so I needen’t have a clever title for this post. Actually, for those of you who aren’t already in the loop, I’m titlephobic. Even when I know a title, I avoid saying it. And I used to avoid titling poetry. A professor then told me to start using first lines as titles. I did this for a while, and then I started giving them “people names” like Judith and Bryce. I no longer have trouble writing titles, just saying them. For example, I was out the other night with a special male friend of mine, and I wanted to order a special martini. It was called “strawberry fields” and I knew it, but all I could call it was “the strawberry one.”
So, moving on from my neurosis, does anyone know how to cure a psycho kitten? Lemonhead is getting pretty vicious. She claws at me and my visitors. And she wakes me in the morning with a little dance the reminds one of a sidewinder snake rolling over dunes. I’ve gotten her two dangly toys, one of which hangs nicely under one of my new end tables. She likes it.
Speaking of end tables, I have them. I have them and woke up around 7 this morning to write a slew of cover letters. That’s right people, I am a grown up. Grrr. I’ve been getting in touch with people who are missing all day. Get in touch with one and the rest will pour out of the woodwork.
Ahhh, and the story, the story, the story. The story is stalled. I put wayyyyyyy too much pressure on myself.