Seriously. Bad mood day. Maybe my hormones are akimbo, maybe my stars are awry. It all adds up to ugghgghghghghghghghhhh.
I read at Pete's Big Salmon's end o' season open mike last night. My legs were shaking so badly that I seriously thought, "Here's where I dramatically end my reading by collapsing! Fun!" No more reading in high heels. It already makes me nervous enough without the possibility of all of my limbs folding in on each other as though I were a giant pillbug.
But I got to hear other people do the reading thing, including Jen Knox's husband, who has fancy fancy pants and is not afraid of plane crashes and I heard Ada and Shafer's awesome pirate poems, which have inspired me to work on my bowling poem for Shanna's Bowlmore Writemore, and which may expand into a series of ghost story poems. (If you are confused about the link between ghosts and bowling, well, just you wait).
I was totally addicted to ghost stories as a kid. I read them voraciously, and hence spent most nights shaking uncontrollably from fear. I think I had this idea that if I were able to read and mentally digest every single ghost story in the world, I would no longer be afraid, because forewarned is forearmed or something. All I succeeded in doing was making myself ever more neurotic. Of course, I'm not scared of ghosts anymore. I've graduated to fear of serial killers, burglars, and bad sushi.
Anyway, if you're planning on having a Halloween party or something, I've got tons of ghost stories. Maybe I'll have a Halloween ghost chapbook! Oo-oo-ooo. Really, I've got a million of these things.
posted by Reen |link| 0 comments
