Denied. Chocked on the Open NEt!

People still ask me what i want to be when i grow up. At this age they still ask me. i am not always sure what to tell them?

Do i tell them i want to be Bukowski? Drunk and poetic– too soon turned off by the world and subsiding only on the words that keep his breath afloat?

Will anyone believe it is i say i am content with this? Because, of course i am not. The U of A REJECTED my graduate school application. i am depressed and sad, but this time everyone might be right– maybe it is good because i was meant to be in a better school. At Bard of Bennington maybe. Yeah right. Being optimistic is truly tiring.

So, here i am, back at square one. OH! But Wait! i was published. Five of MY poems were published in a real book. My words sat there in front of me. i felt so alien from them because i never thought i would see such a thing.

Oh, this is all craziness.

And i feel like Old Bukowski sometimes. Like You Palahniuk. Sitting with my words telling my heart to beat. Telling it to beat so i can bleed out writing and circulate vicodin. Sometimes i think about this all and how i am no where near what i wanted to be at this ancient age. This damned quarter life.

Maybe Bennington next year. Maybe more publications. Maybe death. Maybe love.

But maybe nothing too. i guess i won’t know until i get there. 

Damn You U of A. But thanks too.