Exploring the Visual Arts with Burton Wasserman

I've had this one particular journal since junior year of high school. That's right. I've had it for four years. To be fair I moved in and out of it. For a very long period of time I moved into a leather bound rose journal (which I also still have.) Anyways, I made it sometime junior year out of a book entitled Exploring the Visual Arts by Burton Wasserman. It has a black and white checkered pattern on the outside. I cut loose leaf paper down to size and glued into the binding. On the shelf, it just looks like a very poorly kept textbook. None of this is important. I just just felt like telling you. The important thing is, it only has two pages left in it. I have never finished a journal in my life, and this one has only got two pages left in it. Do you have any idea what that's like? The closer I get to the end of this thing, the more I lament the wasted the space. The pages I spent copying by hand things I had scattered between two computer hard drives, myspace, and facebook. The lists I made for school supplies. The pages with only a few words written on them because I always like to start a clean page when I write. There is so much wasted space, and only a random scattering of dates. It's a mess. I have two pages left; that's it and yet I still have no idea what to write. 

I never have any idea what to write. 

This is a poem I wrote in pen in a spiral off the top of my head filling the front cover of my journal. I think it pretty well describes the way I'm feeling right now. I left all errors. I'm sorry if that makes you crazy. Also please don't judge it too hard because it is pretty old at this point and is in a completely unedited form.

Oh you're a secret you're a liar, upside down and backwards you conceal all my desires. On the outside you are one thing on the inside you're another- I think we're soul mates you and I, will you be my lover. I'm not sure you have I choice, I make it up as I go. In pen that's a bold move, thats why this doesn't flow. Because you can't make one mistake or the whole thing is ruined. Shit! What rhymes with ruin? Can't turn back now I'll have to think of something...Glue-in! Moving on. Someone ripped out all your pages and with paper they did glue in. This is really much harder than it looks. How the hell do rappers do it? I guess in that respect they're poets. It's hard to make it fit. Although there's nothing great about "this is why im hot, this is why, this is why, this is why i'm hot." Not! I never meant for this to go on so long now Im obligated to fill. But that's what space is for (filling that is) I hope I haven't been a bore. My rhymes get lost along the way I don't know how to finish them. They start as couplets, maybe haikus and all end up as limericks. (Oh would you look at that it didn't rhyme at all.) This space is getting small, I need to make a call, take a walk down the hall, hope I don't fall. (This is getting ridiculous.) Nonsense words and made ravings make the world go round, to think its only gravity to this place got us bound. (Did you know that magnets are stronger?) Maybe that's the problem we aren't magnetic enough. Always makin out, breakin up, makin up, lovers leaving in a huff. We just can't seem to get it together.  Must be the weather. People dreaming, people scheming. Some are sighing some are screaming but if there's one thing I know, no one's listening. They're to busy filling the air with sound, feet firm on the ground. If only they knew that if we were magnets we'd have the time to fly, or at least we'd fall together, light as a feather. Too bad "I love you" is just something people say when they are sorry they are gonna hurt you. Now the space is gone so much left unsaid. All that space wasted on rappers. I hope you know that I love you.

Some much space wasted on rappers indeed.