The Bad:

A Dreaded Thing occurs.

The Good:

Dreaded Thing Occurrences are, it seems to me, a lot like Bactine (and, perhaps, Bakhtin, though elucidation of this would require much more thought): you spray it on, it hurts, and then the healing begins.

Dinner with My New Friend, who is cooler than Ross’ New Friend, whatever Ross may say.

Care package from another dear friend, containing, among other things, the following:

  • Amy Gerstler’s Medicine. Why I have not already read this book, I shall never know. I’ve only skimmed the surface, so far — reading the first poem, “Prayer for Jackson,” which is beautiful and lands with a grace rarely seen, and “Cut-Up,” read while waiting for my computer to boot up, with striking leaps reminiscent of the great Laura Jensen. I’m looking forward to spending the evening with “Lovesickness: a radio play for four disembodies voices.”
  • A Kelly Clarkson cd. I cannot believe that I am about to discuss Kelly Clarkson on a poetry blog, but it appears that it must be done. If you don’t respect Kelly Clarkson, you should, as her recent interview in Elle proves. Her refusal to promote herself during a charity concert, her reported refusal to accept a great deal of money to cut five songs from her album in favor of more “pop hit” tunes, her refusal to fall into the pratfalls so many young women have been prone to, herinsistence on speaking her mind even if it might mean not selling as many records — you have to admit, the girl has got guts.

Overall Evaluation:

Bad Scenes: 1

Good Stuff: 4

Sorry, Bad Scene. Good Stuff wins.