Invited a couple of writers over to play boccie and disc golf in my backyard. Wonder what I served for dinner?
Bout to drop a Mexican specialty on your bizness.
Writer-blogger seems a bit stale. We need to think up a new term. Come on everyone, pitch in! I’ll throw in a quick 50 better options:
1.) Deep Chanters of Blur.
2.) liquefied gods.
3.) Those That Slip Under Fences
5.) 32 year old William Butler Yeats spending most of the winter of 1897-98 in London (where he’d taken an apartment in 1896, in order finally to lose his virginity, at age 30), hosting a regular Monday night salon for his literary friends, taking hashish pills and pursuing magical researches with the Order of the Golden Dawn (OGD).
6.) Those That Name Clouds in Other People’s Dreams.
7.) I harbor resentment. This is like eating a pie of germs and waiting for the other person to cough.
8.) They May Not be Giants.
9.) Plain Tarrers.
10.) Whetstones. (I still don’t know how to properly sharpen a knife. I once paid a man in Alabama to sharpen all of my knives. Now that’s ridiculous. But I do detest a dull knife.)
11.) I know Cher’s sister. This hasn’t been a profitable relationship, for me.
12.) The Blue and Gray Smears.
13.) The Olsen Ledgers.
14.) Big ol’ Jay Leno Jawers. (Leno says he once had no money. But he prefers having money.)
15.) Can you imagine Flannery O’ Connor at the New York YMCA? I thought she hated protestants.
16.) The Algebra Enders.
17.) My child fell down the stairs and I ran after but you can’t really catch a falling child due to several forces you most likely learned in high school Physical Science (and have now forgotten).
18.) Cupped Ears and Cakes.
20.) Martha Stewart was unable to make a signing for her book Weddings. She had to attend her divorce proceedings.
21.) The Martha Stewarts.
22.) The Coal Minder’s Brother.
23.) The David Foster Wallace Post Cards.
24.) I met DFW in a kitchen and he ate three consecutive sandwiches: white, wheat, white.
26.) Bolts of oak.
27.) The Oxygen Bars.
28.) Deep Dishers of Nor.
29.) One time I helped this poet move and I lifted up her couch cushions and out fell about 25 colorful pills. That was embarrassing for all.
30.) In my opinion, a house fire is never a prank.
31.) The Black and White Robots.
32.) William Faulkner drank whiskey to prime the engine.
33.) Anne Rice wrote pornography.
34.) Norman Mailer stabbed his wife with a pen knife. (Who links to 2002 interviews in a blog?)
35.) Brooch Bringers.
36.) Tear Turners.
37.) The Pink Keds.
38.) The Robert Olen Butler thing still blows my mind.
39.) I pulled a fourteener on Tuesday.
40.) The Styrofoam Ruffers.
41.) Dave Eggers has the best rant I’ve read about Selling Out.
42.) I finally did get some Crocs.
43.) Lotus is a word that shows up in too many poems. Also feather and moon.
44.) Noah ate the unicorn.
45.) The Carmelite Sandals.
46.) The 900 Things We’ll Leave Behind When Dead.
47.) The Darjeelings.
48.) The Totally Dones.
49.) I miss running. The way a bird would miss flight. Or a head miss bowing.
50.) Will it Blend?
I bought a book of poetry, by James Wright. It arrived in the mail and looked like this:
That is a QUARTER next to the book! What the hell? Is there some joke I am missing?
Today I enjoyed reading Darby Dixon’s blog.
Once, upon a time, before an English princess in a German car descends into a French tunnel, on overcast days when the rain is spitting, we walk the Brookshire stables and feed the horses great bunches of ripe, moist alfalfa. The sky is cobblestones. The air smells of green galoshes. Darby Dixon dismisses the workers for the day and gives us sugar cubes and even allows us in the paddocks, alongside the horses, their boxcar heads, giant white eyes.
“Not everything that looks frightful is really so frightful,” she tells us, stroking the melting caramel of the horse’s mane.