hello, good friend

My dad reminded me at the beginning of the semester, “It’s a blessing to work hard.”

I think he jinxed me.

I’m gonna be candid: a few months ago, when I still felt energized and not like I had been hit by a Mac truck, I had lots to say. Now, at the end of this ridiculously arduous semester, I just enjoy sitting. And occasionally breathing. (That was sufficiently melodramatic, eh?)

So here I am, reading the temporary filler text on some of the office publication proofs. Susan delivered a sample aloud – a delightful, impromptu “filler text slam,” if you will – and it made me wonder. If I were to arrange these words in blank verse, could I attribute the genius to myself and publish it as poetry? Brilliant.

Progressive tickets easily bought the subway even though
two sheep laughed uncomfortably.
Umpteen chrysanthemums sold
two tickets while Kling-ons tickled the warthogs.
Pawnbrokers auction off Mercury.
And Paul marries the mostly angst-ridden kisses
silly lampstands.
Sheep towed Paul.
Purple aardvarks, the dog gossips, all fight
the progressive cats. The botulism tastes
like a Macintosh.

Besides the utter absence of meaning, that totally belongs in a literary anthology.