By all accounts, I should be in bed, or at least working on my poetry. Sadly, I am doing neither. I've exasperated Austin with my claims of not being able to write in the form of the extended simile, but really, it just isn't working for me. I'm kicking a couple of ideas around, desperately, hoping they take some sort of feasible form on, but so far...nada. I don't even care...it's just gonna suck. Because...writing an extended simile is like...stretching taffy. There comes a point when you stretch it too far and it becomes transparent and breakable, thin and falling apart. And, really, just not very satisfying. See? That's what I come up with in the simile world. Nothing good at all. *sigh* Actually, though, that's the best I've come up with the past couple days, so I might run with the taffy thing. And that bugs me a little, that taffy is the best I can come up with. But you can't win them all, as my dear friend keeps reminding me, as he kicks my ass. Poor Matt's sick, I can hear him coughing as he sleeps. And his voice sounds awful. AHHHH!!!!! Seriously, I'm not a bad poet, I shouldn't have to suffer this torment. I wonder if Dante ever had a roadblock like this, if Donne ever just couldn't write a sonnet? How often did Shakespeare go to bed, an unfleshed idea niggling away at his brain? I feel better when I think about these guys having issues too. I wonder if they ever thought about giving up?