



are you freaking serious did they actually put steve in minecraft
in my delirious half-awake state i appear to have typed the wrong game

back when i was in second grade, my elementary school organised a school market with every class selling their crafts for charity. the contribution of my class were hand-sized ceramic frogs we made in art class. each one of us made one of them to be sold for five euros a piece (this is important later). the quality of the frog i made varies drastically based on who is telling the story, and for reasons that will become very apparent later there is no way to check, but i stand by the fact that it was average looking, if a bit wonky.
the day of the market arrived, and all frogs were bought within minutes, snatched up by enthusiastic and proud parents. all except - mine. because my mother hates spending money on unnecessary things, and she hates children’s crafts even more. so she - loudly and vehemently - refused, in her thick eastern european accent, to “spend five euros on an ugly frog”.
i will never forget seeing my ceramic frog alone on the slightly wet cardboard, surrounded by the imprints left behind by the already sold frogs. all the while other parents are getting more and more agitated, trying to get my mother to put the frog out of its misery. eventually, she budged, and spend five euros on a wonky frog. she was absolutely furious about this.
so furious, in fact, that when we came home to where my father was remodelling the kitchen, she WALLED IT IN. that’s right. she cask of amadillo’d that poor ceramic fool. put him into the open wall and slapped concrete over it faster than my poor seven year old self or my dad could protest. out of pure anger over loosing five euros. and that’s where it remains, until this day.
my mom hates when this story is brought up, which is why we bring it up all the time. she also thinks she what she did was right, because “do the other parents know where the frog is? no. only your creation is safe. because i love you.” morally, i would disagree, but on a pure factual basis, she has a point.
i made her another ceramic frog for her last brithday, which was not buried like some pharaoh, and everytime guests compliment it my brother loudly goes “oh you should see the other frog he made” and when they ask to see it, he points at the wall. this is hilarious to him and infuriating for my mother. and that’s the frog story.
people in the notes are strongly divided on whether this is tragic or hilarious. well let me tell you a secret. it is both. all the best stories are
I'm going to preface this by saying that i am not an expert in ANY form of poetry, just an enthusiast. Also, this post is... really long. Too long? Definitely too long. Whoops! I love poetry.
If you ask most English-speaking people (or haiku-bot) what a haiku is, they would probably say that it's a form of poetry that has 3 lines, with 5, and then 7, and then 5 syllables in them. That's certainly what I was taught in school when we did our scant poetry unit, but since... idk elementary school when I learned that, I've learned that that's actually a pretty inaccurate definition of haiku. And I think that inaccurate definition is a big part of why most people (myself included until relatively recently!) think that haiku are kind of... dumb? unimpressive? simple and boring? I mean, if you can just put any words with the right number of syllables into 3 lines, what makes it special?
Well, let me get into why the 5-7-5 understanding of haiku is wrong, and also what makes haiku so special (with examples)!
going straight into the woods call that penis mysterious
BUDDY you're a BOY you're a BIG BIG BOY you're a BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG BOY you got mud on your face you BIG BIG BOY kicking your can all over the place singing WEE wee WEE wee WEE wee WEE wee

Rarijack doodle dump