Grass-Eating Boys’ Commitment

phobia is not the only thing that’s worrying
Japanese women. Unlike earlier generations

of Japanese men, they prefer
not to make the first move, they like

to split the bill, and they’re not
particularly motivated by sex.

I spent the night at one guy’s house, and nothing
happened. We just went to sleep, moaned one

incredulous woman on a TV program
devoted to herbivores.

It’s like something’s missing with them, said
Yoko Yatsu, a 34-year-old housewife.

If they were more normal, they’d be more interested
in women. They’d at least want to talk to women.

A quote from Alexandra Harney in Slate, quoted in Why Isn’t Japan Having Sex? at The Good Men Project. By Andrew Milewski.

Care and feeding of your reindeer

They are inquisitive
It was a lot of trial and error
I started with two, had eight…
it snowballed from there
It is tough at times
There are days you just don’t love your job
There is good and bad, but a lot more good
She’d walk onto the stage all by herself
then walk back to me
or hang out with the cellists
She loved the violinists
They died on the same day
Just old. Can’t stop that
They went and laid back-to-back
and passed away on the same day
But they lived a good life, that’s for sure

Direct speech in the WNY.FM article Reindeer in Hamburg. By Grace Andreacchi.

I say ‘biscuit’ 900 times an hour

The hippies of
outrageous fortune
weigh heavy on
the minds of dogs

From an account of life with Tourette’s. By Marika Rose.

The Jealous Friend

When we’re side by side
walking down the street
every glance is in her direction.
I pretend not to notice
but I feel like an accessory
it’s as if I don’t exist

I was ecstatic one summer
When she put on a lot of weight
and was wallowing in misery
I had a spring in my step
when we walked down the street
but she still managed to take centre stage
even with her muffin top

From What I’m really thinking: the jealous friend. By Lisa Oliver.

On Emily

There was an increasing divide
Between people she wished to know
And those she did not.

Her clarity could not endure
Social talk instead of truth;
Piety instead of “The Soul’s Superior instants”.

Her directness would have been disconcerting
If she did not “simulate” conventionality, 
And this was “stinging work”.  

But a more threatening challenge,
Deeper below the surface,
Fired the volcanoes and earthquakes in her poems –

An event,
As she put it,
That “Struck – my ticking – through -“.

From A bomb in her bosom: Emily Dickinson’s secret life. By Susan.

Purge the entire board

Testosterone-fuelled silverbacks
eat what they kill
in under-supervised dealing rooms,
skimming fortunes
from everyone else’s endeavour.
So far the remedies are
cough drops for cancer.

From Polly Toynbee’s Guardian column, 6 July 2012. By Rishi Dastidar.

The Beauty Secrets of the Empress Cixi

She kept the habit of having sliced ginseng in her mouth
ate pearl powder, eight-treasure ointment and flower food
Peanuts, soybeans and red dates…
‘We are not preparing for cooking porridge
but for making a delicate imperial pastry
a secret breast-enlarging recipe of Empress Dowager Cixi.’

From an article on the Cultural China website. By Grace Andreacchi.

Simon and Ruth

At first, Ruth was a bit put off
by the fact that Simon turned up in a car
with every imaginable gadget:
I wasn’t used to flash cars, she says.

Then, on a day out to the beach,
Simon messed up Ruth’s kite.
He got all the lines tangled
so I didn’t use it again, says Ruth,

who had, however, noticed
that Simon was very polite.

From the Announcements, Marriages and Engagements section of The Times, 18 February 2012. By Thom.

Miserere

I confess:

I have become  
a runner.

I go  
running.

I  
run.

Like a  
runner.

Which is what  
I have become.

A running  
runner.

Forgive me.

Oh Christ.

Forgive me.

From I have been murdered and replaced with a suspicious facsimile. In running shoes. Submitted by Ailsa Holland.

Brooklyn, Brooklyn

You live very self-consciously, in Brooklyn.
Do you drink juice or coffee or eat
vegetables? How do you live with yourself
and your bourgeois lifestyle choices? Have you
ever grown a plant?

You monster,
you gentrifying Brooklyn monster.

Your plant is a symbol. Punch that up
on your sushi iPhone app where you get
your food from in your new robot Brooklyn
dystopia, you invasive specie.

Do you like quirky things?

It’s people
like you who are ruining the Brooklyn
remembered by old folks who sit on stoops
and provide readily available
sound bites about the days of old.

From the article Brooklyn is cool until you start reading about it.