I've signed up to this site, right, where every time a celebrity dies they send me an email (right to my blackberry so I get it, like, immediately). Admittedly, it is morbid. But it is also exciting. And slightly disappointing. Either their idea of what constitutes a celebrity is wildly different from mine, or nobody decent has carked it recently.
EVANGELIST ORAL ROBERTS DIES AT AGE 91
I live for the day I get the message telling me somebody really famous has died. I wish I'd known about it in June...
The boyfriend has gone to Edinburgh with his dad to see Them Crooked Vultures so I'm home alone. I've written all my Christmas cards and have now retired to bed to watch the Dexter boxset my friend lent me aaaages ago. I was going to post a sestina called Sofia but it doesn't appear to be on my hard drive, and although I know it will be in the big pink plastic writing graveyard in my study, I do not have the energy or inclination to go and root through it. So, as a lazy assed trade-off, you can have two poems that are in my head
ps don't ask about the word count. I'm not speaking to it at the moment
I walk a mile
in someone else's shoes
but they don't fit,
they pinch and itch
and make me sad.
I was walking down the street
when I saw him for the first time
I felt his big, blue eyes staring into mine.
We said hello.
The conversation flowed.
We both collected two hundred pounds
and we both passed Go.
It was magic, exciting and surreal
he took me out for a Japanese meal
he looked at me,
with those big blue eyes and said
I think I know you well enough
I want to take you to bed.