Coffeeshop Writers Clasp Hands and Pray for Kym

 My feet were killing me yesterday as I made Halloween Cards for a variety of friends. In fact, Carolyn just called me saying she received my postcard.

We lamented that the post office treats postcards with disdain. Yes, it do!

The above card on the right is for Kym, whose cancer has spread. Jeez! She's about 45 years old but Martha Hunter said she's a real fighter and will try alternative treatments.

Good for you Kym!!!

 Yes, I signed the pledge! Gotten at the Upper Moreland Library this morning where about 8 of us attended the kick-off of November is Novel-Writing Month.

Judy wrote a beautiful prose-poem called "Cicada Killers." Oy veh! We've all had experiences similar to the narrator's who pees her pants in gym class. (My experience was in kindergarten at Taylor Elementary School in Cleveland Heights. It actually felt great to let loose, but my socks got wet, in addition to the puddle on the floor.)

The gym teachers in Judy's story were mean with icy-cold eyes. Same here, Judy! Well done.

Martha who's eating some tuna fish read several pages from her marvelous new novel "Naaman the Princess." Very visual we all agreed about relationships, Judy noted, between characters.

Judy asked Remington Murphy what name he likes to be called. "Rem," he said, "b/c it's short for Rapid Eye Movement."

I remember once when I met him at the Abington PO -he's since been transferred to Roslyn - I asked him if he was a member of the great band - now retired - R E M.

Sadly, he disabused me of this notion.

Once again he read us a terrific set of couplets called "Trumpery." He said he's been working on it for months and had a tough time with the conclusion, which was perfect.

We did talk politics at this point. Many folks believe Hillary will be our next president. YES. We all love Bernie Sanders, who calls himself a socialist. Rem had a good point. He should promote himself as a socialist like FDR and also Teddy Roosevelt.

Linda Barrett's imagination was on fire with the first chapter of her novel, "Finding Larry." We were all impressed that the main character Queenie, a dog, was the only character who had any sense.

In fact, Linda once had a dog named Queenie. The owner of Queenie was a man who smoked "funny cigarettes" - you guessed it - and also loved to drink. His wife was off fighting in Syria - good luck, woman! - and she had specifically told him not to bring any of his friends in the house.

Imagine, a man acting like a teenage mutant!

The group liked the first chapter of my novel, called "It Can't Happen Here."

Rem said this was a novel by the Nobelist Sinclair Lewis, famous for his Babbitt, Main Street, Arrowsmith and Elmer Gantry.

During my teens and early 20s, when I was on a reading frenzy, I read the first three books. Darn! the woman in Main Street, I remember, wanted to leave her doctor husband for a more exciting man, but reason prevailed and she never did.

Sigh.

Rem said Linda's story, from the point of view of a dog, reminded him of a Japanese novel called I Am A Cat, a satire wrin in 1905 from a cat's point of view. Linda has also written short stories from a cat's point of view.

Scott and I are going to wedding this evening, leaving home at 4:45.

We wear black. I'm wearing a polka dot outfit that's very comfortable and I'll wear black-painted sneakers. Plus the scarf Iris Arenson-Abbot gave me when she visited.

I was never a scarf wearer until now. I am so friggin' hip! Your average psychotherapist wears a scarf.

Here's the email Kym sent out about her condition.

Black attire requested at the wedding. The daughter of Scott's childhood friend, Paul, is getting married.  The wedding is at the Northampton Country Club.

   Oops, this is the Northampton County PRISON. Look at the tiny windows. 



In case you're thinking about getting married, Roberto, here's the link.

I told Marf who will never finish her tuna salad



that some of my writing was accepted by - is it Page and Spine? I always try new lit mags.

She rejected all my poetry. Then she rejected a flash fiction piece about my late father, saying "This is a love eulogy, far too personal to publish."

Fifteen minutes later I prepared myself for another lousy rejection with commentary when she wrote me, they're accepting Saving Charlotte and In Pursuit of Happiness, calling em 'absolutely beautiful' or some such.

Thing is - and I'll be paid when published $20 - that it's far off in the future.

Okay 17 more minutes until lift-off.