coffee in a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop.
In light of tonight's Salon of Shame and my recent trip to California for my 10 year college reunion, I shall share one of my most embarrassing treasures: my teen angst poetry.
<ahem>
In the adumbration of darknessI feast
on the comestible of your
flesh
as you count away the
minutes
until your death
because you are not as wonderful
as you think you are
because you are not divine
because you are not immortal
so you waste your life
waiting to die.
Photo by Gabrielle Fine. More photos here.
As I read my old goth poetry (there is a painfully large amount of goth poems in my journals), I am noticing I used a lot of big words. That's because I used to read the dictionary. However, the dictionary is really big and I only got as far as the c's, so all of my impressive words begin with the letters a, b, or c.
Also, how is it possible that I had so much time to spend on my goth poetry? I remember doing lots of stuff as a teenager and being very active and constantly freaking my parents out by my constant questionable activies. Where did I find the time to fill up these journals? DId my teenage self have better time-management skills than my adult self?
I guess I didn't have yoga, snowboarding, biking, THE INTERNET, work, more work, yard work, house work, etc. I just had my notebook, a pack of Camel Lights, my Docs, and a bottomless cup of coffee in a hole-in-the-wall coffee shop.
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