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So, over the past month I have graduated college, accepted a fulltime job doing marketing for a software company, bought a new car, and my girlfriend has moved in with me. Despite these time-sucking life changes I am still trying to find time to write for myself. One of the hardest things in growing up is finding accommodation for your passions under the ever-growing weight of responsibilities. My dwindling time spent on poetry, skateboarding, guitar, etc. is what some would call a bummer, but so it goes.

My blog posts have been infrequent and short over the past month, but I haven’t lost all hope. On the rare occasion I get personal inspiration, I’m doing my best to mold it into verse or prose. But for now, I’m going to lazily repost an old poem I wrote that deals with my thoughts before I got into this (actually quite wonderful) mess:

I’m at the comma splice in



Falling from textbooks and chalk,

Crawling toward goodlooks and talk,

Through society’s leatherdark parking lot.

A field of tar,

I yield in car,

Checking dashboard digital

Every five,

Awaiting the ‘open for business,’

Ready for 10,000 tomorrows

Of cell phones

Erupting 7 o’clock seizures

On my magazine massacred bedside.

I fear the predictably punctual

With open arms.

(note: the forth-to-last line should read “6 o’clock seizures”)