Hitting the road again...

So I started writing again. It's strange how encouraging reading other writers' words on the craft of writing is, especially for someone who has always tried to be a world unto himself. But anyways, here's a bit of me showering excerpted from a longer part, which just a part of another part to be endlessly disengorged and toiled

I have also noticed that the drain has been slowing becoming more and more clogged, so I pee while still squatting to feel the temperature of the water before I divert the water up the shower pipe and to stretch the lumbar region of my back by slumping over while gauging and not seeing anything but my own toes, which need to be cut as Mom suggested. What if it gets caught and ripped from its bed because of overgrowth or poor discernment in one’s actions? I know that the water is just right when I cannot keep my hand in it any longer at which point I begin turning the knob to the left until it actually turns and I stand up against the left corner where I can breathe more clearly through the chink in the corner still dry under the showerhead just in case it is still hot so that possibly nothing will get burned in which case. I spent all yesterday after work thumbing through essays online on one of the three works that today’s potential missing tutee is supposed to juxtapose in her final paper and had consumed only one cup of water in the relatively sacred act. After awhile when the water level was covering my tiny toe I forced myself against the wall under the showerhead so that the water massaged my neck and the left hand kneading it there. Then I thought of the growth there, then instead I put myself sidewards and faced the tiled wall and swapped the temperature up on it and pushed myself up while keeping stuck my arm so to stretch apart the sore muscles with the therapeutic water massaging. I keep this for a whole minute, counting with seconds composed of breaths and thinking of the beach and how much greener it looked from the bridge we drove to get somewhere one time before the fun of it was threatened by the reality of the shark and the coldness of the deep turned the saltiness into bile and at my feet was the mix of soap, mucus, shampoo, and piss up to my ankles and covered myself one last time before slamming off the water and the towel to sop myself from head-to-toe. Stepping out over the tub I spread my shirt and my underwear with my feet to step only on them over the green absorbent rug. With my hair I only rub through it above my ears since I do not want any unnecessary losses to accrue on top where it matters, since I’ve been wanting my ears to show more these days. The lotion is against the mirror so I slide it to the corner closer to me and pump almost all the way down blots one each per pair and again for back and front of my body and one last time the same amount to appoportion between the back of my beaten neck and my face, since I haven’t been able to bring myself to bring home face lotion on my way home yet. While drying around my ears and to the back of my head, looking down, I notice my underwear is a browner shade, and without my glasses I fear the worst. But it must just be the one I wore that one windy fine day I thought of in the state just before. After it all I give up my towel to the curtain beam and leave my clothes where they lay for the laundry later once the steam clears up.


And some fruitful quotes from Ezra Pound: "Fundamental accuracy of statement is the one sole morality of writing." - "Literature is news that stays news."

And from the inimitable Stephen Colbert: "I'm not a fan of facts. You see, facts can change, but my opinion will never change, no matter what the facts are."

What are you favorite quotes and why??

Oh, and poetry is still to come.

http://news.yahoo.com/nphotos/3D-Street-Art-Edgar-Mueller/ss/events/wl/0513113dstreetart#photoViewer=/ydownload/20110513/photos_net_web_wl/1305300052