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Expanding on the Succinct

It all started with Lewis and Clark. Then a cinnamon roll and an excavation into my past... What came of those events? A poem. A soul-bearing confession that will redirect a generation into self-acceptance. In universities across the nation, fresh faced Lit majors will recite this poem at parties to impress their esoteric kith. Young lovers will whisper it into the ears of their partners pursuing climax of the body and the mind.

“So honest”, the critics will say. “So... succinct.”

But how did it happen? One of my favorite poets right now is Jonathon Rice. He says what he wants in haikus. Sometimes it makes me think I should be more efficient. Not everything I do must belabor my audience with each sprawling thought tree of my psyche. Ivy covered branches that uniquely illustrate my snowflake POV. Tautological twigs laying delicately amongst the thorny chaparral of my brain. No. If that’s what you’re looking for in another one of C-Diddy’s long winded blogs then I apologize.

*see any or all prior posts for such indulgence*

Back to me being succinct. Like anyone else on a Monday night with wifi at their disposal, I was researching the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Stirring in my chair, teeming with questions.

“Did these men just point in a westerly direction, grab some hatchets to clear away the stubborn chaparral and start walking?”

This led to other questions.

“Did these men have horses? There were horses then, yes? Surely. This wasn’t Mesopotamia. Did Mesopotamia have horses? Why do I feel like horses were invented in colonial times?”

My blue-light protection glasses were fogging up from excitement. Smoke came from my fingers hitting the keyboard. Google itself asked for a cigarette break. My hunt for knowledge pushed westward into the web... I asked,

“Would Lewis be played by Pitt and Clark by Leo on the big screen? Or is Pitt more of a Clark character and Leo more of a Lewis kind of guy?” The web showed no results. But after diligent research and much time well spent, I reached a conclusion. Abstract, yet distinctive…

This was indeed a well known case of exploration.

I leaned back, proudly kneading the leather arms of my thinking chair. Imagining the spoils that lay waiting for the natural scholar type. But a little voice interrupted with, “Well, Cooks, what do you explore?”

This takes us to Tuesday morning.

It was like any other weekday morning for an overachiever. I’d had my 3 cups of Orange Bang and my 3 episodes of 90210. I was attempting to eat my second cinnamon roll without guilt and discuss without candor or rancor the throes of a past relationship. This conversation proved acrobatic given I was talking to my current partner. Even the king of neutral must capoeira around the tripwire at times. Now was this chat necessary? No. But where would we be if Meriwether Lewis stopped after one cinnamon roll? Makes you think. And hell, where would you be right now if my thirst for knowledge was quenched after searching ‘was Louisiana in fact part of the Louisiana Purchase?’

This conversation reinforced an idea for me. That we tend to separate ourselves from our past selves. At times I look at these past selves fondly but more often I look back with embarrassment. I’ll leave the relationship stuff out of this. No one wants to hear about young C-Murda crying alone in his car, singing along to “Iris” at the top of his lungs. Another time.

(City of Angels fans stand up!!?? Sure, not Meg Ryan's best work but the genius of Nora Ephron doesn't just grow on trees.)

Now, the much anticipated poem you most likely forgot you were anticipating. It’s many things… a fashion confession, a nod to a fellow blonde poet, Mr. Rice, refusing to be defined by his sun-kissed tips alone. This poem is a mantra of self acceptance through a retracing of sandy steps but most importantly, it is succinct.

My haiku, titled...

Some Call Them Thongs

Twas’ a time when Chris

could not be stopped, from wearing

his jeans and flip flops


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