dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Monday, May 15, 2006

olive-eating prosers

I've been working on this long essay about my breasts. It's finally done now, I think. I finally had Erik read it tonight, and he really liked it, though it's emotional, and he's concerned about how vulnerable it is. Then we talked about it for a long time. I think I have the six sections arranged nicely--might switch II and III. It will be in issue 37 of the zine.

Today I started a something--non-fiction story?--about my second college roommate and her boyfriend. More dialogue is slowly creeping into my non-fictions, which is good. I still don't know how to tell a story. But maybe I can slowly find my own way. My friend C told me I should just do things my own way and not worry about it. I want to believe.

I made Erik some Marmite sandwiches for his lunch tomorrow. And he likes this pasta sauce with olives in it. I'm creeping him over to the dark side. I got an email from him today. I just about peed my pants with delight. Our computers can't talk to eachother, but we should be able to share files just fine emailing them.

I want to do a bunch of trades from the latest Zine World supplement (which reviewed Erik and Laura-Marie #26) PDF, but I don't have anything to trade, so I either need to make #37 soon or do a second run of #36, which is not a bad idea, since I think it was the best yet, but wouldn't you hope that each one was the best yet, so maybe I'll just wait and make extra of #37. Oops, too many numbers, sorry.

1 Comments:

  • At May 19, 2006 7:16 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I can't write a story. I just list facts. Poems work so much better for me.

    Heather

     

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