17 XI 2001 - 22:58 - brevis25

You know, every time I write about what I'm going to do for my Poetica-Collab entry, it comes back and bites me in the ass because I never get it done in time. Have I learned anything from that? Of course not! So here's what I'm planning to do:

The requirement this time around is that my first line must be: "Laughing, she danced across the moonlit bridge." Given that, I think I'm going to be writing a quasi-sestina. If you don't know what a sestina is:

A sestina is a poem in six verses of six lines each and an envoy of three lines; the terminal words of each line are repeated in an order which varies: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6; 6, 1, 5, 2, 4, 3; 3, 6, 4, 1, 2, 5; 5, 3, 2, 6, 1, 4; 4, 5, 1, 3, 6, 2; 2, 4, 6, 5, 3, 1; the envoy, which is composed of three lines, has the end-word pattern 5, 3, 1 but also has 2, 4, and 6 somewhere in those lines.

The reason the poem will be only a quasi-sestina is that, instead of writing it all on one subject (which I might do later), there will be one situation per verse (so essentially there will be six short poems unified by a greater form).

Tonight, I will do my Latin homework. Tomorrow, I will go and play well at our orchestra concert. Actually, it's looking more like I will spend tonight watching Anne of Green Gables with my sister and her friend. Yes, I'm a sap. Although you know, it still can't beat The Sound of Music; jeez, I wanted (still want!) to be Julie Andrews, you know, in the opening scene where she's in the hills twirling and singing as the opening music comes up?

No wrist brace can keep me down! I have happy hands and, by God, as long as it's this obvious I might as well be a conscious flamer, right? (Um, that was bad phrasing. Imagine something witty that goes along the lines of "If you can't beat them, join them.")

The above was probably not as much of a non sequitur as it seemed. Well, it made sense to me at least.

I wish I had enough spine to tell him anything. You know? Because it's always worse, the not knowing, than anything else. He knows. I can smell it. But, no. Because I have absolutely no intuition, because god *damn* it all, he's nice, and if he stops talking to me, then I've lost one of the two people who will talk to me in orchestra. And that would be... difficult, considering that my relationship with the other one goes through the whole roller-coaster ride because of our mood swings. So I'm not going to tell him anything except I know that I'm going to blurt out something awkward like:

"My God, you're beautiful."

Urgh, you know, if I could describe the color of his eyes, and if I could pin down what exactly makes him attractive to me (and not, say, to Al), I might just get over it.

Ha. We all believe that, yes?

(You know what brought this on? It was today's rehearsal, and the knowledge that I was going to ask him if he wanted to come out to lunch with Al and me, and the fact that it's going to be a couple of hours of sitting behind him at rehearsal, and if he ever visits this link, whee it's obvious, and god damn it he's straight so I shouldn't be worrying about this except someone tell me how to turn this off.)

lux, lucis f. light