h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Entry: The Lair of the White Worm - A77201543
Author: Dmitri Gheorgheni - U1590784

You people are so much fun. (You people are so much more fun than Peer Review, it's painful.)

Which is why I ended up writing this rather than doing something useful.

Most of this is true. One lie, though - I usually drink coffee, these days.

Excellent! I like it.

Little-mouth says 'Hi' to his friend

It's like Little Mouth has an inflatable girlfriend...

Brilliant. Love the 'Tardis' idea.

This is very good - evocative, true to life, with a nice twist ending.

And good tea.

Btw, Dmiti, have you watched Loriot recently?

Thanks, MVP.

No, Bel, what made you think of Loriot in this connection?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nJhNUE2tbS8

How...utterly...sad...

It's one of the best sketches, I think. But most are just brilliant.
So maybe you are the next Loriot?

I doubt it. But if somebody would make me a count, I'd be willing.

Ah yes yes yes. The willow pattern the willow pattern. The story yes the story and the writer who told the story of the willow pattern and the story of the smell of coconut cake. And the story inside the story that was the story until it became the real and then the real went out into the world to feel and found that it was entirely made of story. And glory.

Am I making myself quite and entirely and completely clear? .

Marvellous. Marvellous. You word-master, you.


cc

I knew you'd get that. I wrote this, and then we had spaghetti for supper.

Some time ago, I wrote a story about a man who tried to murder his wife by giving her a pizza with poisonous mushrooms on it.

Much to my surprise, the story won the crime writing competion run by the Society of Civil Service Authors. (That tells you more about the quality of the competition than that of the story.)

I was invited to their Annual Dinner and, as I don't normally eat meat I ordered the vegetarian option. Which was, of course, mushrooms!

I think I remember a draft of that story. Do I?

That is a hilarious outcome. MVP, the *dangerous* writer.

I think the version on hootoo (A34499901) is a later variant, where she kills him.

I like the idea of being dangerous

Heh-heh. Dangerous writing. It's like what Kenneth Koch said:

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/archive/poem.html?id=237636

Sorry, that's long - but it's fun, too.

heheh. yes. ah yes my friend! I got the spaghetti bit. I ingested the spaghetti bit. I became the spaghetti bit, before and after I entered the willow pattern. I get the poetry, I become the poetry, I enter the willow pattern with a shiver and a smile, and a thousand hungry poetry lights burn in my nervous eyes.


I think I might just have left the harbour. I feel kind of poetic at the moment. In a Mindstream kind of a way. .

hmm



Hang about, mvp. Didn't I recently read a poetic account, perchance written by you, in a certain quality magazine that happens around 'ere, about mushroom gathering in Ashdown Forest? so that was the reason eh? the mushroom pizza? . no! no! you protest! heheheh. Splendid! wish I'd seen your face at that dinner, when you saw the mushroom pizza on the menu! hahah.



Kenneth Koch. I know the name, I never knew more. Till now. I just read Fresh Air through, twice. Kind of amazing. Reminds me of Ginsberg's Howl. I don't know if Kenneth Koch would want to be compared to Ginsberg. My knowledge is kinda rusty on these matters.

I love poems like this. It sounds as if it was written stream of consciousness, but, like Howl, it is isn't exactly just any old words is it. hmm. so maybe it isn't written that way.



I get a strange hunger when I read poems like this. It makes me want to write and write, all kind of lime green mindstream daydream icecream in between never been always been and what've I've seen. Just to go on about the isness of everything however weird or wired or inspired.

Then I think yikes!, I'm not trying to be like Koch or Patti Smith or Ginsberg or anyone, like all famous and a proper poet or anything. I just want to do it my way. Inspired by them but not wanting to be them. Know what I mean.

Yet the yikes feeling doesn't last these days and it soon releases me back into the mindstream so I can swim around all tadpole squiggly and wordy word absurd word.

I have spoken. Again.

cc

PS Something weird is happening in my Guide Entry box. I think its haunted.

I went in there to find my Place of Definitions rewrite, just to remind myself that this piece is perhaps never ever going to get rewritten because it is lurking on a bridge in a town it hasn't yet found, wondering about orange light and gargoyles and geese and mirrors...

..and there were extra bits.

Extra bits? Extra bits. I am happy with this situation. My life is a mystery. Extra bits are my life. I think I might move into my Guide Entry Box and raise a family of urgent poems.