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Category Archives: Clarissa

E is for Empty

…and also for excuses, of which I have a great deal — though, since I assume you all don’t care to read a post about all the Eschoolwork I have to do and how it’s the busy season at work and family trips hogging up time and paperwork that needs to be filed and doctor trips to be scheduled and how my life is just too hard and boo wah sob sob, I’ll just offer my apologies for neglecting my blog. Except apologies doesn’t start with E. I’ll give you my epologies?

(I just googled “epology” and apparently it’s an apology offered electronically. I’m such a genius, knowing words I didn’t even know.)

So, I think I’ve pretty much failed at this whole A to Z Challenge thing. Like, I think maybe I missed a day or two or fourteen. But it’s been fun blogging the alphabet, so I’m gonna keep doing it. Any complaints? Really? Well, who cares, it’s my blog I can do what I want to. MUAHAHAHAHAHA!

I’m sorry. I’ve drunk like a gallon of caffeine today and I only got about five hours of sleep last night. So I’ll just move on to the meat of this post.

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Empty

we were eating Chinese at my place.
paper packages scattered across the table, tabs stuck open–
scents spilling over.
noodles flick my nose, dribble down my chin.
ha, u pig, says Joey.

bits of sugar-coated cardboard broken open with a crack,
horoscopes and fate, silly things.
what’s your lucky number? who will you marry? who
should you not?
tug, my fortune pulls free.
–stop.

u ok? Amber says.
yeah, I say. ha, my fortune’s blank.
the 1 in ur cookie? Joey says.
lemme see, says Dean.
I open the slip, flip it
over.
blank, empty, nothing.
wat, says Amber.
haha, says Dean.
you got no fortune, Joey says.

you got no fortune.

I send a smile,
so they know I know it’s a joke.
not real.
but I can’t help but stare at the stark, blank whiteness
of my empty fortune

as it falls
from my fingers
to the floor.
loud, in the silence.

lonely, in the emptiness.

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This poem is probably the oddest thing I’ve ever written. (And that’s saying something, all things considered.) I think I love it. Or maybe I hate it. It’s remarkable how similar those emotions are.

Anyway, I wrote this for a poetry class. We’ve been studying various techniques and styles, and reading through lots and lots and lots of contemporary poetry. Some of the sort of minimalistic styles caught my attention, and I felt inspired to try it out myself. Or maybe I was just drunk. (Except I don’t drink, but I suppose reading too much poetry could cause the same effect.)

Love Potatoes. Click Stalk.

Love Potatoes. Click Stalk.

So, I’m curious — what did you all think? Do you like minimalist styles? Or is it just lazy writing? Do you think that writing that way can accomplish anything? Do you think my poem accomplished anything? Did you catch any hidden morals or messages in my poem? (Hint: There was supposed to be a hidden message, but I think I made it too subtle.)

C is for Clarissa (and also for Crap)

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I have lots of C’s today. I have a Cold, which is making meC Cranky because I feel like Crap*. (I also discovered that the true definition of “mature adult” is “going to work when you feel like you’ve had your brains sucked out of your ear and then stuffed up your nose, then been hit by a train, eaten by a rabid dog, and puked up again — because gosh darn it, you’ve got bills to pay”.) C also stands for Crazy, which explains why Clarissa has been Chattering in my brain all day, bugging me to do something Creative (which I haven’t done, on account of aforementioned Crappiness). I’ve also been Complaining a lot, in case you hadn’t noticed.

But since I ought to be taking this Challenge seriously (and not just throwing random Capitalized words starting with C throughout my post, which I’m going to Cease doing now. Honest.), I’ll introduce my A to Z challenge visitors to Clarissa.

You may have noticed the name of my blog is “Ham and Potatoes” — and if you haven’t, scroll up. It’s written in the big letters at the top of the page. The Ham is for me, Hammlington. The Potatoes is what I fondly call the alternate versions of the creature that is me, with Clarissa being the embodiment of my artistic/distracted/odd side. She’s responsible for the poetry and the drawings I post on my blog. And since I’m dedicating this post to her, I’ll share some examples:

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dragon IMG_2093 manga - Jackson 2 crapaliciouswebcamBabyNassanWIP IMG_2097 drawing - Duckling 3 drawing - hug IMG_2094 dragon - Flight

Fevered Dreams

The howl of the moon
The depth of the sun
The universe spread above
With stars falling
Falling
Like a broken heart’s tears

The darkness writhes
The sunshine, blinding
And all that’s left of the world
Is stone crumbling
Crumbling
Into the desert waste

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(Random bonus C: one of my favorite songs is “Cemeteries of London” by Coldplay.)

What C word do you feel like today? Do you know any magical cures for a cold? Are rambling posts okay, or should I stick to posting fiction? What is your favorite song that starts with C?

You know what else starts with C? Comments! And also cacidrosis, but that doesn’t anything to do with this post.

*I apologize if the word “crap” offends anyone. I generally try to avoid swear words, even borderline ones, but some days slinging variations of the word “poo” around just makes you feel better. Plus, it starts with C.

A is for Agony (+a brief message from the Ham)

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Hey all! I apologize for neglecting my blog for…uh, a really long time. It’s busy season atA2Z-BADGE-0002014-small_zps8300775c work. Which means I’ve been having a really, really hard time motivating myself to do anything in my free time (other than curl up in a ball and whimper quietly to myself) — let alone write posts. So, to maybe eliminate my lethargy, I’ve signed up for the A to Z challenge. This means that, for the month of April, I’ll be posting something EVERY DAY (except Sundays) corresponding with the letters of the alphabet. And in case you guys couldn’t tell, today is A.

Welcome to A is for AGONY.

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Agony (working title)

The doctor turns, smiles
Somehow I expected a leer
Twisting, stretching his face into something alien
Bulging eyes, the stench of sweat
Flaking rust brown staining his pristine coat
Betraying the repugnance of his crime

But his face is smooth, clear
His eyes bright and warm
Not a speck to mar the whiteness of his clothes
Stinking of bleach and lemons
Here, he says, good as new
His voice tight with clinical friendliness

He gently places it in my hands
I stare at the small, fluttering thing
At the tight, tidy stitches binding it
Where once it was ragged, bleeding
Oh, I say, because there is nothing else
And the thing in my hands trembles and thrums

In the safe darkness of my bedroom
I listen to the beat, never a falter
Only an echo of what once was gaping pain
In flames and ashes, searing flashes
I remember — the rage, hurt, betrayal, fury
Locked, hidden away in those tidy stitches

How can it be all right, okay?
How can it all be gone?
I tear out the stitches, relish in the pain
Rejoice in the wracking sobs
I’d rather feel anguish than nothing at all
And, as they say,
Nobody ever died of a broken heart

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This poem is temporarily called ‘Agony’ (mostly because I needed a post for A), but I really can’t decide on an appropriate title. What do you think? Is ‘Agony’ a good title? What do you think the title should accomplish? Do you have any suggestions? Comments, compliments, and critiques are more than welcome.

Quaking the Periwinkle Moon

I apologize for not posting anything last week. And I apologize in advance, because this may be the only post for this week. Explanation (excuses): I’m currently taking two condensed college courses, making last week and this one MIDTERMS. (Yay! Essays! Exams! Studying! Probably not in that order!) Besides, I warned you all early on I may not be consistent. I’m simply living up to my promises.

Secondary warning: This post will be very random. Please suspend all expectations for coherence from this point onward.

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Last post, I celebrated having reached four followers. Well, I am proud to announce, I now have SEVEN. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. The Potatoes are on their way to fame and fortune.

Seriously, though, thank you! It blows my mind. So, as a reward, I’ll treat you to one of my fantastically brilliant humble drawings:

Unexpectedly, hippopotami can't fly.

Unexpectedly, hippopotami can’t fly.

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In case you hadn’t guessed Read the rest of this entry

The Sky is Falling!

So, I’m taking a poetry class. As such, I’ve decided to share one of my poems every week on my blog. [pauses to wait while 90% of the readers click away]

This is what I look like when I write poems. Except minus the goatee. And the beret. I really need to get a beret.

This is what I look like when I write poems. Except minus the goatee. And the beret. I really need to get a beret.

[coughs] It’s okay. I understand. Broadly speaking, I hate reading poems (on account of it requiring actual effort on my part, thus nullifying my hard-earned title of Lazy Butt), but strangely, I love writing them. I love writing in general, but when I’m feeling particularly emotional or irrational, my thoughts tend to come out in poems rather than stories or blog posts. (My emotions also occasionally come out through artwork, but that’s another blog post entirely.) That being said, the fact that I’m sharing one of my poems with you today means I am baring my soul to you. So be nice. (P.S. Flattery works wonders.)

I also wanted to celebrate one momentous occasion: I have four followers/watchers/ stalkers/whateveryoucallthosepeoplethatarechronicreadersofablog! (!!!!!!!!!!!!) I about died of happiness. This is only my third post. I HAVE MORE STALKERS THAN I HAVE POSTS. (Sorry. I’ll stop shouting. I was over-excited.) I love you all. You are my best friends. In the whole world. Thank you for inflating my ego to drastic proportions.

Anyway. Here is “Thirteen Days, Thirteen Skies.” Read the rest of this entry

I Hate Ninjas

My eyes flew open.

The room was dark, empty, the windows closed and the curtains tightly drawn. I strained my ears, listening for even the barest whisper of a sound, but the night was still as death. My bedroom was silent, noiseless, nothing out of place. There was nothing that should have disturbed my slumber.

I hate ninjas, I thought, annoyed Read the rest of this entry

We is Me

There comes a time in one’s life when one simply becomes too much for one’s own self, so one’s self must divide into multiple Ones in order to cope with one’s inner lack of oneness.

And if you’re still reading, then you’re either a) really bored, b) pretending you’re so intelligent and philosophical that the above sentence actually made sense, or c) other: [please specify].

Either which way.

This is not Ham.

This is not Ham.

Hello! We are Ham and Potatoes, in case you missed those big letters at the top of this page. You know, the ones that say “Ham and Potatoes.” Yeah. Those ones. Right there. Uh-huh. Yeah, you got ’em. And as we are of the opinion that there is no such thing as a good first post on a blog (you know, one that will inspire the masses and cause hundreds and thousands of subscribers to flock to our blog), we have decided to go for what is likely the most cliched and boring first just to get it over with: The Introduction Post. Read the rest of this entry

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