  I like to think I’m a pretty passive person. And when I do get angry, I don’t really show that I am. I like to stew things in my head, and just be mad inside until I forget about whatever triviality upset me. But today I got really, really pissed off. We were talking about Poetry Slams in Creative Writing, and watched a video on them. Oh. sweet. Jesus. They are such an amazing thing to see people perform. My favorite was Saul Williams. Here is one of his poems: she had eyes like two turntables mix(h)er in between my dreams and reality blend in ancient themes the bas(e)is of isis cross-faded to ankh the beat drops like a cliff over looking my heart Annica actually has won some of these contests before, and now I feel inclined to watch one live. But after the tape was over, our guest teacher (a student at EWU) asked if we had any comments. This one boy, who is such a lowlife and so unworthy of this class that I refuse to figure out his name, raised his ignorant hand and waved it around like you would expect from a second-grader.
Seriously, even the way that he enunciates words bothers me. “Like, that wasn’t even poetry. It was like bad freestlying. Like, it’s not poetry.” The awkwardness that everyone in the room felt was permeable. I was actually pretty stunned. The audacity of this boy with, no joke, frosted hair. Who is he to judge what is and is not poetry?! To top it off, his own writing is sub-par as far as this class is concerned. It’s all either cliché or about drug use, but neither articulate or thought-provoking.
Bottom line; he is what I called a fucktard. Several people started talking at once. It was a congregated noise of “ What the hell ?” “ Yes it is !” and “ You’re stupid ”. I loved it. ---------------------------------- Kate is leaving to New York, and it makes me long to write about the city again. All I will say is that the second I set foot in JFK I knew, I just knew, that is where I am meant to be.
I can’t imagine a life without that lullabye of people and cars and construction singing me to sleep in my imagined little apartment on 42nd. I want to sip overpriced coffee in the park and spend weekends shopping in SoHo. The music, the ease of being Vegan, the art, the people. All the things to see in that teeny tiny city. The air will never be the same in that crowded city, but I’ll sacrifice fresh air for fresh thinking. Affectionately… Anna 
