On Tue, 29 Oct 1996, Rosetta wrote:
> the first time i "met" you, years after the fact,
> i wondered that the attraction i felt did not rip
> me in two.
Yow.
> after weeks of analysis i still cannot determine
> why i want to wrap my fingers around yours and walk
> in the autumn dust. no calculations of your height
> or weight or eyeglass perscription reveals your soul
> to me. your birthdate cross referenced with mine
> divided by the phase of the moon on the day we met
> shows no predestination. we are not "star crossed."
Move the autumn dust and give the reader more of the
numbers, or keep the dust there but add more to it
to balance the equations.
> all this does nothing for my irrational hormones.
does nothing to appease my irrational hormones (maybe)
> they want you to love me, to feed me books and let
> me feed you mine. i want to watch two people on a
> small television screen kiss and be able to put my
> hand on yours because i know we are feeling the same
> joy.
The books are good. The hand is good too but not from
a literary standpoint-- more details about the tv show?
> i want to work with you, fight with you, cry
> at the cheezy parts of movies, argue the merit of a
> mathematical proof, plan a game, plan a
>
> kirk, i don't think this is going where i want it to.
> i'm going to try again right now. if there's something
> in this that you like, will you tell me about it?
I'm giving you literary criticism- and from my Blenderish
standpoint I like this a lot. From a personal standpoint I
like it a lot as well. The idea of finding something
steady and, well, normal in the sense of being viable and
stable is important to me, of building something that
doesn't crik-crack like ice in warm water when stress
levels rise...
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At this point, I'm commenting on a prose piece R. had written and
asked for feedback on, kind of workshopping it.
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