ways that I helped the red sox win today:

1. I woke up with a stomachache, but went to work anyway (demonstrating that noble perserverence... something something).

2. wore a red shirt

3. I studiously ignored the game, except for to very quick visits to Boston.com to see if it was over yet.

4. I moved to San Francisco (didn't hurt, obviously).

5. I wrote an only half-bulshit post over on Shaw's Blog (which I'd just finished when my mom called to tell me THE SOX WON THE SERIES)!

'Have You Herd Sheep' is Right

Look! A title! I don't know what came over me. Twenty-five cents to anyone (besides you, dad) who can tell me what song (or songwriter) that's from.

Know what I've noticed lately? My grammar is getting horrid. And my writing's worse. I think this might be a sign that the writing program I'm in is working. Or that my orange juice is irradiated. Which would explain why my brand new computer has been so slow lately.

In other news, I hate my last ten or so entries. I don't proofread my posts here, and it shows. I need to either start editing, or stop reading past posts. And that Edna St. Vincent Millay (ahem) homage that used to be posted below? Forget you ever saw it. Not fit for public consumption. Urg. Not that the other two are.

Ugh. The musty tea cozy of despair settles 'round. Lemon, anyone?

Oh, and I've added a new link to the sidebar: Mimi Smartypants.


It had me laughing so hard, I actually drove Brian from the room.

I can't decide what I find more disturbing about Dawn Eden's latest blog entry: that she thinks Christopher Reeve died of AIDs (because he appeared emaciated in1994 - a few months before his riding accident), or that she thinks it's any of her business what he died of. Actually, come to think of it, the latter is what's disturbing about the former. But screw it, I like the rythym.

Now that Shaw has gone and linked me, I guess I really should post some content up in here.

But I'm busy.

So, join me in embracing mediocrity as I make my first foray into the world of poetry (Aaron& Tricia,you might want to look away). Here are some sonnets I've written for my poetic forms class:


Bargain Basement Poe

Freud tells us that love is a recalling
Of sweet unspoken needs by mother met;
When the heart, alight, is through love soaring
It rides a sniveling, poopy infant jet.
And Ovid sings of satyr Marsyas
Who by Apollo flayed, his outsides in,
Sensed the truth we know when love’s upon us:
We are not the masters of our skin.
I never had a kiss that I, rememb’ring
Could feel again as warm, and not corpse cold.
O warmth! O kiss-heat! Abet forgetting
(Forget that I will die, that you’ll grow old).
Just sit with me a while, infant lover,
Your sweet kinder-corpse hand in my own.
And tell me that our lives are far from over --
I need to call my mother. Where’s the phone?

Bargain Basement Shakespeare (the Earl Of Oggsford)

Shall I compare thee to a Tuber-rose?
Thou are’t not an age restricted product
Inhaled into an unsuspecting nose
(An odd feeling - nicotine in bile duct).
Your presence, though, at best disquieting
An untraceable tick’ling in the night
Lingers sweetly, preciously inspiring
A world at once asunder and aright.
Smelling rain, a memory of your sweater
Cheek to blue wool shoulder in the night
A promise to be here, in this moment
And a blessing, interrupting - Gesundheidt
From floating dust condens'd, the heart inspired
You -- though smokeless -- kindle smold'ring fire.

Oh, and FYI:

Yeah, I know I haven't updated in a while. And all you're getting is this:


You are Fish 'Tacos.' You might think you're
exotic and worldly-wise, but in reality you're
just a bunch of crap on toast. Repeat after
me: 'just because you put something in
quotation marks doesn't make it so.' And
'taco' isn't Spanish for 'toast.'


What Weight Watchers recipe card from 1974 are you?
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who says life is fair?