blog day afternoon
First, I must acknowledge my friend Jenn at The Palace of The Spitting Frog, whose excellent photos I poach freely with her generous blessing. And here I go, poaching again. She is a delightful blogger herself, but she's already linked over on the side, so perhaps you will have already met. If not, go meet!
But very recently, my good friend Hilary has begun a blog. Hilary is a ONE-OFF.
Here's Hilary, on the right, talking to my dear friend Bog Face, on the left:
Picture her like that, talking to you with a Martini in her hand. This suits her. Hear her voice as a California version of what the Preppy Handbook described back in the day as Locust Valley Lockjaw. It's shades of Lovey Howell, only young and hot and decidedly SoCal. Hilary is one of the most entertaining creatures I know. Former cheerleader, former blue-haired punk, has a life story to tell that is worth hearing.
And then, friends, I give you Pete the Poet. Unassuming, brilliant, kindhearted Pete.
Here is Pete. He is the bobblehead on the left:
Pete is the real deal. His poetry will make your head spin. He's got a fierce intellect that doesn't drown out his heart or soul. Running on all cylinders, with his eyes open. This is what you want in a poet. He's devoted to his work, strives to get better all the time. He's a real craftsman. He'll be looking for people to comment anonymously on his work, so he can know what works and what doesn't. I've never met a Pete poem that didn't. He's one of those people that has both true humility and no need for it.
By the way, I'm publicly calling out the bobblehead on the right. It's a crime that she isn't blogging. She'd be so flipping great at it. I know you hear me, bobblehead. Bring it, bobblehead.