Scribbler's Cafe

Back from poetry camp

My office is dismantled. I have no phone jack for my laptop. I had to search down a computer and half a second of privacy to update my blog. We're crashing in guestrooms until the the day we depart for Japan. Now I sit at The Stomping Grounds in north Seattle and type feriously until my twenty minutes run out. All around me high school boys sit with death-grey faces glued to screens. They scream and shout at random intervals. Some wear headsets so they may insult their opponents sexuality in their own cracking voices. I came here to recap my love and war extravaganza at Crescent Lake, but in this atmosphere, I'll be happy just to read through the week's emails and keep a single train of thought.

My class was amazing. Life changing. I wasn't prepared for what would happen to me there by the lake. I am having a hard time reconciling myself to the reality of my current life as I've been living deeply in my mind and heart for an extended period of time. What, I have bills to pay? I'd rather sit in the shade by the lake and contemplate love, or walk over to the inn and talk art and war with my dear intellectual friend. Dinner with the inlaws? Don't I have a date at the campfire with ten rancourous friends and a couple of deer?

This experience was a lovely closing to my college career. Eh?

posted by Scribbler @ Sunday, August 08, 2004