"sledge-hammer"

stanford has such a beautiful campus i felt the need to destroy it with a sledge-hammer or, at the very least, steal a thing or two. i got an easel. andinh got a coat rack. i felt like i was one of ocean's eleven. i played it cool and duct taped my loot onto the roof of evelyn's suv. what are suvs good for if you can't stash your stolen goods in them?

i haven't written poetry in a week. poetry really stabalizes my life. this past week i've felt so wishy washy with nothing grounding me. poetry keeps me in check and tames my ragious thoughts and feelings. i notice that the things i think up may be bold or daring but i have a hard time follinwg through with any of it. what does that make me? a monkey?

oh, and i almost got killed (or at least badly brutalized) because of paranoia and a tasty cookie the other night.

ps: this just puts a smile on my face:
la dyc fu 111: ps. everyoen tonight LOVED the fyckin flyers

i'm not gonna be able to sleep. i'm too excited about tomorrow night. it's poetics baby.