Unkempt

I've been rather unkempt lately, given the surgery, and being forbidden from showering because of the surgery for the last three, and the next however many weeks. Yes, unkempt and morose, perhaps one leading on from the other.  Somehow, I've thought it appropriate that I exploit my unkemptness by reading poetry (apologies to all poets).  Lots of poetry.  The great anthology of great poetry. Lots of greatness. And lots poetry. I'm not entirely sure why I associate the two.  Maybe it's the poverty and/or adversity I'm sure all good poets must undergo, either willingly, or not, to maser their art.  There's also garrets.. although why I'm not sure -  they should surely be associated with artists.. but hey.. this is my imperfect mind.

In some ways it's positive, within minutes I feel learned, and special, I can spout occasional knowledgeable thoughts about writers and concepts that other people perhaps cannot.. but mostly, I feel like a wanker.