God I'm so bored from sitting around and doing nothing all the time. Really doing nothing.
From a bookjacket:
"I do not know what Miss Stein is talking about. I do not even understand the title. That, Miss Stein tells me, is because I am dumb."
English Awards were the other night. I lost. More specifically, I lost to a poem called "Captured in a Friendship." Guess what it was about. Second place went to a different poem; I stopped listening when the poet read the phrase "Tears burst forth from out of her soul." He was kind of cute, but I tuned out after that line. Third went to a poem about how her grandfather died. The grandfather liked to eat pie; sometimes he couldn't remember things, but he liked to eat pie.
At least I've got a few things in the literary magazine, and they've made me an editor next year. According to an email I received this afternoon, I'm already a senior editor. Trust you me, I'll be laying down some new ground rules.
First rule: No crappy poetry.
Second rule: No crappy poetry.
Poetry sucks unless it makes me money.
