This was a very interesting piece. I wasn't sure how to take something from this poem because the piece itself is so intriguing and unique. There were so many interesting lines from this poem but the one that I liked most was the "barely daring to breathe or achoo" and I think it was the onomatopoeia.
Barely daring to breathe or achoo
dust trickling the hairs in my nose,
under the bed
hiding from you, staring at your shoes.
The shoes squeek
like the door hinges as you
close, and walk calmly
past the room with the painting
of the girl with the earring.
You bought me, you bought me
that for my birthday
last year. I didn't ask
for it, but it still came wrapped
up in ribbons of red and white
and black like your
shoes.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Improv of "Autumn Begins in Martins Ferry, Ohio"
When I first read the poem, I had to Google what pullets were. I loved the line "Women cluck like starved pullets" but after I found out they were hens, I loved it even more. Women cluck...they gossip, they talk, they giggle...they cluck.
Women cluck like starved pullets
when shame comes to town. Whether it's the tattoos
and piercings of Janis Lee's boyfriend Stu,
with the skull clad motorcycle helmet,
or Jimmy Smith staggering out of Ronny's
at four A.M.
They squawk octaves.
In the summer,
it'd be a chicken choir- Sally, Margaret and the others
dress high-waisted shorts and florescent tube tops rattle the pens
of sixty-year-old Montgomery natives, who still wear paisley hats
to nine A.M confessional, stay for coffee, sweet tea, and blueberry scones
with the Bridge Club.
Women cluck like starved pullets
when shame comes to town. Whether it's the tattoos
and piercings of Janis Lee's boyfriend Stu,
with the skull clad motorcycle helmet,
or Jimmy Smith staggering out of Ronny's
at four A.M.
They squawk octaves.
In the summer,
it'd be a chicken choir- Sally, Margaret and the others
dress high-waisted shorts and florescent tube tops rattle the pens
of sixty-year-old Montgomery natives, who still wear paisley hats
to nine A.M confessional, stay for coffee, sweet tea, and blueberry scones
with the Bridge Club.
Improv of "One Art"
I liked the repetition of the line "The art of losing isn't hard to master." I wanted to try using the repetition myself, mixed with the sort of rhyme at the end of each line.
The art of losing isn't hard to master:
Just ask Leah, who asks once daily about
keys or glasses, or her phone- which would be a disaster
if truly lost
but alas, they only vanish
briefly under the folds of pink or tossed
on the floor in agony
for the art of losing isn't hard to master
its losing you that's harder than mahogany.
She'll find her keys and phone-
glasses too; but not finding you one day
is the true disaster- for you're a welcome mat
on the front porch of a Douglasville stone front.
The art of losing isn't hard to master-
finding, is the true disaster.
The art of losing isn't hard to master:
Just ask Leah, who asks once daily about
keys or glasses, or her phone- which would be a disaster
if truly lost
but alas, they only vanish
briefly under the folds of pink or tossed
on the floor in agony
for the art of losing isn't hard to master
its losing you that's harder than mahogany.
She'll find her keys and phone-
glasses too; but not finding you one day
is the true disaster- for you're a welcome mat
on the front porch of a Douglasville stone front.
The art of losing isn't hard to master-
finding, is the true disaster.
Improv of "The Pardon"
I liked the line "I beg death's pardon now." It makes me think about death and what other way this could go...
I beg death's pardon now.
Before, flashbacks waited like cars at red lights
each night. Whether it be Uncle's murder-
which I only saw on the channel five news, where
Sandra Lee told of the .45 mm bullet through the skull,
but no shell casing. Aunt Sally's subsequent
suicide- electrocuting herself with a toaster in the tub.
Who wants toast with soap suds anyway?
I beg death's pardon now.
Before, flashbacks waited like cars at red lights
each night. Whether it be Uncle's murder-
which I only saw on the channel five news, where
Sandra Lee told of the .45 mm bullet through the skull,
but no shell casing. Aunt Sally's subsequent
suicide- electrocuting herself with a toaster in the tub.
Who wants toast with soap suds anyway?
Improv of "Amaryllis"
The original poem was about a farmer's daughter who didn't want to marry a farming man. But, what if she did want to marry a farming man...
Having been a farmer's daughter,
She couldn't wait to be a farmer's wife, raising
the hens in the hen house, waiting the allotted weeks
and then taking her little straw laden basket to collect pearl white
eggs to take to market. Waiting for the cows milk
to be brought in pails so she could separate it- some for butter,
some for drinking, some to take with the eggs to market.
Its her way- its her normal.
Having been a farmer's daughter,
She couldn't wait to be a farmer's wife, raising
the hens in the hen house, waiting the allotted weeks
and then taking her little straw laden basket to collect pearl white
eggs to take to market. Waiting for the cows milk
to be brought in pails so she could separate it- some for butter,
some for drinking, some to take with the eggs to market.
Its her way- its her normal.
Improv of "Goodtime Jesus"
I thought it was very interesting, writing a poem from the perspective of Jesus. I wanted to continue the idea...
Hell, I love
everybody. But everybody doesn't love
me. My twelve brothers do. They are supposed
to meet me today. He checked his watch. Am
I late? Oh well. The donkey meandered into town
while people stood and cheered. Palm branches
waved, drying the beads of sweat dripping down
the curve of his nose. That coffee wasn't good
on an empty stomach-where can I get some bread?
He patted the donkey, Are you tired old boy?
Me too.
Hell, I love
everybody. But everybody doesn't love
me. My twelve brothers do. They are supposed
to meet me today. He checked his watch. Am
I late? Oh well. The donkey meandered into town
while people stood and cheered. Palm branches
waved, drying the beads of sweat dripping down
the curve of his nose. That coffee wasn't good
on an empty stomach-where can I get some bread?
He patted the donkey, Are you tired old boy?
Me too.
Improv of "The Dancing"
I just took the first line from that poem...what else could happen if the world was a meadow?
The world at last a meadow,
filled with wild grass and poppies,
flipping back and forth in the breeze.
We waltzed till we pounded
pathways through the poppies
and flopped belly up in the center.
I have never seen the clouds so white,
or pillowy- we shouted out sightings
of unicorns, rabbits and Tigger jumping logs,
until the remaining red from the sun blended
with encroaching violets from the heavens
and my mother's calls echoed over the hill.
The world at last a meadow,
filled with wild grass and poppies,
flipping back and forth in the breeze.
We waltzed till we pounded
pathways through the poppies
and flopped belly up in the center.
I have never seen the clouds so white,
or pillowy- we shouted out sightings
of unicorns, rabbits and Tigger jumping logs,
until the remaining red from the sun blended
with encroaching violets from the heavens
and my mother's calls echoed over the hill.
Improv of "Wishes for Sons"
I love the line "wish them one week early." I thought about how in the poem, the speaker wishes this on her son, but in a different context, it could be wished upon other females...
I suffer silently in the last stall
of the basement bathroom, padlocked
in by the cheer-leading team.
Their perky wrinkle free
skirts, blindingly white,
even in the red of the month.
The rest of us wish them one week early,
but their arrogance in the universe
grants them a tampon from the sky,
and identical white skirts,
freshly pressed in the lost and found.
I suffer silently in the last stall
of the basement bathroom, padlocked
in by the cheer-leading team.
Their perky wrinkle free
skirts, blindingly white,
even in the red of the month.
The rest of us wish them one week early,
but their arrogance in the universe
grants them a tampon from the sky,
and identical white skirts,
freshly pressed in the lost and found.
Improv of "Colorado Blvd."
The line "bravery of dripping steel" used an abstraction of bravery in such an uncanny way and I really wanted to use that...but I changed it to a different context.
Jaws of blood tipped teeth
crouch beyond the armored gates.
Armies gather with bravery
of dripping steel, praying for peace
or a nuclear bomb.
As the gates bend to the
strength of brazen beasts,
swords clash against
sheaths and nails-
victory only to those who
can kill faster.
Jaws of blood tipped teeth
crouch beyond the armored gates.
Armies gather with bravery
of dripping steel, praying for peace
or a nuclear bomb.
As the gates bend to the
strength of brazen beasts,
swords clash against
sheaths and nails-
victory only to those who
can kill faster.
Improv of "What is Worth Knowing"
I loved the line "Van Gogh's ear remains full of questions." It just creates so many thoughts about what kind of questions it could contain and what ever happened to the ear. Where would it be now?
That Van Gogh's ear remains full of questions-
unanswered, now that it lies mummified
at the bottom of a Pawn Stars' counter,
next to identical padlocked boxes of
Elvis's tissues and Goldie Hawn's soiled
thongs.
Van Gogh scratches at his grave knowing
these questions are likened to
broken ping pong paddles from a Forrest Gump set,
and a "one of a kind marriage certificate of Lisa Marie Pressley
and Nicholas Cage."
Questions, for now,
silently smack against the walls.
That Van Gogh's ear remains full of questions-
unanswered, now that it lies mummified
at the bottom of a Pawn Stars' counter,
next to identical padlocked boxes of
Elvis's tissues and Goldie Hawn's soiled
thongs.
Van Gogh scratches at his grave knowing
these questions are likened to
broken ping pong paddles from a Forrest Gump set,
and a "one of a kind marriage certificate of Lisa Marie Pressley
and Nicholas Cage."
Questions, for now,
silently smack against the walls.
Improv of "Story about the Body"
I liked this story that this poem told. I wanted to continue and see where it could go...
He dropped the bowl, shattering and scattering the bees
about his feet and doorstep. Stepping over to get the broom,
he began to sweep them off, like he swept her off, and
she the bees from her studio. One by one, a pile formed,
mounding higher and higher- a hill of yellow and black.
He swished once more the straw, intending to flick them off the stoop-
instead, they turned on stingers and chased the door closed.
He dropped the bowl, shattering and scattering the bees
about his feet and doorstep. Stepping over to get the broom,
he began to sweep them off, like he swept her off, and
she the bees from her studio. One by one, a pile formed,
mounding higher and higher- a hill of yellow and black.
He swished once more the straw, intending to flick them off the stoop-
instead, they turned on stingers and chased the door closed.
Improv on "Little Oscars"
I loved how the subject of this piece was the true person behind a fictional mascot. I thought to myself about another fictional mascot that would be interesting to see behind...
Kool-ade Man
wasn't really a man, but a glass pitcher
talking to kids.
"Oh yeah" met giggles
from parents and children alike,
despite the audacity of tights.
I wonder who was behind the transparent bowl,
voicing the money pit visible
in every 7-11 and Kroger for decades
scheming families into spending summers at the lake
sipping pouched comas, and if he too
drank his legacy.
Kool-ade Man
wasn't really a man, but a glass pitcher
talking to kids.
"Oh yeah" met giggles
from parents and children alike,
despite the audacity of tights.
I wonder who was behind the transparent bowl,
voicing the money pit visible
in every 7-11 and Kroger for decades
scheming families into spending summers at the lake
sipping pouched comas, and if he too
drank his legacy.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Improv of "The Artist as Lefthander"
I was intrigued by the line "Each morning, thinking of you." When I thought about that line and what it could be related to...
Each morning, thinking of you,
I curl deeper into the blankets, willing myself
to mesh back with the world of down and sheepskin.
Where alarms and front page shootings evaporate,
while lattes and gas are cheap.
Each morning, thinking of you,
I flop to the floor, crawling blearily to the
shower, where the hot steam and suds clear
the dirt and gook from my fingernails,
final remnants of the day before.
Each morning, thinking of you,
I check, forty times forty, the clock
wishing for the moment I can join
you again.
Each morning, thinking of you,
I curl deeper into the blankets, willing myself
to mesh back with the world of down and sheepskin.
Where alarms and front page shootings evaporate,
while lattes and gas are cheap.
Each morning, thinking of you,
I flop to the floor, crawling blearily to the
shower, where the hot steam and suds clear
the dirt and gook from my fingernails,
final remnants of the day before.
Each morning, thinking of you,
I check, forty times forty, the clock
wishing for the moment I can join
you again.
Improv of "Broadway"
I loved the "electric stars" phrase from this piece and also the way that the poet set up the piece itself.
Electric stars light the way for
four hundred and twenty thousand.
They don't see the beauty of it
all, blinking new messages of
entertainment and hope
that for a moment, at least
we forget the terrible and drift
into the man made marvelous
night sky, beckoning with each timed twinkle.
Electric stars light the way for
four hundred and twenty thousand.
They don't see the beauty of it
all, blinking new messages of
entertainment and hope
that for a moment, at least
we forget the terrible and drift
into the man made marvelous
night sky, beckoning with each timed twinkle.
Improv of "Blood"
I loved the idea of "true Arabs know." I got to thinking about me and what part of my life only some people would know...being a Chicagoan...
"A true Chicagoan knows you have to take the bus to get anywhere near
22nd and California."
someone said to me yesterday-
I'm only from the suburbs, not the shore of Lake Michigan.
I have to take the train to the Tower, not a cab or four minute walk.
Coke and Pepsi are distinctly different-
but I prefer the former.
Bears and Cubs for life, but
the White Sox don't frost my snow loving heart.
Dragging out vowels and adding l's sneak into my pronunciations-
spelling both bolth-
yet I've sucked in breath
at the utterance of y'all...
with a drawl.
"A true Chicagoan knows you have to take the bus to get anywhere near
22nd and California."
someone said to me yesterday-
I'm only from the suburbs, not the shore of Lake Michigan.
I have to take the train to the Tower, not a cab or four minute walk.
Coke and Pepsi are distinctly different-
but I prefer the former.
Bears and Cubs for life, but
the White Sox don't frost my snow loving heart.
Dragging out vowels and adding l's sneak into my pronunciations-
spelling both bolth-
yet I've sucked in breath
at the utterance of y'all...
with a drawl.
Improv of "To Market"
I purely loved the first line: "All the long way from Jamaica."
All the long way from Jamaica
my parents come to bring me better life.
Life where I run fast through cotton fields of Kentucky,
I learn English from neighbor woman Sally Mae,
billowing gray hair and cat eyed glasses, playing crossword
in the splintering rocking chair by her mason glass of sweet tea
I almost break with my rock toy.
Night means we watch the television set for black and white
western shows, or lay in the nearly dewed grass
counting stars twinkling brighter than the lantern
at the end of the road.
All the long way from Jamaica
my parents come to bring me better life.
Life where I run fast through cotton fields of Kentucky,
I learn English from neighbor woman Sally Mae,
billowing gray hair and cat eyed glasses, playing crossword
in the splintering rocking chair by her mason glass of sweet tea
I almost break with my rock toy.
Night means we watch the television set for black and white
western shows, or lay in the nearly dewed grass
counting stars twinkling brighter than the lantern
at the end of the road.
Monday, January 28, 2013
Improv of "A Story"
The best part of this piece was the phrase "pure roach anguish." I have never heard anything like this combination of words before and just had to swipe it!
Pure roach anguish burst free from the iron gate of teeth,
soaring into the pale blue sky and drifted among cumulus clouds. Traveling slowly,
searching for a touch down place, a snow capped mountain top where no one bothered
to handcuff her to the bedpost. If she went outside, hypothermia would chew her limbs to ash,
but at least she walks without broken knees in the dirt carpeted cabin.
Pure roach anguish burst free from the iron gate of teeth,
soaring into the pale blue sky and drifted among cumulus clouds. Traveling slowly,
searching for a touch down place, a snow capped mountain top where no one bothered
to handcuff her to the bedpost. If she went outside, hypothermia would chew her limbs to ash,
but at least she walks without broken knees in the dirt carpeted cabin.
Improv of "Dead Horse"
The best part of this poem was the one line of dialogue. The whole poem is one scene involving a dead horse and then the father utters one short, gut punching line. "Happens." The death of the horse just happens...what else could just "happen?"
It had to have been about four,
sun burning pavement just under the pear tree,
when the window shattered with the burnt sienna
from the brick pile outside, meant for the in progress pizza
oven made for my mother.
When my dad pulled up, back from the bank,
discovering glass shards among the wool of the welcome
mat,
my father said: "happens."
I suppose it does-when your father,
the ex- con, returns from Rikers Island
It had to have been about four,
sun burning pavement just under the pear tree,
when the window shattered with the burnt sienna
from the brick pile outside, meant for the in progress pizza
oven made for my mother.
When my dad pulled up, back from the bank,
discovering glass shards among the wool of the welcome
mat,
my father said: "happens."
I suppose it does-when your father,
the ex- con, returns from Rikers Island
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Improv of "Robin Red Breast"
I loved the line "tunneling out their wits." It seemed like such a strong, descriptive line, and I couldn't help but snag it.
Watching the haze billow
east to me, I two stepped left,
out of the fog.
The skinny jeans with sweatervests
blow smoke rings at each other,
as they inhale stupidity; tunneling out
their wits and cementing in cancer.
Watching the haze billow
east to me, I two stepped left,
out of the fog.
The skinny jeans with sweatervests
blow smoke rings at each other,
as they inhale stupidity; tunneling out
their wits and cementing in cancer.
Improv of "My Papa's Waltz"
I liked the line "I hung on like death." It just really struck me and made me wonder about life or death situations.
I hung on like death,
rope burns blistered my palms and inner thighs,
as I dangled from the mountainside.
Who's bright idea was this anyway? To go climbing
without telling a soul? There's a squirrel
finding lunch in the wool. What's it like to smack
waves 500 feet up? Cement building barriers
around your bones and pressing together until
dust remains. Halfway through the rope-
the furry tail swishing around the fraying wool
emblazons my eyelids
as my fingers release.
I hung on like death,
rope burns blistered my palms and inner thighs,
as I dangled from the mountainside.
Who's bright idea was this anyway? To go climbing
without telling a soul? There's a squirrel
finding lunch in the wool. What's it like to smack
waves 500 feet up? Cement building barriers
around your bones and pressing together until
dust remains. Halfway through the rope-
the furry tail swishing around the fraying wool
emblazons my eyelids
as my fingers release.
Improv of "A Martian Sends A Postcard Home"
What drew me to this poem was the fact that the whole poem was defamiliarized. I wanted to take a stab at it myself and this is what resulted...
The eyes and mouth on walls
are not for fingers.
If you insert, jolts shake the body,
as though lightning sliced you in half.
The blue-yellow of the orange colored
cone invites touch, but take
caution for licking pain and smells of deceit
waft with the beautiful purple-pink of sweet peas.
In schools, adults unite on green boards with
cylanders of dust and no sound occurs,
but when some minerature adult
writes with fingers, high pitched pierces of pain
sprint through the brain.
The eyes and mouth on walls
are not for fingers.
If you insert, jolts shake the body,
as though lightning sliced you in half.
The blue-yellow of the orange colored
cone invites touch, but take
caution for licking pain and smells of deceit
waft with the beautiful purple-pink of sweet peas.
In schools, adults unite on green boards with
cylanders of dust and no sound occurs,
but when some minerature adult
writes with fingers, high pitched pierces of pain
sprint through the brain.
Junkyard Quotes 19 and 20
"Smells like someone was wearing a dirty diaper and dragged their butt along the carpet."
-Someone in the University Police
"We are doing pyramids in cheer-leading which means that I will have shoe-hickeys."
-Facebook post
-Someone in the University Police
"We are doing pyramids in cheer-leading which means that I will have shoe-hickeys."
-Facebook post
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Improv of "What Women Want"
I liked the first line of this poem- "I want a red dress."
I wondered though...what made this speaker want a red dress in the first place?
Daddy pushed Mom around
from room to room.
Made her feel lower
than mold on Wonder Bread.
She taught me one thing,
before unloading a Smith
and Wesson to the base of
his skull, and changing fox pelts
for orange stripes, a woman's
strength overpowers
any man's muscles.
Her eyes, never
tearing, stared
and her red acrylics,
dug as police tucked her
into the white squad car.
Her strength, sewn into
the red fabric, now waving goodbye.
My ten year old mind vowing-
I want a red dress too.
I wondered though...what made this speaker want a red dress in the first place?
Daddy pushed Mom around
from room to room.
Made her feel lower
than mold on Wonder Bread.
She taught me one thing,
before unloading a Smith
and Wesson to the base of
his skull, and changing fox pelts
for orange stripes, a woman's
strength overpowers
any man's muscles.
Her eyes, never
tearing, stared
and her red acrylics,
dug as police tucked her
into the white squad car.
Her strength, sewn into
the red fabric, now waving goodbye.
My ten year old mind vowing-
I want a red dress too.
Junkyard Quotes 16,17 and 18
"There's gonna be one less hamster in this apartment if Dexter doesn't chill out!"
-Facebook post
"Now he's poorly from too much electric"
-Michael and Webb: A Medical Drama
"Do you still have all your sugar? Keep all your sugar. Don't give away all your sugar!"
-Dad talking to young daughter...a kid friendly sex talk from T.I
-Facebook post
"Now he's poorly from too much electric"
-Michael and Webb: A Medical Drama
"Do you still have all your sugar? Keep all your sugar. Don't give away all your sugar!"
-Dad talking to young daughter...a kid friendly sex talk from T.I
Junkyard Quotes 13,14 and 15
"Eating a sauce dripping down your elbows McRib"
-Preacher at Pulse Ministries
"Election night was like the Civil War"
-Twitter post
"Your teeth been arguing since '94"
-Twitter post
-Preacher at Pulse Ministries
"Election night was like the Civil War"
-Twitter post
"Your teeth been arguing since '94"
-Twitter post
Junkyard Quotes 10,11 and 12
"Go tap dance on broken glass and hot coals."
-Twitter post
"Don't speed date your data"
-My statistics professor
"I want to shoot myself in the foot and stick it in an ant-bed"
-Shauna
-Twitter post
"Don't speed date your data"
-My statistics professor
"I want to shoot myself in the foot and stick it in an ant-bed"
-Shauna
Improv of "Helen of Troy Does Countertop Dancing"
So I thought to myself after reading the poem, what would she feel like after dancing each day?
Nothing is more opaque
than absolute transparency.
Look- the smiling comes to an end
and all the men retreat
home to their bundled, glove selling women,
with tight upper lips and paychecks.
But they sneak back tomorrow-
green bills in hand, to exchange
for visions, suspicions
and counter-top dances.
Nothing is more opaque
than absolute transparency.
Look- the smiling comes to an end
and all the men retreat
home to their bundled, glove selling women,
with tight upper lips and paychecks.
But they sneak back tomorrow-
green bills in hand, to exchange
for visions, suspicions
and counter-top dances.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Junkyard Quotes 7, 8 and 9
"You can be the King Kong banging on your chest."
-The Script
"Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street."
-Taylor Swift
"Probably shoulda washed this- smells like R. Kelly's sheets."
-Macklemore
-The Script
"Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street."
-Taylor Swift
"Probably shoulda washed this- smells like R. Kelly's sheets."
-Macklemore
Improv of " Traveling Through the Dark"
After reading this poem, and before we did the draft in class, I was intrigued by Stafford's use of the impersonal language mixed with the personal. That section "It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:/ that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead" stuck with me. I wanted to try that myself leading to the riff...
Hiding in the woods I spotted a walker-
dead, but dragging feet and gurgling moans along I-20.
It is usually best to stab them in the brain:
a gun is loud; to shoot will make more dead.
**for those who don't watch The Walking Dead...I am sorry.
Hiding in the woods I spotted a walker-
dead, but dragging feet and gurgling moans along I-20.
It is usually best to stab them in the brain:
a gun is loud; to shoot will make more dead.
**for those who don't watch The Walking Dead...I am sorry.
Improv of "The Promise"
I decided, after reading Sharon Olds' poem "The Promise," that I really liked the last line: "...if the ropes/ binding your soul are your own wrists, I will cut them." So I extended it.
...if the ropes
binding your soul are your own wrists, I will cut them. But,
merely fraying the braided wool laughs
at the quaking desperation
of my fingers.
...if the ropes
binding your soul are your own wrists, I will cut them. But,
merely fraying the braided wool laughs
at the quaking desperation
of my fingers.
Junkyard Quotes 4,5 and 6
"being told I'm gorgeous makes me feel like money bouncing off my ass after I leave the strip club."
"I'm gonna lock you in a closet and bury that closet alive."
"I'm not really a hot dog off a roller kind of guy."
--I can't remember where I heard these...I think the first was something someone tweeted one time, the second was something I heard while on campus and the third was something a friend's father said...
"I'm gonna lock you in a closet and bury that closet alive."
"I'm not really a hot dog off a roller kind of guy."
--I can't remember where I heard these...I think the first was something someone tweeted one time, the second was something I heard while on campus and the third was something a friend's father said...
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Junkyard Quote 1,2 and 3
" [The root beer soda fountain] is full of dirty water and lies"
-Ashley
*this caught my ear and reminded me of why I loved language so much
"[Childhood is] a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day"
-Tina Fey
"I have two rhinoceroses on my forehead"
-Leah talking about her acne
-Ashley
*this caught my ear and reminded me of why I loved language so much
"[Childhood is] a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day"
-Tina Fey
"I have two rhinoceroses on my forehead"
-Leah talking about her acne
IT STARTS AGAIN!
Just letting everyone know...FROM TODAY starts the actual blogging cycle again.
That is all.
That is all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)