and in the wee hours…
Don’t tell anybody but I stayed up really late last night. You can probably tell, in fact, from the way I leer and drool at everyone today. -But the important thing is not to tell anyone I was, y’know… writing. A poem. That annoying habit reared its head in the late evening and I spent hours pondering and scribbling. Trying to find the best way to work in the story of the Trojan Horse, because that’s what I do when I’m short on material. I even came up with this line, a complete embarrassment:
soft like a sneeze on the nighttime breeze
Pfft. It’s pretty lame, don’t you think? (But to tell you the truth I’m secretly pleased - greasy rhymes like these appease my faculties. It’s a disease and I’m seized like six JD’s. Or I freeze with a beard of bees to my knees; careful not to disrupt the, er peas.) So tonight I’ll edit. Just keep quiet and don’t let it get around. Real men don’t write poems, do they?
And in case you didn’t know, it’s my birthday on Sunday.
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Real men don’t write poems. Real men write sonnets and sing with feathers in their caps with a lute for accompaniment.
Comment by Switch — Tuesday October 18 2005 @ 12:58 pm
Nothing sexier than a man in feathers and a lute.
Comment by nailpolishblues — Tuesday October 18 2005 @ 1:01 pm
birthday, huh? got any plans? wanna paint the town nerd and have drunk old time?
Comment by Glen — Tuesday October 18 2005 @ 2:47 pm
Happy birthday to you. You live in a zoo. You look like a monkey, and you smell like one too.
- Anon.
Comment by Clare — Tuesday October 18 2005 @ 5:33 pm
Aw, how cute, nerds on the piss. See, now this one I’d be tempted to join in. Alas, I’ll be drinking myself silly elsewhere. Will have a drink or ten [the least, no really, I can do] in your honour :p
Comment by nailpolishblues — Tuesday October 18 2005 @ 6:51 pm
Switch - sounds like a self-serving definition to me.
Nails - I wonder if most women feel that way. It could be a new ‘thing’ for me.
Glen - sure, I think James is free on the weekend or something as well. Am I right?
Clare - everything I write is dedicated to you. When you gonna leave yo’ man and come shack up with me?
Comment by Mark — Tuesday October 18 2005 @ 11:13 pm
Real men write whatever they want. The feathers, lute, and tights are just a bonus for the audience.
Happy birthday in advance, dear Mark.
Comment by BourbonBird — Tuesday October 18 2005 @ 11:14 pm
Just ask Bourbs about my, ah, fixation for the nerds and geeks of the world. [Better yet, did no one read my interview with Adam?] I’m sure this has also [shameless plug] been mentioned from time to time in LighterFluid. Might start a club. :)
I’m not so keen on the tights though, very like cyclists shorts - too much information. Otherwise, I second Bourbs on the real men thing.
No wait, we you talking about the drinking thing?
Anyway, have a great day.
Comment by nailpolishblues — Wednesday October 19 2005 @ 1:14 am
Sorry I thought your birthday was on Saturday. Have a great day on Sunday.
Glad your writing poetry you real man you do you eat quiche (don’t know if I spelt that right) too. You need lots of sleep.
love from a nerd.
Comment by Gabby — Wednesday October 19 2005 @ 2:05 am
Thanks guys. Love ya Gabby ;)
Comment by Mark — Wednesday October 19 2005 @ 9:59 pm
Hm - a shack? I don’t know; I’m an architect.
Comment by Clare — Thursday October 20 2005 @ 8:48 am
We can renovate!!
Comment by Mark — Friday October 21 2005 @ 7:26 pm