inferior

Confession: I'm typing this during Poetasters. Because I am a brilliant multitasker and if I don't blog now, it's not going to happen. And because I didn't bring anything. Again.

I am in a foul mood tonight. Big fat surprise. And I have a roast waiting at home. That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Domestic Editorgirl. Careful--she's copyrighted.

Question (because I don't dare cut off Will): Can the amateur poet honestly feel justified in disappointing the expectations of his audience without supplying something equally brilliant?

Was I allowed to speak then?

Home from Poetasters. I give up. But at least I missed speed sk-dating. Stupid, stupid, stupid.