*pokes* let me know if you ever start posting again!

--
(Dark-eyed Boy, sing me the blues
your sweet southern blues;
I will always want you.)

So, I finally got a list up and running for the Link of the Night. If you're not on it (as in, don't get this message, and you want to), shoot me a note, or leave a message or just somehow let me know. Same goes for the instance that you want off the list - please let me know.

Happiness, by .
The Interview, by .
Rusting Bridges of Suburbia, by .

So, I did some peruzing, and earthed up these three pieces.
Happiness is beautiful in its own simplicity, and has a subtle kick to it that I find lacking in a lot of reading these days.
The Interview is an interesting little for-the-stage piece that I found myself cracking up over, all over the place. There's some great humor and dialogue going on here, as well as some great subtle toss-ins for the actors to experiment with. Something I would love to see performed.
While Rusting Bridges of Suburbia might be a little ho-hum subject-wise, the rhythm and control of meter that ~ honestbrutality has accomplished here is impeccable. It takes a lot of practice and a lot of control of vocabulary to get a good rhythm in a slam piece these days, and it's done beautifully here.



Get writing, fuckos. *jesusbite

Thanks for coming by and reading. I very much appreciate it--always.
You've been quiet over here.



--
do your part. love your mother.
Greenpeace [link] DATA [link]

I will crawl all over you.

thank you so much for the favorite...
glad you liked it.
you have some very unusual...but beautiful...art.


--
Sarah Jane*
(\ /)
( . .)
c('')('')
~"Of what use was it to be loved and lose one's beauty and become Real if it all ended like this?"-- The Velveteen Rabbit

Hey beautiful, how are you?

Thanks!

And here's where you've landed.



--
do your part. love your mother.

Thanks so much!

Thanks for adding me to your friends list ^.^

--
Your musky lips, cramping smoke into halos,
love to finger obscenities and slander. I am a bitch now.
Don’t touch her now, this thing of waste. She’s
Empty. She’s full of spite.