Je Reve

I wrote a poem tonight, which I haven't done in a very long time.

Actually, I had a bath tonight, and the poem just happened. I take far too many baths, but I don't write a lot of poetry. I am primarily a story teller, plus I enjoy using many words, which most people might say does not mesh well with the poetic form. However, occasionally I'm inspired. Which usually means I'm feeling dangerously sentimental and/or I've had one glass too many.

When I was in college, I had a passion for Baudelaire and Andre Breton, and I wrote quite a lot of poems in what was probably quite atrocious French. But my professor liked them, and my boyfriend at the time didn't speak it, so he couldn't judge and didn't care (unless it involved me dressed as a French maid while reading them -- look, there's that naughty maid thing again). But it was somehow easier to play around in another language; because I had a limited grasp, I wasn't trying to pick between hundreds of words to find just the right combination, alliteration, cadence, etc.

And to jump to an entirely unrelated topic, am I the only person wondering why the hell no one is reading Ayn Rand? With everything going on in the economy, nationalization of the US banking industry looming, and the election becoming a popularity contest, Atlas Shrugged should be required reading (but maybe not all 927 pages of John Galt's speech from the hidden location, which will make just about anyone throw the book across the room and/or set fire to anything in reach).