My ears, they burn.
Brenna’s said some lovely things about how she sees the city now, and while I’m feeling a little guilty about how her brain’s been colonized, it’s only a little; I’ve been walking around with these people in my head for quite some time, and isn’t the ultimate point of writing these things down to share that sort of wealth? —Also, I am inordinately pleased to learn that there were bets to have been settled.
Barry, meanwhile, was apparently paying attention when I went off a while back on Twitter about how much I hate all homiletic encomia for clear transparent glassy prose, because he went and wrote some lovely things and set them in a frame that I immediately went and glowered over at some jangly spangled and obfuscatory length, because I am rude and not fit company for polite society. My only excuse is that I was (and still am) chuffed and verklempt, all at the same time, which state is enough to cloud anyone’s judgment.
While talking about those who’ve done me the great good favor of Talking About Me, I’d be remiss not to point to Nick’s didread tag, where he’s posted his responses to this chapbook or that in times past. I must admit I’m curious to hear what he might say about the end of no. 9.
—I mean, I haven’t gotten any hate mail yet at all. Not sure whether that’s a good sign or what.
—posted 5364 days ago
