"To keep the review thread clean..."

Angeline said:

No one has ever been as good to me as ee has. He's such a loving, goodhearted person...

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Angeline said:

I read them all and found only one that I felt warrants recommending: Tzara's Driving to Sarajevo. The poem received an Editor's Choice Award, hence the E next to the title. Even when I don't really understand what T-zed's on about and I have to look up his references, I get the extended metaphor (here, a car--a Yugo of course), and appreciate the pace that meanders thoughtfully and ends, as I suppose most Yugo rides would, with a bit of a prayer.

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champagne1982 said:

Thanks to Jami-san for filling the reviewer slot on Friday. Isn't it great to find a treat waiting on the lists fellow reviewers? I love when I get to admire the works of my favourite poets on my review day; it's kind of like I'm the first to read them <grin=wicked+evil> and I do like coming first. </grin>

BTW J.W. I have read your posted poems but I am stoned on ultra-strong codiene right now, so I'll try to gather some thoughts later.

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normal jean said:

Sweetie!! are you okay? I KNOW you don't just do codeine, I must have missed some announcement, or something. I swear, I wish people would tell me when someone is ill or injured so I can send out some good wishes, I feel responsible, ya know. I love you Carrie, you have always been such a good friend to me and have helped me so much with my work.

I hope you feel better really soon, and if you dont, tell your doc they do make stuff stronger than codeine. ( I could suggest something if he cant, lol)

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unpredictablebijou said:

I recognize now that a lot of the anger people felt at me was because they had really idolized that particular partnership and felt so betrayed when they were forced to see that it wasn't everything it was cracked up to be, everything they wanted to believe it was.

If it hadn't been important, they wouldn't have hated me so much.

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champagne1982 said:

Hey NJ,
Not to worry, I had some more knee surgery. The bone man removed a chunk of cartilege and the old ACL graft screws from my right knee (I was injured, skiing in Austria, years ago) and it, not surprisingly, hurt. I only put a tiny notice of this one out there since I was only expecting a couple of days being away.

I think it's time I went back to your poems and have a good visit with them, now that I'm feeling more capable.

Thanks so much for your worry, I should make sure I pm everyone or make a separate thread to announce things. I didn't mean to give you high blood pressure. Although, getting your pulse racing is fun...

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normal jean said:

You are so good, and you always infuriated me when you said you sucked. Now you know better than that, don't you?

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WickedEve said:

Two days ago, I took a sledgehammer and hacksaw to Hugo. I had been eyeing Hugo that entire morning, and I had even felt sick with need to smash Hugo to bits. He finally agreed. I got the key to the cellar and found my Dad's sledgehammer -- covered in cobwebs. The hacksaw was practically rusted to the stone floor. He carried the heaviest of the two back up the hill to my place. The sunny side of the yard was chosen for the destruction.

With Hugo on the ground, I drug the sledgehammer over and lifted it just slightly into the air. I barely did any damage -- again and again. Oh, the frustration. I was agitated and we were both sweating. I don't like to sweat, unless it sticks him to me. But this was death sweat, kill sweat, slaughter sweat, some kind of nasty sweat, right here on the sunny side of my fenced in grass.

He took the heavy thing from my hand and swung it hard, crushing one leg. He tried to twist off another but it wouldn't budge. "The hacksaw," he demanded. He sawed it off and handed it to me. I stood there, with Hugo's leg held high, grunting, and beating my feet against the ground. Then it was my turn. Kneeling, I leaned deep into it, back and forth, flashing back to the old days, when my dad and I would both grab an end of a bucksaw and take down a small tree -- a very small tree. I smiled and off came the leg.

"I'm okay now."

I had held onto it, like I do with their drawings and first Easter dresses. But when I named the swings and slide Hugo, I knew it was time for dismantling -- and a bit of gleeful destruction.

And I knew it was time to say goodbye to some anger.

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Tzara said:

You scare me sometimes. But you write it so very well that it's OK.


Jesus fucking Christ. What time is it in Virginia?

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UnderYourSpell said:

EEEEEEEEEVE! Good grief I thought you had finally flipped!!

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WickedEve said:

And I knew it was time to say goodbye to some anger.

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PandoraGlitters said:

*blinks innocently and queries quietly* What's an SRP?

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Homburg said:

*stomps on the floor and holds up a lighter*

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WickedEve said:

I think it's sexual role playing.

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Quinn71 said:

This lit Blog is a great idea....

Well, yesterday I started my first ever SRP with a lady Litster. We are keeping it in PMs for now. As it is my first I want to see how it turns out before deciding on making it public.

She says she thinks it's going very well. The flow of the story seems to be working well.

If it does go public I will be sure to announce it here.

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WickedEve said:

The Usual Morning Conversation with Mother

"Do you think your Aunt Pat looks like a man?" I check out the photo my mom sent. It's my Aunt Pat, her half-sister, and my Uncle B.

"Yeah and she's wearing those man-britches again. Mom, do you know what, um, bulldykes are? Well, all three of them kind of look... but... Uncle B. is certainly the prettiest one!"

"Did you see that picture I sent you of your cousins? Your Cousin Rose looks like an old woman, doesn't she?" Rose and I are almost the same age!

"Uh! I think she looks fine, Mom!"

"How about the rest of them?" We both know they're all hillbillies. Why discuss it?

"Oh, god, Naomi really does look like a redneck. Did I tell you that Hugo met her last week? First thing she announced to him was that she was a redneck. Bless her heart. At least she's honest."

"Your dad and I are a mess." Lordy, what's wrong now? "His back is all knotty and he's starting therapy."

My mom is dying. She has been discussing her death for many years -- especially before vacation. "If we die on our way to the beach, make sure you auction off the old furniture, and this key opens this box with important information, and your daddy will give you a list of where our money is kept." It's not like they're rich, they're just darned prepared. Before I took my first trip with Hugo, my mom forced me to make a will and leave the children to them. The day before our road trip, I was in the lawyer's office, signing it.

"By the way, have you seen your Aunt Marge's new hair? It looks just like your Aunt Pat's man-hair."

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Angeline said:

My mother spent years telling me what to do when she dies. Like I wouldn't know.

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