I don’t know.
I feel like I’m supposed to be tweeting the Twit now that the book is 15 days from publication. But I just don’t see myself going peacefully into the dull night of the “Really, Massachusetts? Really?” or “OMFG hahahahaha LMAO BRB LOL!!!!!!!” or “Seriously, dry cleaners? Seriously?” crowd anytime soon.
So for now, I’m running a semi-structured alphabetic poetics experiment from aboard my ‘tweet deck.’ [UPDATE: This didn’t last. Though I did make it all the way backwards to the letter “A.” Once.] Yeah. I figure banal posts about other people people’s poetry (O.P.P.?) can at least be classified as benevolent.
Sounds enticing, eh?
I must admit, though, that it’s tempting to twit the Twat every time I, say, have a thought. Here are some of the tweets I’ve restrained in the past two days, since ‘going public’ on Twitter:
Meditated this morning next to an open toilet.
Apparently my guinea pigs are now too upmarket for baby carrots.
Nicorette in yoga class makes for spicy Savasana.
Yoga Journal hates you.
I hate water.
Guinea pigs now too upmarket for baby carrots AND apple.
Don’t be afraid to brush curls and transform into Stevie Nicks.
Lady on A Train has bottle of Purell carabinered to her purse.
I still love you junkies.
Guinea pigs resemble Puffy and Biggie. The nasty one will surely outlive the sweet one.
Why shouldn’t she be nasty? Consider the collective unconscious of the guinea pig.
Book proof just arrived UPS!!!
Does book resemble a pamphlet?
Crying to publisher (via text)
Spin teacher really believes we are on the open road.
Publisher going to upgrade paper stock!
Why is that Misshape always at Souen?
Why am I always at Souen?
Mother and Mother-in-law are running viral grandchild marketing campaign.
Blackberry has now officially merged with hand. Hanberry. Bland?
1 Comment. Filed under Guinea Pigs, Information Age of Hysteria, Neuroses, O.P.P.