rewind remix.

i know that when i blog i usually write more, creatively. so i’m blogging. so i can write more creatively. but not exclusively for that reason. i like to talk shit. i like to talk politics. i like to talk. or write. whatever.

a few days ago, i was searching through all these boxes of papers and notes and bills and trees that i brought to wilmington because i save everything. i was looking for my birth certificate, which i think i lost in my high school locker senior year. i have to have it to apply for a passport, which i think is stupid. all of the information that matters can be found on my driver’s license or whatever can be pulled up from my social security number, and i have the card. why does it have to be certified that i was born and why am i responsible to saving that document?

i don’t like my identity being marginalized into documents and social security numbers.
or loosing half of it and being quarantined from access to yet another qualifying document:
passport.

not the point. i never found the damn thing but did instead spend an entire day reading through scraps of writing and poetry and stories and movie scripts and plays from about age three onward. i have always been writing. i owe something to that, mainly, not stopping now because beer and school and life distract me.

i wanted to post these.

the preschool archives:

once i got in truble:

once i got in truble, becase i blew a buble big. i beged and beged and beged my mother if i could pop it with a twig. my mother said i could and i relly relly sould, i trided and trided and trided and then. . .POP! it would!

school:
school is boring school is great! the teacher gets mad when you are late! take out your lunch box take out your stuff. you lurn to be smart, you lurn to be tough.

fall is here:
leaves are turning in the morning. fall is here. fall is here. fall is here. leaves are turning, it gets more cillyer, fall is here fall is here fall is here. fall is here!

lost:
there was a dog and he got lost. and fell in a river and his stuf got tosed. the dog got mad. and then his dad chad came to pick him up!

the witch with the itch:
there was a witch who fell in a ditch sense then she had a very bad itch. she scached and scached but it made it even wores she even trided rideing a houres.

faces:
most people make sad faces. some people make mad faces. but do you know what? i like makeing glad faces!

my name is taylor herbert:
my name is taylor herbert i live in a boul of shubert. i like my last name herbert. thank you very much! i hope we get in touch one day!

camping:
camping is fun, i love to jump and run, out in the sun today. most people get sick. and they allso get pricked. and camping is fun by the way.

if i had a lot of money:
if i had a lot of money, i would buy myself a bunny, and this bunny would be funny by the way.

once we had a fire:
once we had a fire. and we relly had to addmire. that fire was bad. and it made us relly mad. don’t worry because we ran out in a hurry. and my dogs are relly furry by the way!

bed:
i do not like to go to bed. all my pincells are out of led. i do not like to go to bed!

the sea:
the sea is fun. people reast out in the sun. i like callacting seashells. i also like hereing seatales. lisen to the waves, they allways get jumpy, the sand is relly bumpy. i love the sea!

the turtle named murtle:
there was a tutle, his name was murtle, because he was from murtle beach. he went to school and his teacher was not there to teach. so he went home to celibrate his brother’s birthday in may. then he went to the beach to stay!

there was a yong witch:
there was a young witch on halloween night. she fell in a ditch with alot of fright. she called to her bat and best fat cat. she called to her mother and her two year old brother. she called to her broom, locked in her room. she started to pout and ate her a trout. and then she got out!
(note: my first taste of publication, this poem. the fayetteville observer, baby).

now, homework for myself. come back to the entry and write a poetic response to each of these. maybe even question my early fascination for the scenery of ditches. the end.