A Poem, Tracy Turnblad, and Allen Ginsberg

Stuck in Traffic

Glistening clouds of chemical smoke
Roll over their hard metal skin
And stumble off to the sky
Where they will eat a hole into heaven
Their rumbling asthsma mingling together
The drone of mechanic bees
And through their transluscent kaleidoscope eyes
You can see their squirming organs
Pulsating issues of pale white
Twitching and jerking then suddenly still
These hard metal creatures glide over
Gray veins on the earth with liquid movement
Automated salmon swimming upstream
A rainbow colony of busy insects
Crawling about with a serene choreography
Programmed by some unseen director
Who perhaps hides away in the clouds



I don't remember if I've told you. But I've joined the school musical: Hairspray. I don't really have a part because this is my first time in a music at this school, so I'm just sort of in the chorus, although they're thinking about casting me as IQ on the Corny Collins Council for those of you familiar with the musical.

But I came home from rehearsal today tired and angry and whiny and hungry. I was in a terrible mood. I've had a stressful first week back to school. My computer crashed, to top it all off. (I'm blogging from my mom's computer now.) So I was certainly grumpy. But then I cheered up because I discovered that my Dad has met Allen Ginsberg, (author of Howl), and has both a signed copy of the poem from him and a post card he wrote. Dad wrote to Ginsberg and sent him one of his own poems, and Ginsberg wrote back and critiqued the poem. I nearly wet myself when I was told this. He showed me the post card and the book and it was so amazing my brain exploded.

So now I'm in a good mood. Which is good.

Sorry about the lack of posting. It's been since, you know, my computer crashed. But what can you do, huh?

I saw It's a Wonderful Life for the first time ever last week. Fantastic movie. More on that later.

Adieu,
-Christopher