Uh-oh, I feel an interweb confessional coming on.  Ready? I’m totally addicted to reading Twilight.  A friend lent it to me and I thought, “yeeaaahhh, teenage vampire book, righteo”. 

And yes I do talk that way to books that lay unread on my shelf, that’s part of the confession.  And then I picked it up because I figured if I got it back to her soon she’d lend me Gargoyle which I can’t wait to read.  So I started reading and, bang, I’m addicted. 

I’ve been pretty good lately about reading decent stuff.  Not the kind of stuff I mumble about when someone with more than a grade 4 education asks politely what I’ve been reading.  But I guess I’ve slipped. 

I mean sure, the main character blushes too much and I get tired of hearing about his white teeth, like OK I get it.  But it’s fun.  Also, I grew up in Vancouver so hearing about the lack of sun, non-stop rain and moss-covered everything makes me sorta homesick, you know?

And who can’t relate to the story?  Who hasn’t fallen head over heels for someone and realized there are *issues*.  Maybe it’s bad timing or someone’s got a mild addiction to something expensive.  But is that really so far away from – gee I wonder if he’ll suck my blood on the first date or wait until the third when he knows me better?  We’re all human.  Or most of us.

Honeybunny bugs me fiercely.  Like, “maybe you’d like to read *this* book, oh no wait, there are no teenage vampires in it”.  But don’t think he gets off scott-free.  I throw back, “how’s the Gormenghast Trilogy going, it must break your arm it’s so thick, they just can’t fit that much boring into a skinny book.”

Yesterday I got an update from my friend.  She tells me she’s reading all 500 pages of Gargoyle aloud to her Hot New Man & Soul Mate.  She says it’s not going well, they keep getting distracted.  I guess by the 11:00 news, or the cat or something.  Whatever it is, I’m not seeing it anytime soon.  I could always continue the Twilight series.

Anyhoo, I’m stepping away from the PC to read, in the meantime I’ll elevate this blog posting with a poem from a blog post I found today.

Archaic Torso of Apollo, a Translation for Bored Children.
After Rilke, by Catherine J. Coan

eyeball ripening
in the head

candle in the chest

in and of
and in itself
and of it

did you know
you didn’t know

loins
smile

don’t think of buttcrack
here you mustn’t think of it

think of the shoulders
or a waterfall

you see
a cat and a star
and an unframed frame
and here is the thing

don’t think buttcrack
otherwise you’ll never
beget what he meant

no snickering
this is a museum

the statues have no arms
because they fell off
from strangling stupid kids like you

do you want to be a serious poet or what