It's 12 degrees outside in Ames today (real feel clocked in at -11 degrees). That's bloody cold. I hate the winter, sometimes I wonder if I really am allergic to the cold. It would only make sense, I mean when the wind chill sweeps through my brass buttons, I quickly feel it in my spine. It shivers down to my toes, where I curl up in defense. It's not normal when you get the hives from the brisk invisible ice that flows through the air as it lands on your nakedness. It's not normal. That's not normal. I'm scared of the cold... scared enough to be described as deathly.
*cue in epiphany* I'm allergic to the cold.
I ate at Linden dining center tonight, which is right across the street. For some reason, there were cuties everywhere, and I don't just mean to my right, left, front, and behind me. THEY WHERE EVERYWHERE. They were hiding in my pepsi, inside my fuckin pasta, next to my salad, even next to my fucking elbows and kneecaps. It was bloody glorious. GLORIOUS. *If I didn't have so much control, they all totally would have been giving me dome for dinner. Of course, I denied 75 percent of them that asked me to give them a snow looking meal due to respect of myself. The other 25 percent... gave them a raincheck.*
I'm catching up on the 2008 Urban Word NYC Teen Poetry Slam Finals. Spoken word is so epic. All you readers really need to peep this stuff, it is so boss. The inflexions, adjectives, nouns, verbs, all of it and how it can string together to move an audience. The art of speaking is powerful. I can't help but feel inspired when I hear this stuff. It's so real. So very real.
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