I know, I know, I know. You’re all waiting with bated breath to hear about the rest of my Christmas trip to the States, and it’s now almost April and you’ve heard nothing. You’re sick and tired of my blasé attitude, and you don’t know why you don’t just give up this wild goose chase and go read a better blog. Maybe you’ve already given up – in this, I’m addressing those of you not reading this post, those of you who have read my past entries and have not, in fact, borne with me until now. I don’t blame you. I don’t. I’ve neglected you, Readers, and I don’t expect your forgiveness, I don’t expect you to accept my peace offering.
But there is a peace offering.
I have not yet written my last post about America. It may come soon – I hope it will. However, ladies and gentlemen, I have composed a short piece of heartfelt poetry for your entertainment. While it was composed during my current, Spring, visit to Ohio, and is therefore something of an anomaly on my timeline, it could also refer to any and all visits in the past and future, and for that reason I consider it to be appropriate. I do hope you enjoy it. I have called it “Ode de Toilette”, a title which I imagine you will appreciate especially, Jenny-bo-Benny.
Without further ado, I present to you my latest masterpiece of modern literature. Notice the strict decasyllabic line structure and the embraced ABBA rhyme scheme. Yeah, bitches.
Ode de Toilette
O, you American airport “restroom”
How happy I am at the sight of thee.
You know of the trials imposed upon me
By this eternal day of gloom and doom.
But Alas! memories too late arise;
I see now why I did not miss you more;
I smell your distinct, non-feminine odore –
Familiar, yet an unpleasant surprise.
And as I remove my baggages two,
And throw them, exhausted, down to the floor,
I notice that gaping crack in the door,
And feel uneasy, as anyone would do.
What if some fellow bathroomer outside
My tiny cubicle reserved for me
Happens to glance in the mirror and see
Some private habit I rather would hide?
What if some dishonest next-door neighbour
Should grab at one of my rucksack’s stray straps,
Whisk it away before I can react?
Could those floor-to-wall gaps BE much higher?
O you American airport toilette,
You are so full of dirty, used tissers;
But you surpass the customs officers
In terms of your welcoming etiquette.
I will leave you with this short snippet of my last journey to America for the foreseeable future. There is more narration to come, although when it will come remains a mystery, as always. I hope this update is enough to encourage you to bear with me as I set my affairs in order and get cracking on a brief word or thousand about my last visit, and finally get on with the other thousand or so words I have to say about the first couple of days of Spring Break.
I’ll also leave you with a couple of my favourite blog posts from my feed. (I love the imagery in the word “feed” when used to refer to the internet. It’s so true to life). Anyway, if you’re reading this post in March 2011, I’m guessing you’ve already subscribed to me on your RSS feeds; if not, seriously, get Google Reader and start subscribing to stuff. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be enjoying the quality of life I have today. Among my favourite new additions are The 404‘s snidey and excellent podcast on cnet.com, and Design*Sponge, who provide me daily with a steady stream of new fabric lines, snippets of beautiful and inspiring homes, and, most recently, a short history of curtains by which I am suddenly highly intrigued, in keeping with my tendency to want to read any and all things as soon as I realise someone thinks it’s interesting enough to write about.
Anyway, that’s it for now – I’m going to try and do some more reading for my linguistics paper while Grant works on his mock litigation for his Civil Procedure class. Please do watch this space as I’m going to make a much bigger effort to keep up the posting this time around. I really am.
Aight, peace out y’all.