Couch 197: The Minuscule Couch

And why am I on here anyway? I still have 2 poems to write!!

My "trace" poem is eluding me completely. I need to pick a different subject for now otherwise it will not get written before it is due tomorrow night.

I also have to write one based on the note-taking technique of sitting in a public space and writing down 20 images of things happening around me (which is also part of the assignment).

I liked this class yesterday. Today I am mad at it.

OK, I know it sounds weird, but next time you sous vide a steak, try putting a layer of peanut butter on one side. : sousvide

I don't even know what sous vide-ing is. I shall go click on the link.

eta: OH.

While I was buying my gf tater tots, the cashier turned out to be a student from one of my big lecture classes a couple years ago. He remembered me and the class, and after a couple seconds I managed to scrounge up his name from somewhere in my brain. And that he was a Yankees fan.

Good job. I barely know their names the semester they are in my class. I never can remember students out of context and if by chance I recognize them as having been students, their names completely escape me.

And about half the time I first read gf as girl friend rather than gluten free

ok I got one of my poems done. the prompt where we had to sit in a public space and make a list of things happening around us and then write a poem using that technique. i used blank verse as the form. i was going to share it but then i thought i better not if for some idiotic reason my prof ran across it here she might accuse me of plagiarism. Of course it is a terrible poem so why would anyone steal it, but hey. it's a stupid prompt after all! now i have to figure out this trace poem thing.

me too sd - reading gf as girl friend instead of gluten free

Well, you’ve both had girlfriends.

Speaking of which, art, are you looking for anyone?

Speaking of gf, this was in my inbox, for anyone interested.

7 Great Gluten-Free Breads, According to Someone Who Has Tried Them All | SELF

Not actively, no.

Well tbh though I did almost get whiplash the other day in the car trying to look back at a jogger we'd just driven past. I mean damn. She was hot and stuff. I may have even gasped a little.

I don't think h noticed. If he did he didn't say anything about it.

ok i have started my trace poem. i put away my first attempt for another time.
i am using "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening" as the master poem I am "tracing".

My first two lines:

"Who walked here last, I cannot say.
It must have been a long-passed day;"

I don't like feeling like a copy cat. Not one bit.

can I near-rhyme "day" with "certainty" ???

eta: nevermind. changing the line and using "disarray" instead works even better.

it is so much easier to spam the couch than to focus on my homework.

When I read the post from una re: ETs in stopdog's closet, I read it as erotic transferences.

Clearly I have been on this site way too long.

I need to scoop the litter boxes, which I passionately hate.

Stacy and Clinton probably would have passed out completely.

I need to do the same thing. And hate it equally as much.

Have you thought about a non-rhyming poem?

i decided to choose one that rhymes for the 2nd prompt, since I did blank verse for the 1st prompt (which doesn't rhyme). I got it though, just finished. Can't work too hard on it since upcoming assignments are rewrites.... haha

Has anyone discussed your financial situation, with actual numbers, with your therapist? Is that weird? What if it's 50/50 that you make more money than your therapist?

I guess for context I should say that I struggled a lot with money and debt until maybe 5 years ago. Now that I'm not struggling, it feels like a hollow, meaningless victory and I've expressed that to him.

Today I am really missing my exT I even have awful physical sensation of my skin being ripped off I thought I all that had passed. I sat in his car park briefly at lunchtime but left before he could come out

I'm limpy mclimperson today. I decided to windex the outside of my living room first thing this morning. Without shoes on. It was supposed to be quick and easy. Instead I tried to use the concrete bird bath as a leverage to prop my arm on while cleaning the window. The whole top came down and landed on my foot. Now it's pretty colors and swollen. Stupid bird bath...I didn't even buy it or wanted it, my father did.

I only hate scooping the litter trays when I am depressed other than that it is so much a part of my morning routine I hardly notice

Don’t you mean “Stopping by a Woods on a Snowy Evening”?