2002-03-01 11:29

Hairballs

High-maintenance hair

I'm this close, varied reader - this close - to just damn-well having the whole lot crew-cut off again. Yes. Sorry, hair - it's not you, it's me. I'm just not ready for this kind of commitment.

Thrust upon me

I don't write poetry. I don't want to write poetry. I think I could cope with being a poet - drinking espresso in Parisian cafés, staring moodily into the middle distance, tempestuous affairs of the heart and all that. The writing part I can do without, thanks all the same.

But lately I find myself not-sleeping at night, ambushed by phrases and fragments and words and rhythms which won't go away until I write them down. And I sigh, and reflect that - like pregnancy or constipation - it's going to come out whether I like it or not.