Sunday, February 04, 2007

Fuckin' HELL!



I have Ted Hughes' picture up because it just reminded me of a story in Plath's journal, about how he broke a bone in his foot getting up from a chair (or was it "exercising too hard"?). Anyway, I just did something to my mofo foot, while merely examining my car (which I'm trying to sell today) in the driveway. Luckily, there's only a huge lump on the side of my foot and I can still walk and put my shoe on...but, GEEEEEZUS, I do not need this right now. Goddamn it. What's weird is that I nearly blacked out when it happened, and a cold sweat started up... The only time I've ever felt physical pain like that before is when I've gotten cramps. (Seriously, don't mock---I've blacked out and thrown up from really bad cramps before.)

In short, I'm not going to a doctor, I'm not spending any money, I've got a car to sell today, I've got a big city to get to in 6 days. So this bone-break, or whatever the fuck it is, better just go away. Godammit.

OK, break (a figurative one) in the above narrative since a bunch of Indian guys just came over to look at the car. I had the Blue Book report, I had the NADA report, and I still felt suspicious offering the car for $300 below value. I kind of hate selling stuff, since I feel like a schuyster (sp?), even if I'm not a schuyster... But people from India---let me just say that they're not rubes! They rival old-school Germans in their efficiency!

Back to Ted... Back when I was in grad school at San Francisco State, my thesis advisor once told me that she'd met Hughes when he came to SF for a poetry reading... He later asked various professors to come for drinks... My advisor refused because she felt "bad vibes" from him! Good lord, woman! THE "Ted Hughes" and you're not going to drink with him because you feel "bad vibes"???! Sensitivity is wonderful, but that's just nuts. When Ted Hughes asks you for a drink (and/or to sleep with him), you just say "Yes." That's all there is to it. Please, I'm 80% gay, and sleeping with Ted Hughes...A lesbian can reject most average males, but this man is, oh, like Garbo or Crawford or something. He's seriously sexy and transcends.(And he doesn't have the Pee-Wee Herman front flip that most metrosexuals sport today---I can't decide which is worse, that flip or "the goatee." Older British, European, and Russian men know how to wear their hair.)

BTW: I once sent Hughes some of my poems, via his publishing company Faber & Faber, saying how much I hated my grad school program and admired his work, which was nothing like what my program considered "worthy." And that I'd had a dream, where he and I were sitting across a wooden table and I handed him my poems... He wrote back, a hand-written note, saying he liked my poems...

The Poet Laureate of England said he liked my poems. And some people wonder why I'm egotistical! ;p

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