How My Brain Works
This morning, while perusing tweets from Phillies beat writers that I follow I came across this:
Baseball is like poetry: it can drive you insane if you do it for a living. Cody Asche got some therapy last night: http://t.co/hp9UYyslGD
— David Murphy (@ByDavidMurphy) May 7, 2014
I’m not trying to pick on David Murphy with this post– I bet he’s a nice guy. I’m just trying to figure it out, since both poetry and the Phillies are things that I’m passionate about. The following is an approximate play-by-play of my brain processing the above statement over my morning coffee:
Have a lot of poets gone insane for poetic reasons and not just because of absinthe abuse?
Who are some famous insane poets?
Virginia Woolf had some issues.
Is he making a Virginia Woolf reference?
Would everyone get that?
Why didn’t I get that?
Are insane poets a thing that I don’t know about?
Why don’t I know about it?
Is it one of those things everyone knows that I don’t?
Like the time my high school biology teacher told me that he understood I liked music, but I didn’t need to spell the word ‘beetle’ with an ‘a’ in all of my lab reports, when I had it in my brain that ‘beatle’ was the way you actually spelled it? Is it one of those things?
I should stop thinking about this– it’s too early.
Is he being clever, and I’m not clever enough to get it?
I’m disappointed in myself for not being clever enough to get it.
I shouldn’t be disappointed in myself over a tweet. That’s insane.
WAIT, maybe I am insane, and maybe it’s because I’m a lyricist and therefore by proxy a poet and therefore unable to understand this because of my own insanity.
I need to water the garden.
…and there you have it.
Feel free to laugh at me not getting any of this.
time: 9:05 am
date: Wednesday, May 7th
place: home, New Braunfels, TX
300//\\365//\\300 is a writing exercise– 300 entries over 365 days, each no longer than 300 words (I’m not so hot at sticking to the last part).