as it was recently noted, correctly, by my nursey friend Jen, this blog is mostly about infertility and cancer. so here is a post about neither: on top of my two stories accepted, a third magazine, and one I like, has deigned to take a poem. this is just after I had decided my poetry is pretty much banal shit which just doesn't, you know, sing. I am not telling the journal in question that, of course. nor will I mention that the line "Mercedes bends" in it is probably an unconscious theft from the Eagles' Hotel California.


the first acceptance, I ran around the room whooping. this time, I'm just bouncing up and down in my chair going "heh heh heh" like some kind of mad South American dictator.