walking over my own grave
Sep. 1st, 2003 11:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tylikOr something like that. So I was typing up some of my more recent poetry (not a lot of it) so I could have some stuff to play with on the device. Not sure how the device will do long term as an major editing tool, but it works well for getting ideas down, and for final polishing. I've had kind of a weird partial block about poetry for the last few years (probably not a great loss to humanity) but I'm starting to think about how to get through it...)
Anyhow, I pulled out a couple of folders of old poetry to see if I could find a couple of pieces. And found all but one of them, BTW (I'm hoping a friend has a copy of that one...) But what was weird wasn't the poems themselves, most of which I could probably have reconstructed from memory, but the marginalia -- notes on the other poems being read, notes I was passing to another student (and being passed for that matter)...
What a weird class. I still wonder if the professor would have irritated me half as much in different circumstances... I suspect at least half as much, anyway.
And that being the case, why did my writing improve so much under him?
Anyhow, I pulled out a couple of folders of old poetry to see if I could find a couple of pieces. And found all but one of them, BTW (I'm hoping a friend has a copy of that one...) But what was weird wasn't the poems themselves, most of which I could probably have reconstructed from memory, but the marginalia -- notes on the other poems being read, notes I was passing to another student (and being passed for that matter)...
What a weird class. I still wonder if the professor would have irritated me half as much in different circumstances... I suspect at least half as much, anyway.
And that being the case, why did my writing improve so much under him?
