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A Baa Arson Anus Ya Tun To
A Baa Roan Sat Ya Snout Nu
A Baa Roan Ass Ya Unto Nut
A Baa An Oat As No Runty Us
A Baa An Oat As Runny To Us
A Baa An Ran Ass On Yo Tutu
A Baa An Ran Ass Nu Out Toy
A Baa An Ran Anus Tot Yo Us
A Banana Sonata To Usury
A Banana Satan Roust You
A Banana Satan Yours Out
A Banana Sauna Rosy Tout
A Banana Aortas Stun You
A Banana Aura Snouts Toy
A Banana Taut Ay Nor So Us
A Bananas An Ay Tortuous
Otohime 
It was a great poem that you posted then took down. Rage, disgust and terror are all on the gag list of inappropriate female emotions. Which of course is why they shouldn't be squashed or held back, but expressed. I don't often know what the “right” thing to do is, practically any situation, and probably shouldn't have expressed an opinion yesterday.
You might want to check out Dodie Bellamy's blog these days.
Take care.
Gary said in our last phone conversation (maybe our last ever?) that he didn't want me to be like Dodie, to treat the relationship as Dodie treats hers.I'm sort of half-honoring that (although he probably wouldn't agree), although I'm not totally sure why. Maybe a couple of reasons. I did love him, in some sense do, although I hate him now, too. I don't want to escalate conflict unnecessarily. Although, my nature, as you know, is to say whatever I damn please, and also to be confrontational. So it's a terrible struggle in me. Yes. My poem was powerful. Those emotions are. There's a lot I could say, maybe should say. But as I mentioned, I'm confused. Pretty imbalanced. I don't want to do anything I'll regret later. FYI this poem is an anagram of the name of the other woman. The previous one is the shamefully racist manifestation of my sexual jealousy. So it's not like I'm writing nothing. It's just in code.
Because I'm confused. Some days are OK. Some days are just… like I'm stuck in stinging sludge… crying last night weakly but also uncontrollably, bothering all my friends, I've become a total pain in the ass. I'm upping my Effexor dose today.
Gary seems to think that whatever I might write about our relationship or the experience is “slander,” but, I mean, I don't know the legal definition, but isn't slander based on lies? I would only want to tell the truth, or my truth, anyway.
And there's a lot of truth to tell.
here's what “wisegeeek” tells me is the definition of “slander”:
“Slander is the spoken or transitory form of defamation of character, a legal term that refers to a falsehood presented as true which could harm the reputation of a person or entity. Slander also encompasses body gestures as in the case of sign language. If defamation of character is placed in a fixed form, as in the case of a sign, published paper, film or recording, it is considered libel. In short, slander is temporarily uttered or gesticulated, libel is published or otherwise fixed.”
I'm not interested in slandering or libeling anyone.
I just want to tell my story.
I don't think that slander is an issue. He probably is just concerned that the two of you not tear each other apart in public, because it could add to the pain of it. But I don't think the poem you posted was anything other than you telling your story, honestly, I don't.
I think Gary would feel differently. “Lying sack of shit/inside his head// she licks it with/ her predatory tongue”… sounds pretty intense to me…
Don't let Gary silence you. That's insane.
Yeah but Jim, you aren't exactly the most credible person to speak on that topic, come on.
I mean, some self-silencing on my part shows, I don't know, dignity, right? Or respect for what was? At least for now?
I don't know much about dignity either. But I think all that stuff's overrated if you wanna get it out. Writers write. Don't let anyone say you can't. It's *your* story.
I mean, if it's your decision not to write about it, OK. But don't be pushed around. You looked very nice the other night
The ouch factor in the letdown after the party stands in for a tragic sense of life, saith Jijkl.
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He was threatening me. God.
It just seems like if people don't want to be shamed in public they probably shouldn't do shameful things and lie about them. That's all. But maybe that's asking too much.
Heavens to Betsy, do you mean to say that after the party God was actually threatening you?
This further complication of the post-my-party letdown takes matters beyond the tragic, beyond even the doggedly fun, into the truly scarifying dimension of the colmsred.
Not my intention to charm or flatter, just didn't like what I was seeing here in these comment fields. I don't mean to be your champion. Yesterday was a day dedicated to anti-bullying.