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Friday. *flops* Thank god.

Yesterday got hectic and crazy towards the end, and then I got home and was waylaid forcibly into watching Searching For Richard, which is sort of a picking-apart of Richard III with an eye towards showing the social context for the play as well as the preparations of the actors for the roles. It was interesting, but there was also a lot of artistic masturbation going on, and it's hard for me to untangle Richard III The Shakespeare Play from the history of Richard the Third, who 1. was not a hunchback, 2. didn't kill the princes, and 3. got extremely shafted by history. Then I fell asleep from all my righteous indignation.

I need to do so much tomorrow and I don't want to do any of it. I need new work shoes and new sneakers and a haircut and a bunch of other stuff and oh my god, the sofa, it CALLS TO ME.

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Two poems for Poetry Month, seeing as yesterday I was too insane to remember. :D We have a Welshman cursing the dying of the light, and an Englishman praising renewal.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
and learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

( Do Not Go Gentle )

From head to tail
Came out clear plates of sapphire mail.

( Dragonfly )