Saturday 10 July 2010

Maybe.

So my Vogon poetry didn’t evince any accolades. My Ode to Childhood Rebellion won’t be taking its place in Palgrave’s Golden Treasury either, I suppose. Oh dear.

Maybe I shouldn’t write any more poetry. Maybe I’m not very good at it. Maybe I should write about cabbages and kings instead. Maybe I should moan about the fact that fashion models get paid a lot more money than coal miners, presumably because we think they’re worth more.

Later.

6 comments:

Maria Sondule said...

I'm willing to bet a lot more people are willing to be fashion models than coal miners. More demand=more pay. Also, models are more likely to be high-maintenece, and would require a bigger pay to do work. But that's just stereotyping.
And if it's Vogon poetry, remember that its only the SECOND worst poetry in the universe. You're still better than someone! ;D

Anonymous said...

Third worst, no?

Adored your little ditty below but couldn't seem to post my gushing comment.
Man proposes, blogger diposes, evidently.

lucy said...

I liked it, keep going! Write whatever fills your head, or occupies our mind. It's practically the only way to get rid of them.

JJ said...

Maria: You're right, I know. It's why I want to stop the world and get off sometimes.

Lady India: Was it? I'd have to read Hitchhikers again. And you, gush? Never! You might wear torn jeans, drive a Ford Mondeo and be a Big Mac junkie for all I know. But in my mind, you're cool, sophisticated and exotic. Oh, and just a little cynical and dismissive of empty excesses. I'm often wrong.

Lucy: Stay as sweet as you are (that's another song you might like.)

Anonymous said...

What's a Ford mondeo? Are gushing and being sophisticated mutually exclusive?

Fraid there's very little exotic about me. Unless you mean exotic in the literal sense, as in foreign.

JJ said...

1) Ford Mondeo: the car that defines a person as worldly-obsessed at the lowest level. Or so it is reputed.

2) I would say so, if we mean sophisticated in the more abstract sense.

3) Partly, but that would make us all exotic to somebody. wouldn't it? Just a bit more than that, I think, and I'm entitled to my imagination.