Friday, January 04, 2008

Your Mistress Returns with a Freezy Botty

My copy of VQR arrived when I was out of town, so Elegant Choice brought it with him when he flew into Cincinnati on the 26th. This unhappily led to it being passed around to my family members, which unhappily led to some grandmotherly speculation that I had "been inspired by seeing a statue of a famous scientist, such as Newton." So close, Grandma! Excellent woman! And you will hardly believe my good fortune, but the very same day I was treated to a motherly disquisition on the topic of Art and Realism:

MOM: Some would say that the Impressionists didn't paint the most realistic pictures, but in time we came to accept them, and now we think, who could improve on, uh, Monet?

Anyway, the issue is beautiful--Chris Ware gave it a magnificent face and contributed a small section to its intestine, and you will also be overjoyed to encounter a certain de la Paz in its pages. My poems are only available in reality, so you must touch a copy with your true hands if you want to read them. Or, if that doesn't appeal to you, you can call my grandmother and receive a summary which exceeds the virtues of the actual poems in every possible regard.

Additionally, I return to you richer in the following things: sneakers, cameras, and MAGICAL MONEY POUCHES. One day Elegant Choice arrived home early from work to discover me devouring information about fairies with a drawstring pouch full of quarters in my lap. "What...are you doing?" he gamely asked. "NOTHING," I averred. "Were you playing Magical Money Pouch?" "I was," I confessed, and buried my face in my hands. A few weeks later, a suspicious package arrived. Ask me if I'm wearing it right now.

3 comments:

RHE said...

That's grand for you. My family's comments on proffered publications tend to run to, "That's nice. Did I ever tell you that Michael Eberhardt is an orthodontist now?"

Tricia said...

That sounds preferable, actually--I've been wondering what old Michael Eberhardt was up to.

steef said...

My mother still has the journal from six years ago containing my first published poem proudly displayed on a coffee table in her basement, in front of the couch that no one sits on, facing her enormous treadmill which fills most of the room.

You actually got me to re-subscribe to the VQR. I used to get it, back in the pre-National Magazine Award days when it was still stodgy and dull and monochromatic. It's so prestigious now! Congrats!