Where to begin this blog post that once again is far too late in being written much unlike blogs are supposed to be in that the events I am about to describe happened oh I don't know, three, four? days ago. On Wednesday. There, now we're clear on the time frame within which to understand the written words shining through our electronic devices that are some day to be the death of us all.
There was a poetry reading contest in a far away place of Maribor on Wednesday and for reasons unknown I had signed up for it a week prior to said event. Needless to say, in my enthusiasm I had completely neglected the fact that I've not written a single piece of poetry in about three years; surprise surprise, come the day of terror I had only half of a poem written.
But as luck would have it the day was completely free of all obligation so verily I could write some poetry then and have it ready for the contest. Right? Wrong. When my lass came hopping through the door ready for us to leave for a great journey in a few hours I still had only half a poem written. Later she confessed she thought me quite daft, but at the time she mentioned naught. We put our hairy heads together and before you can say "that is one big bug in your buttery toast that is attempting to steal your thunder and eat your toast" or figure out what it means we had two more poems written. In the device of timeleaping frogginess, otherwise known as a car, she managed to write two more.
The club wherein the event was taking place was full of strange people and an electricity in the air that made me have terrible stage fright. Oh I'm too late, oh everyone else is so much older, oh I haven't prepared properly. oh I'm just a hack, oh why do I even fool myself into thinking that I can write ... and things like that. But a few whiskeys later I was all ready and the more I was on stage, the more I loved it. Have I mentioned this was my first time ever being on a stage of any kind?
In the end I finished third and received a surprising amount of congratulatory words from everyone in the club. For one reason or another they seemed to have liked me. I can't understand why. One of them even ventured so far as to say that yeah, the poetry was alright as well. Strange people ...
The title is maths and poetry right? Well here's the maths part. Tomorrow there is a very difficult and terribly daunting maths midterm waiting for me, sorry, analysis, for which I have done nothing more than procrastinate studying and be a generally bad student.
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