7 bleed him poppers and coke and tell slim fey shouldn’t possibly lop at brother nervous vacation
- I didn’t even glow/know there was such a dang as “Geography Thursday.” WTS? (What the Suck?) OK, I’m game.
- Is it true you have to be removed from a location to write about it? Because that smells like dung beetle dung or someone reading A Moveable Feast while sitting in a coffee shop looking at eyes or maybe a conference answer to a hang-tongue/clam-eye question.
- Ever wrote in front of a mirror or a large window? Do tell.
- What is Southern lit? I don’t know. You get knocked down. Black holes burnt into a map. There is moss and gonorrhea. You scramble back up but don’t know your mind. What you were was it worth reaching fer? You can’t tell your Bad Faith actions from your authentic mind. It’s all a low fog, over soybean fields and the jawbone of a deer. You get knocked down. Why scramble up for something you might hate? Why return to your own spent virus/kudzu vine? Oak limbs. Several doors, later plated in gold and writing. A speech. Your home is a hole. There are other definitions aloose I spose. I couldn’t answer. Add cathead biscuits.
- Do you like to read first at a group reading or last or not at all or more like: who cucking fares, dude?
- Ain’t many links in this post, but fuck it.
- A friend of mine in MFA/grad school said she enrolled for one reason: “To get laid.” (Her words) Is grad school a great location for getting laid? I mean more than working at Chili’s or enrolling yourself in law or culinary school? Why/why not?
- 7
Tags: gothic, Hemingway, MFA, readings
I think the ‘Lay’ question is a matter of what’s at stake, the pressure one might be feeling.
Lawschool: superintensecan’tdarelookatyoulaterlay.
Chili’s: after a double on the weekend in the cooler, fantastic fucking short lay.
Culinaryschool: not a bad warmup for your disappointing job at Chili’s lay.
MFA: really, is there anything at stake at all to make it worth it? howabout: 30000 grand’s got to get me something lay.
I am married to a fellow MFAer so it is a bit beside the point for me, but it seems like an incredibly easy environment to get laid in, yeah.
4. lol
re:4, per the link, i’m assuming this laying is happening in alabama. it’s easy to lay/get laid in alabama. ppl. got low[er] standards there. talkin’ shit/shouldn’t talk, dunno.
no woman has to enroll in anything to get laid.
I think Alabama’s “get laid” statistics aren’t so off from elsewhere, JC.
Do you have a database?
yawn
i was in tuscaloosa for 3 hrs. and almost popped my ass cheery with a cross. wtf you think lovelace
wtf i think?
u were there in your mind not flesh.
ur bad
u ain’t my biographer loveless, i lived in MS and often went to AL in flesh
You are funny Sean. You always pose questions, acting like you want an answer, then dismiss any answer you don’t care for.
I bet that’s a great teaching technique.
Q#4
i have braces so i dont have an answer
u aint my biographer and I aint loveless i’m loveLACE
BTW I’ll be your biographer for 8 Euros and some cheese
I think the ‘Lay’ question is a matter of what’s at stake, the pressure one might be feeling.
Lawschool: superintensecan’tdarelookatyoulaterlay.
Chili’s: after a double on the weekend in the cooler, fantastic fucking short lay.
Culinaryschool: not a bad warmup for your disappointing job at Chili’s lay.
MFA: really, is there anything at stake at all to make it worth it? howabout: 30000 grand’s got to get me something lay.
I am married to a fellow MFAer so it is a bit beside the point for me, but it seems like an incredibly easy environment to get laid in, yeah.
there you go
You get laid if you’re good. No one wants to fuck you if you’re shitty.
Best sex I ever had was w/ a girl I met at my MFA program in California. She was Filipino and even though it was over a decade ago I can still toss one off to the thought of the magical things she did with me skinstick and her wonderpuss.
southern lit: when characters don’t yell they holler
in a holler.
5 is bullshit. how dare you, sir. how dare you.
[…] “What is Southern lit? I don’t know. You get knocked down. Black holes burnt into a map. There is moss and gonorrhea. You scramble back up but don’t know your mind. What you were was it worth reaching fer? You can’t tell your Bad Faith actions from your authentic mind. It’s all a low fog, over soybean fields and the jawbone of a deer.” (This riff reminded me of George Singleton‘s comic short story “Which Rocks We Choose” [PDF excerpt], which sends up some of Southern culture’s best-loved cliches.) […]
Southern Lit is a half case of beer on ice in the back seat.
poppers and coke
why only a half case?
a holler yonder, busy with younguns
if only because the other half has already been toss out the window.
one of my favorite words is kudzu
and i’m in manhattan right now – flew in from sf – and am trying to wrap my head around the whole location thing
i am wonderpuss