At the moment, I’m sorting through my computer’s hard-disk to try and restore some order to the clutter. Double clicking on “Untitled Document” is always slightly exciting (well, compared to just moving files around) – who knows what might be hidden in that file?

Usually it’s just some random jottings, like “To do 10th Oct 2004: write essay, get milk” which for some reason I saved. But occasionally it’s something interesting, like an old poem I wrote some time ago:

I am a ventriloquist
– or should that be
impersonator?

Begin the day with grunt and growl
Stumble, mumble, “where’s my towel?”

See my friends,
Mate, how are yer?
Nice to see you
Catch you later!

My studious pursuits lead me to speak
With peculiarities to academia unique

But when I catch the bus
I don’t even catch the eye
Let alone speak to those
Who rush and bustle by

If you cut away my voices and my friends
do you get the “real” me,
personality pure and free?

Or just a half-man, left mutilated
when plucked from a tangled net
of impersonations?

by Caleb Woodbridge