how come you're posting so much, aren't you in russia passing out over 200 proof vodka or something? regardless, this was a scathing and amusing piece of charictarization.
I guess what I want to know is what happens
when you need to replace your batteries (and Wal-Mart doesn't carry them
*snicker*
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125,016 Literary Works • 672,851 Reviews
I like your wordsmithing. I don't mind lines split over stanzas if they connect the two thoughts. The last line rubbed me the wrong way... I guess it's too clearly a modern reference for my taste.
hahaha... indeed. very very dirty. it had the word liberal in it *rofl*
I thought this was a dirty poem, it seems pretty pg to me. I didn't see any stuffed crust pizza in the poem eithor.
Ok, on topic. I liked the poem. It is interesting characterization, although more characiture ( I know I can't spell)than a realistic person. I have met some real prudes in my life and they don't all LOOK so extreme. But if characture was the point, sweet. As far as mechanics go, I am botherd by lines being split between stanzas. The space between stanzas indicates the end of a thought. It's weird when it picks up again with eh same thought at hte beginning of the next stanza. Unless, that is, you do it betwwen every stanza. Then at least there is consistency. And just to get back off topic. Stuffed crust pizza is SO gross.
If by stuffed crust you're referring to pizza, and that isn't some kind of euphemism that's going over my head, I have to say, it draws a nice parallel to the whole women getting boob jobs thing. I mean, pizza has cheese on it already. Rather a lot of cheese. Why stuff every possibly orfice with MORE cheese...I like cheese as well as the next person, but its not all I bloody well want to eat. I mean, why not carve the whole damn pizza out of a block of cheddar or something? And if you WERE talking about pizza, that was your point, obviously. and all this talk of pizza has made me hungry...and I'm on a diet that does not encourage pizza eating. Its called the 'Whitney needs to stop eating things that make her fat' diet, so basically I get to eat lettuce and tea and those nastly 10 calorie freezer pops I used to enjoy for some reason as a kid, even though they taste like battery acid. Well, I've succeeded in making myself obnoxious by dragging this completely off topic.
I hope it's normal, because, I mean, the rest of America is absorbed in accentuating the boobies, sticking their penis into things, and finding better ways to stuff crust (funny how interrelated all those things are). So I'm happy interpreting everything through Lacan.
aren't we all...
I was in Russia but after meeting with Dr. Lukva or something I was shipped into a psychiatric ward, which my parents refused to pay for, which brought me back home. Now, I'm without AIM and at A&M. Tomorrow I'm giving a speech over Lacan and Posttextual Sexuality.
God I've missed you; rather, your wit, the thing in you which I desire. Oh no...it's happening again. I'm becoming a Lacanian freak.