and i ask myself

[fflo]

and now a short poem, entitled
and i ask myself

what the fork am i doing?
only i don't say "fork."

what do you all think? that's not part of the poem. we're outta the poem now.

(or are we?)

(this ain't no poem, baby.)

norman mailer, who said you need one thing in order to be a writer, but it's really two things, if you count each testicle as an individual, died today. or yesterday. whatever.

i am most disappointed to be disappointed in Fingersmith, the TV adaptation of the famous Sarah Waters novel. definitely shoulda read the book first. i think it's my headspace, as they say, and as i was telling shmizla, though i started out complimenting her banana bread. there's another curséd thing about that work of art too.

oh, it's a bit of a rough night down here in the lower marlborough quadrant, or whatever the official neighborhood name is. i'm gonna be sleeping sounder than my neighbor, though, likely.

got one load of laundry partly done. put batteries in my new flashlight. went for a walk in the woods.

which reminds me, what the fork am i doing? what space is this, this headspace? heartspace too loud. can't hear headspace. but i am up in that headspace, where the pounding muffled heart, down there somewhere goin' crazy, echoes loudly through everything g g g g g

muse later, maybe, on: permission not to think

Comments

[peteralway.livejournal.com]

norman mailer, who said you need one thing in order to be a writer, but it's really two things, if you count each testicle as an individual, died today. or yesterday. whatever.

I started, maybe finished his book on the Apollo moon landings once. A Fire on the Moon, I think. Mostly it seemed to be crowing about how cool he was to be on the arts side of the great arts/sciences divide. He seemed to find it profound that NASA shared two and a half letters with NAZI. I think he even had a rant about how black people were cool because they were all on the arts side of the arts/sciences divide. Well, that's how I read it anyway. One of the most dissapointing books I ever read--though maybe I was just too irritated by his attitude to recognize his literary greatness. I could never be bothered to look at anything else by him.

It was the sort of experience that pretty much turned me off to highly touted writers in general.

[fflo.livejournal.com]

No one touted him as much as he did! That's an accomplishment, of a sort.