On being a better woman

(I don’t write poetry other than haiku very often. But here’s an attempt at some word play.)

I want to be good well enough.
Better too, but not too much.
Just good is good enough,
good like
the first lines around my eyes,
the second ball in the gutter,
the third rooster that crows,
the fourth man to finish,
the fifth pound on the hips.
It’s just that god damned,
always well meant,
hugely good advise
of better people than me
that doesn’t do me good.

I want a writing lair too

Gay Talese works in his cellar, strictly devoid of every distraction.
Picture: The New Yorker

The New Yorker posted this video about the legendary writer Gay Talese’s underground writing bunker.


No windows, no phone, no distraction. I have to admit, I’m jazzed!

I actually own a home office. Of maybe I should say: owned. I picked soothing colours of paint for the walls, dragged in a giant retro desk. I taped a giant map of the world to one wall, I put up a big picture depicting Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas on another. Inspiration guaranteed.
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