we'll lead as two kings!!!!

You know that old joke "what's worse than finding a worm in your apple? Finding half a worm" is a lot less funny when it ACTUALLY HAPPENS TO YOU. Oh well. I guess that's the price you pay when you buy organic apples.

mm. protein.

I have already had a merrily productive day, finishing up my assignment for my final project, 10 pages of a new project as well as hacking out some poems. Now I have said it before, but the only kind of poetry I know how to write is bad poetry which I am now going to inflict on you, my loyal and long-suffering readers. This is a poem I wrote while happily anticipating going swimming in Greece entitled "My Favourite Element." Hopefully your intestines won't attempt to strangle your brains in an act of self-preservation.

Cool cool water that laps around my skin, my flesh for once immersed in an immensity greater than its own. I am weightless. Not light not skinny, weightless, free floating in a dream of wetness that give me a graceful ecstasy of joy and contentment. I skim the skin of the water, buoyant, light, now I am a needle diving into the flesh, burying myself in the veins and currents of the sweet water. Waterbaby me! My only regret that I have to come up for air. The seaweed that is my hair fans out about me, now clinging to my smiling cheeks, now moving of it’s own volition through the water and I cannot call it back! –for am not I also moving of my own volition through this beautiful beautiful wetness that I love so much? This leg, so clunky and stumbleful on land, now becomes as graceful as a swan’s wing, propelling me surely through the waves. This hand, already bent up with typing and scratched with work has transformed into a fin, pulling, slicing, moving with and through the water. Resistance and release. to move myself and to be moved by the beast which hugs the earth, which I now hug gleefully as a child returning to the candy jar. If I open my eyes underwater nothing is clear. And everything is as it should be. Am I warm? Am I cool? Have I ever left the womb? Have I ever been so happy? To run across the scratchy stretch of sand and launch myself into the blue mother, to live for that moment when I can lift my feet away from resisting earth and find myself submerged, supported, buoyant and flying. To create miniature tsunamis with my joyful hands—to reach and grab and watch splinters of water fall through my fingers. I cannot touch the bottom. There is a million miles between me and the bottom, between me and the shore, between me and the sky. I am suspended between! Look how I have become. No ballerina could twirl more gracefully in her tutu than I can in my wave-lace. It is the nature of the water that appeals to me, my hand moving through, but never able to hold, to keep. It is this fleeting moment, the joy of here, now, here, now, here, now, here, now, here, now, here now, here now the demand of being here and now to enjoy to feel to seek to sleekly slide through, but always here and now, never bottled up for later. What bottle could contain such joy? I sit on a train. I splash the last swallow of water in my bottle. I shiver delightedly thinking about the day when I can splash that water all over myself! I laugh just thinking about it. Strangers look at me curiously. I am a stranger. I am no stranger to the ocean. The water that has greeted me the world over waits for me again, and when I return it will be as a wayward adventurer coming home unlooked yet hoped for. Joyous I shall be, joyous I shall run and I will splash, I will slide, I will sigh, happiness will be my watchword, innocent as baby kisses and relaxed as a patch of sleeping sunlight. This flesh, this skin yearns to be submerged and subdued. To be carried and supported. To dive and to surface. To see the faces looking back at me curiously as I plash with a smile on my face. To be coolly wet and wholly alive.