Cool film. Loved it. Especially that Ed Sanders guy, and the guy that kept speaking every now and then throughout the film--Charles something or other, the cynical guy. I also liked that guy who practically yelled his poetry to the audience, about jacking off and junk, his really repetitive poem. Richard would have just loved those guys. Oh yeah, and I liked that weird old lady with the funny-looking glasses reading poetry about getting high. Funny gal. Cool stuff. Loved the film.

2-17-95

Had a French midterm today. Have work tonight. Ah! Quel travail!

2-18-95

This is not much of a portfolio. So I think I'll include some of my old work...

How about a prose poem--or very, very short story, actually (since it's not really very poetic)--that I wrote a long time ago? Okay, here it is:

You Loved Me

You once said that the first time you ever saw me, you fell in love. You thought I was the most beautiful thing in the entire world, the most beautiful thing in the entire universe. You fell asleep every night with my image in your dreams. You became obsessed with me, and you would have done anything in the world to have me. You would have given your soul for me, but you had nothing--not a dime to your name. So you got a job. You worked very hard, and everyday you came by and looked at my window from across the street. You scrimped and saved your money with the dream of taking me out, until finally, you did, and I became yours. You took me away and brought me home, and you loved me. You thought I was too valuable, too precious, to treat lightly, so you spent every minute of your free time with me, caressing me and calling me your Baby. You gave me everything, whether I needed it or not, and you treated me with care. Nothing else was as important to you as I was, and you couldn't bear having me out of sight. You couldn't even stand having others near me, though you loved to show me off. You prized me, but you were very possessive. You wouldn't let others come close to me, let alone touch me, because I was yours, and yours alone. I made you feel sexy; I made you feel free; I made you feel powerful. You always felt that way when you were inside of me... But that was when you would get careless. You were too fast, too selfish. When you were inside of me, you lost any real concern for me. You would get wild and reckless, and although at other times you took care of me, at times like this, you would take more than you gave, and you would take my energy; you'd go too fast. And that last time... ah, that last time... you turned me on as you usually did, but then you went too fast and lost control; you drove me over the edge and up the wall, and that was the end... And now, as I sit in the dumps, a broken-down hopeless remnant of what I used to be, I wonder if men like you always treat their sports cars that way.

2-19-95

My cat has fleas. Dear God: Gone with the fleas, please. Thank you.

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