Bistro Bijou

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I had geometry in ninth grade. Thank you, Eve, for making me feel my age.

What do they teach the senior year? Tensor mathematics?
You are the WD-40 of poetry, darlin'. You make everything slick. :rolleyes:
Okay, that's one a keeper and ended up in my sig line. The WD-40 of poetry. :D
 
Did someone say that Blicero is buyin' the next round? Make mine Cuervo, neat. Jean?
 
rowdy and debauched could never be applied to me. I am so innocent.

I shall refrain from a *coffee spew* comment here, since obviously what I've seen of you bears that out quite nicely, you perfect gentleman. (he even loaned me bail money that night). Yet somehow, I have my suspicions about people who hang around places like this...

Okay, that's one a keeper and ended up in my sig line. The WD-40 of poetry. :D

That is stellar. You should be very proud. And I'd second it - although carefully keeping my praise for your work at a necessary minimum, since I know how nervous that makes you.

...though a little reference in one of your blogs has inspired the little short story I'm busily banging on even now. ...

Did someone say that Blicero is buyin' the next round? Make mine Cuervo, neat. Jean?

hearts to Anschul, and a few flowers.

Let me remind the Bistrovians that there's a tiny challenge here from a couple of days ago: write a self-portrait poem, in third person, from the point of view of someone who adores you, finds you fascinating and beautiful and worthy and a complete, lovable mystery.

And let me also mention that there are no wrong poetry answers in the Bistro. It all goes on the fridge.

ahem.

bj
 
Now I'm off to catch up on all the other threads. I agree with Ange - I've hung on the AH. I like it better here. I'm reminded of one of my favorite lines from Harvey:

In this world you can be oh-so-smart or oh-so-pleasant.
I've tried smart. I prefer pleasant.

Bienvenue! My adoration for this place and its population knows no bounds today.

bj

God! I don't agree that the AH is smarter than in here — not at all! This is a little coterie of geniuses compared to over there. And we are mostly sane in here. (Mostly, I said!)

Harvey is a wonderful film — mention it on the AH and just watch the blank expressions line themselves up.
 
Sure, since all drinks are on the house I'll get the next round!

SSSHHHHHHHHHH...don't tell BJ

hearts to Anschul, and a few flowers.

Let me remind the Bistrovians that there's a tiny challenge here from a couple of days ago: write a self-portrait poem, in third person, from the point of view of someone who adores you, finds you fascinating and beautiful and worthy and a complete, lovable mystery.

And let me also mention that there are no wrong poetry answers in the Bistro. It all goes on the fridge.

ahem.

bj

Thanks and kisses to BJ. Are you sure you're from Kansas? I don't remember anyone like you when I was there...

...of course I was drunk or worse most of the time... ...
 
God! I don't agree that the AH is smarter than in here — not at all! This is a little coterie of geniuses compared to over there. And we are mostly sane in here. (Mostly, I said!)

Harvey is a wonderful film — mention it on the AH and just watch the blank expressions line themselves up.

Oh I would never assert that the smartness is higher there. Just that "being" that seems to be an even higher priority.

But I'm not going to generalize even about the Forums. Just the bistro - it's the only place I'll gleefully form opinions about.

And mostly what I've noticed over the years is that it is possible to be both smart and pleasant (sometimes the smartest are also the most pleasant since they have no defensiveness about it) but if I have to choose, I'll certainly gravitate toward the side of basic niceness, either way.

That's just me, though.

bj
 
Well BJ, I would have undressed you with other than my eyes, but there were others present.
 
You two are turnin' me on with your Cockney selves. And I'll confess, hit me with some rhyming slang and I'm likely to swoon and fall right down me apples and pears.

gads, how embarassingly american I am.
bj

My turn for confession. I absolutely detest rhyming slang. I've a friend from London that sprinkles it in his speech and and it drives me up a wall.

(I went back and editted that sentence. My spelling is British enough as is, but thinking of this topic just shoved me right into the British vernacular, slang and all. I've spent too much time over the years on British message boards. And this is of course why I can pick the proper manner of being ignorant and thus spinning up our resident Briton.)


Let me remind the Bistrovians that there's a tiny challenge here from a couple of days ago: write a self-portrait poem, in third person, from the point of view of someone who adores you, finds you fascinating and beautiful and worthy and a complete, lovable mystery.

And let me also mention that there are no wrong poetry answers in the Bistro. It all goes on the fridge.

ahem.

bj

Not gonna happen. Not only is it patently impossible for me to enter into the mindset of either of my gals, there is just no way that I could actually write down the sort of things they say about me. They're wonderfully delusional, and I love them both for it.

Though I did receive a poem from one of them two days ago, and, wow, it just floored me. I've written *ahem* a fair amount of poetry for the ladies in my time, but very, very rarely have I had any written for me. No wonder the ladies dig it so very much when I get my poet-stroll on. :heart: (even though it is usually awful, sentimental dreck)
 
FOOL: Well BJ, I would have undressed you with other than my eyes, but there were others present.

Happily, the Bistro has always been clothing optional.

LOL! I first read this as "I would have undressed you with my other eye…"

The third, perhaps?

My turn for confession. I absolutely detest rhyming slang. I've a friend from London that sprinkles it in his speech and and it drives me up a wall.

(I went back and editted that sentence. My spelling is British enough as is, but thinking of this topic just shoved me right into the British vernacular, slang and all. I've spent too much time over the years on British message boards. And this is of course why I can pick the proper manner of being ignorant and thus spinning up our resident Briton.)

The resident Brits and Anglophiles have my express permission to drive Homburg up a wall. I think rhyming slang is adorable.

Hi, Hatboy! How ya been, as if I can't guess?

Not gonna happen. Not only is it patently impossible for me to enter into the mindset of either of my gals, there is just no way that I could actually write down the sort of things they say about me. They're wonderfully delusional, and I love them both for it.

Though I did receive a poem from one of them two days ago, and, wow, it just floored me. I've written *ahem* a fair amount of poetry for the ladies in my time, but very, very rarely have I had any written for me. No wonder the ladies dig it so very much when I get my poet-stroll on. :heart: (even though it is usually awful, sentimental dreck)

You, my darling, are not one whose self-image I'm particularly concerned about at the moment. Though you could stand to listen to the impressions of your lovely ladies a bit anyway. And quit calling them delusional before they actually listen to you...

I've noticed that regardless of the degree of our self-confidence, high or low, it's often slightly skew from that which actually makes us valuable and beautiful.

*all philosophical now. Must be low blood sugar. I'm off to dinner pretty soon, but no more absences for me; I missed this place quite fiercely.

bj
 
Like this one?

I keep practicing, cause someday I'm going to be able to do that "Aaaaaaooooooowwww" just like she does. I've always loved that particular accent.

You two are turnin' me on with your Cockney selves. And I'll confess, hit me with some rhyming slang and I'm likely to swoon and fall right down me apples and pears.

gads, how embarassingly american I am.
bj

Look what may happen if you're not careful....

:eek:
 
Look what may happen if you're not careful....

:eek:

*laughing!!!*

That is hilarious. I'm bookmarking it; I have a number of friends who are going to get a true kick out of that.

Hey, men: research question for a story I'm hot in the middle of.

Do tuxedo trousers generally have zippers like normal men's pants, or are they some other fancy closure like buttons or something?

I must sadly confess I've never had the opportunity to undo a pair to find out.

details are everything.
bj
 
*laughing!!!*

That is hilarious. I'm bookmarking it; I have a number of friends who are going to get a true kick out of that.

Hey, men: research question for a story I'm hot in the middle of.

Do tuxedo trousers generally have zippers like normal men's pants, or are they some other fancy closure like buttons or something?

I must sadly confess I've never had the opportunity to undo a pair to find out.

details are everything.
bj

zippers...
 
thanks, darlin'. Helpful and timely.

I suspect this guy isn't going to bother with the top closure at all...

we'll see. Mostly I just watch what they do in my head and report on it...


bj
 
thanks, darlin'. Helpful and timely.

I suspect this guy isn't going to bother with the top closure at all...

we'll see. Mostly I just watch what they do in my head and report on it...


bj

Yeah me too. My own personal X-rated movie theater...
 
her practied eyes

You have no love of me
your understanding is achedemic
at best
you look through your practiced eyes
you see the tears
you see the miserary
you see the torment
but can you see the sun
could you possibly understand the sweet sorrow
of my many shades

For I know
my face is flawed
too much stress
my flesh is heavy
not enough will power
my jeans are dirty
not enough pride
could it possibly cross your mind
that I am comfortable
in my own skin

For
I am capable of greatness
why would I cobble that
I am capable of great tenderness
why would I stifle that
I am intelligent
why would I risk that

What I feel is real
be it deeper or higher
I came not to change who I am
for I finnaly found her
and love her
I came not to control what I cant
life will always happen
I came to learn what I can understand
to find what my heart desires

can you see me with eyes of love
can you see me with eyes of trust
can you see me as me
because only then can you help me
 
Hey, men: research question for a story I'm hot in the middle of.

Do tuxedo trousers generally have zippers like normal men's pants, or are they some other fancy closure like buttons or something?

I must sadly confess I've never had the opportunity to undo a pair to find out.

details are everything.
bj


Cheeper modern ones: zippers. But if you want this guy to be up-market and tailor-made, then buttons definitely. And don't forget the cummerbund — that has to come off as well.
 
The resident Brits and Anglophiles have my express permission to drive Homburg up a wall. I think rhyming slang is adorable.

Hi, Hatboy! How ya been, as if I can't guess?

Absurdly good. Honestly. I could be better, but only if the immutable laws of space-time would bend just a fucking bit.


You, my darling, are not one whose self-image I'm particularly concerned about at the moment. Though you could stand to listen to the impressions of your lovely ladies a bit anyway. And quit calling them delusional before they actually listen to you...

bj

This is probably true. :kiss:
 
God's Teeth, m'dear, don't go on so! You shan't have a barve, um bath, but we do need to get those cow pats out of your hair — such lovely golden hair, it's a shame that we can't see it under all that ordure. Just bend over this basin and we shall give that hair a good wash — oops, my hand just slipped up your dress. Well, never mind that and it's up there now so there's nothing that can be done about it. Wash! Wash!

Owwwwww oive niver 'eard sich pony an' trap abart me barnet fair an' na yer gie me frock an' acid trip roight arp the front. Jus' gies a' ayrton senna an' arl feel ya davina mcalls
 
Owwwwww oive niver 'eard sich pony an' trap abart me barnet fair an' na yer gie me frock an' acid trip roight arp the front. Jus' gies a' ayrton senna an' arl feel ya davina mcalls

*I shall just leave this a code to be cracked by our esteemed hostess.*
 
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