The Blueing

a poem after Nick Montfort's The Purpling
re-mixed by students of Non-Linear Narratives & Multi-Media Poetics
a Quebec Writers' Federation Workshop led by J. R. Carpenter, March 28, 2009

Stop reading into what I whispered as I was struggling to stay awake. Speaking softly so that only a few can hear me is like escaping from the backdoor of a building where your best friend's boyfreind's band is playing just after midnight. Our winter coats are not made warm enough for non-smokers not to feel that they are sacraficing their comfort for their buddies who prefer smoking while standing than smoking while running to catch the last metro. Ignoring the moon as we take off our shoes after a long day is what we tend to do, if we stayed up three more hours we would ignore the sun. Rejecting sleep has always been a hobby of mine, no bed times. I wonder what she would assume if she saw how clean my room is, I panic and throw my jacket on the floor. Cereal tastes best when everyone else is asleep. I stay up all night inventing things; inventing a 24/7 Jeopardy channel is my best invention to date. I hear of people who do crossword puzzles as they sip their sleepy time tea.