Sometimes I get a little crazy. Many years ago, when I was just a young lady, I convinced myself that I was going to win the Publishing Clearing House thing and ordered a bunch of magazines. And I read every single one. I had numerous science magazines, popular culture, whatever. I think near the end of my zaniness I had 15 magazines coming to my house every month. One of those magazines was Spy. I read those damn things cover to cover. This includes the letters. Back then, I’d only leave my house to get cigarettes, food, alcohol or to go to class. I was a creative writing major so all my classes started at 4pm. One Saturday night, all alone in my room, perusing my fantastic pile of magazines and drinking heavily, I know, it’s shocking, one of my roommates walked through the front door. She passed by and we chatted. She sat down with me and we went through my pile. I didn’t tell her that the ultimate goal in all this was the belief that I was going to win $25,000 a month for the rest of my life! I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. Anyway, I was reading Spy’s mailroom and saw mention of a high school I had attended and a name I recognized from homeroom. And, as drunk as I was, I thought I should add to the conversation. I felt I needed to give my two cents. So my roommate walked down the hallway to her room and returned carrying her manual typewriter. I drunkenly dictated a letter to the editor about all sorts of dumb stuff. And a poem. I threw in a poem as well. Why not! And we sent it off. And they acknowledged it. What a delight it can be to be stupid and drunk and kinda crazy. Unfortunately, Ed McMahon didn’t come knocking on my door while holding a bunch of balloons and flowers to let me know that I need never worry about money again. But! I did not, I repeat, I do not reorder any of those magazines. The zaniness passed. Temporarily, anyway.
Here are the poems.
