I always get a little concerned when I see people arriving at this blog by having typed seemingly serious questions into Google, probably looking for some pertinent answer and instead ending up at this reservoir of mostly not-veiled sexual language, other ranting and blather. I realize that people searching for answers online are probably apt to go astray in their lives if I let them try to construe answers from all this bullshit, so in that light I decided it was time to start answering these Googled questions directly, hopefully in the long run creating a kind of alternative q/a encyclopedia.
Here is the first of such:
(from Tampa, Florida, 9/10/08, 7:36:17 PM)
Q: how does the baby know where my hand is on my stomach
A: Your baby is made of urine. Urine is a high-carbonate polymer, deciduous in certain climates, and highly volatile in the flesh of the mother. When you move your hand to touch your stomach, the baby feels a concurrent ache in the corresponding region of where you are touching, much like the method employed in Cuban Kewpie dolls purchased for destruction of a neighbor. When you touch yourself with the baby in you, the baby's burgeoning urine body translates the ache you have designed for it (lucky you!) into a chemical signal in its inner-forehead (and labia, if applicable), which will to no small extent dictate the drive, will, IQ, manner, employment schedule and lovability of your baby as he/she sheds the urine body and moves to mirror the body you, the mother, have built before him/her in the earthen wall. It is advised in all instances that the pre-birthing mother keep her fingers away from the belly loin unless she (he?) has been well instructed in the manner of plurification and wise-rubbing, in fear of damaging the baby's whole entire life. A mother's hands may be placed w/o fear of repercussion on the mother's (a) forehead (b) cheeks (c) face, other (d) labia, if the child-to-be is son (e) thighs (f) eyes or buttocks (g) mate (h) earlobes (i) windows (j) personal urine (k) wig hair (l) purse.
I hope that more thoroughly answers the question, ma'am.
The internet is dangerous.
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Picked up Dzanc Books's Best of the Web 2008 last night at Borders. Hadn't realized my story The Sentence from Alice Blue Review was listed in the book's Notable Stories of the year. That was a nice surprise, thanks to all of those involved for that. Regardless, the book is a nice collection of all sorts of different kinds of writing, and highlights a wide array of the kind of stuff being done online. I am glad someone is doing this, it is important, I think.
Also thanks to Mike & Ryan at Noo for nominating my List Prayer for Best of the Net (a similar but different enterprise by Sundress from the Dzanc book) 2008. Kind sirs.
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I had to fight myself hard last night to keep from laying down in the floor at Borders, I felt an overwhelming sense of something burning, I leaned a lot to both sides, I was looking at something, there was a whipple
I like when people say declarative sentences in an interrogative fashion, such as: 'I can get a swig of your drank?'
That happens a lot in Atlanta.
I have probably been asked that specific sentence more than 12 times.
They are playing contemporary lite-r&b in this coffee shop. The guy that usually plays Pavement isn't here. I should go.
WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN????????????????????