Scrivner

…is in a place I’ve never seen before on my Google searches called Wordletting.  Nifty name!  I was struck by the current issue they had at the time because no one, I mean like no one, publishes what may be considered ‘you-based poetry’ anymore.  It had to have some kind of a tilt or be about a psychotic cat or something.

So I dredged up a little something I wrote when I first met my way-cool friend B. (met being the optional word since we’ve never met in person) called “Jave Mocha“…which tuned out to be pretty darn coincidental since my way-cool friend B. lives in birthplace of the over-priced coffee.  Also, a very nice surprise, another writer acquaintance Christian Ward appears on the first page with his piece, “The Sea”.  Good work, man!  (How do I get moved from the fourth page to the first?)

A small dilemma – the poem situated next to mine, “Memories”…okay, I’ll just say it.  It’s WAY better than mine.  The title needs a bit of refreshment but wow, good poem.  Okay, so how do I get off the fourth page and get posted next to someone less talented?

Wordletting is holding on to my other two options for the April issue possibly.  Do you think they take bribes?

It’s easier to boil hot water than cold.

The guy next to me on the train

is listening to Nirvana

and sticking out his chin

in time to the bass drum

quite like a rooster does

when he’s looking to mate.

He smells like deep fry and ashtray

and has dog hair on the thighs

of his stone-washed jeans.

I wonder if he thinks Cobain

would be his friend

if only he could resurrect him.

I tap my Converse sneaker

in synchronicity with his chin thrust

and mumble sun destroys the night,

night divides the day.

When we stop

we go our different ways.

Every once in awhile you ave to assume that the ‘who’ of you gets buried beneath massive amounts of blog postings and there comes times for a reminder.  Or a commercial.  Or whatever.

The best looking online arts & literary journal in showbiz is currently in a reading period for the winter issue.  Yours truly is the flasher…er, I mean Flash Fiction Editor.  So if you have a story between 100-500 words (what some may call a postcard story, some may call micro fiction, and some may call per genius), submit it! 

My fellow poetry editor, Pat Carrington, gets the bulk of submissions but I am convinced that someday I be able to blow him a raspberry by having more.  All in all, this bodes well for you, the next fiction-writing champion!  Being the super-hero you are, you will know to read past issues to determine our style and you’ll read the submission instructions so your Email doesn’t get lost or sent to spam.  See, just as you’ve always been told – to be a good writer, you really need to be a good reader.  The proof is in the pudding.

(Funny side note - before posting this blog, I did a spell check to make sure i’m not completely embarassing my editor self.  The word “blog” is not included as a real word in this blog’s dictionary.  There’s a definition of ironic.)

You can’t not eat the gravy when you’re having stew.

It’s not the best idea to take bulky office furnishings on the morning commuter train.

Rock’n'roll is the hamburger that ate the world.

There are some products that you need to buy quality.  Plastic wrap and body soap come to mind.

First:  It wasn’t until we were halfway through France that we noticed Maretta wasn’t talking.

Last:  Ibadly wanted to climb up and join her, but I thought it would be safest to stay on the seat in case Mum changed her mind about going home and decided at the last minute to jump off at one of the stations along the way.

Teenagers are nectarines

who think they are peaches

without the fuzz.

Love is a blackberry

that bursts before you taste it

and leaves a stain all the same.

Old people are kiwis,

donned in fuzzy sweaters

and sour in the middle.

Wisdom is a watermelon,

lovely to look at

but hard to carry home .