There is a sport around here which involves riding a raft behind a speeding boat. Generally speaking, the goal of the person driving the boat is to throw the person on the raft into the water, and the goal of the person on the raft is to hang on for dear life. When you do fall off, you hurl into the water at such speeds that it feels like hitting concrete and for a moment, before your life jacket pulls you to the surface, you have no idea which way is up. Getting back from the road trip felt a little like that.
I had two poetry shows that I’m supposed to be getting off the ground, and people from every corner asking about these things. One show is just beginning, with people who were part of it threatening to drop out, and the other show needs a rebranding, including a new name, and did I mention it’s taking place at a venue where the owner just died?
Needless to say, the last few weeks have been very stressful. But the first show got off the ground (and is getting a new name!) and being in June, we celebrated Pride month, and I tried my hand at some rainbow eyeshadow.
And I had so much fun with that, I decided to do some Slytherin eyeshadow and support my house.
And then I made a new shirt.
The artistic endeavors have been helping me get out of my panic. The next show is tomorrow, so here’s to hope.
And the monkeys don’t like us. They sit on the ladders to their windows and yell that we’re taking their land. They look down on us like we don’t have enough fur for them, but I don’t see how something so furry could survive in all this heat. We hear them in the night, complaining about what the world is coming to, with the likes of us moving in, as if there isn’t enough room in the rain forest for everyone, as if there aren’t tree houses aplenty. Mom says they just don’t like different. And sure, there’s a human neighborhood across the canopy, but the schools here are better, and we’ve got the right to send our kids anywhere we choose.
Hi there. It’s me, your author. Remember all those times you said you just wanted to be something– to do something with your life. You just wanted your life to have meaning? Well congratulations! You finally get your wish. No, you’re not going to be a big hero. You’re not going to get superpowers or invent some fancy new technology, but you are going to save the world. How? Well, by dying of course. It’s a lot like religion see– every story needs a sacrifice. Because stories are about learning lessons, and it’s through losing things that we learn. Think about Romeo and Juliet. Those families never would have learned to love each other if their children hadn’t died. So it’s an honor, really. I picked you, out of everybody in the whole book, to die. So that way, the people reading could learn the lesson. And everyone around you will change for the better. Don’t you see, you are going to fix everything! Aren’t you happy? This is what you always wanted.
Posting later than usual because I have been busy worldbuilding! I’m creating a SFF world of multiple interconnected planets for a classroom RPG which you will hear more about in the upcoming months. But with some help from Artefexian, I decided to give playing around with different plant colors a try. And with it, I chose to imagine a poem that someone on this planet might write.
The first thing you notice when arriving on the planet of Isinnai are the vast, sweeping valleys of lavender. Here, all the plants are purple. And you wonder what the first colonists thought to see an entire planet drowning in vegetation. Perhaps it is what people think when they look at us. They see us wrapped in nothing but discolored vines pale green and blue flowers bloom across our cheeks And they do not understand
It is said the first colonists, upon seeing these colors worried the planet had been cursed by the gods. And built altars and sent up prayers that they might restore blessings to the land. They brought in their own green plants as a means of purification. But like those purple leaves we will pay no heed to their words. We will merely bask in the sunlight that causes them to crisp.
Testing is over! Now we can have class again! Oh. School’s out next week…
On a side note, I recently heard that while haiku are nature related, there is another 5-7-5 form that is not about nature, meaning this is actually something else suffering from a case of mistaken identity. But being a sacrilegious slam poet, I don’t differentiate.