My poem is the first I've ever published—in addition to the first time I think I've ever included it in a poem—with the word "fucking." For how much I seem to swear in real life (which is certainly a bad habit I need to kick), I try to stay away from such ugliness in poetry as far as words go. It's never really been a conscious decision, but now that I think about it, that's probably why.
Writers also include: Henry Combellick, Lightsey Darst, Donald Dunbar, Wendy Fox, Meredith Davies Hadaway, David Joiner, Daniely Menely, F. Daniel Rzicznek, Roger Sheffer, and Ian Williams.
Including my poem, there's a total of seven in the whole issue. I didn't realize how selective they were. No offense to Gulf Coast (which I do like) and some other journal monstrosities (which certainly isn't a bad thing), but it's nice sometimes to get a journal that doesn't include what seems like hundreds of poems.
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I watched the movie Keith a few days ago because it's my first name.
Also, it's based on a story by Ron Carlson.
The movie was not very good.
The story was worse, and clearly needed to be longer for any semblance of truthfulness.
I feel like the movie had a lot of potential, and some of the acting was decent. But the music was horrible, overly high-school-esque and emotive (but probably not worse than the Seven Pounds score), and I just had a hard time believing so much about it. That's OK with Total Recall, but not with a movie that claims to be a love story.
