If i was playing scrabble and had the letters in front of me, I would spell out this poem. It would take an awful lotta time though, typing is easier. But if I had scrabble it would be right in front of me, the big letters carved on chips of wood, smooth and each with a number identifying it’s value. Some of the more unique letters, like X and Q and Z, are more valuable but used less. I feel like that, too. Maybe I’m a narcissist. Or just terminally unique. It would probably be best that I disregard all numbers on letter chips of wood. Why can’t those goddam numbers have their own chips of wood anyway? Why do they have to go ahead and latch themselves on to the letter chips? I mean, get a life already. Well, I’m sure they have one anyway. Otherwise the entire universe wouldn’t be able to be broken down to a numeric mathematical equation only the ancient Greeks could solve. I prefer the Greeks to the Romans. They especially know how to scam the Europeans for money when economic times are hard. Anything to keep the party going. I used to be that way. Party always going. I got real tired of it and now I’m the opposite. Life is still a party. But it’s a goddam working party.
|K self 02.2016|