TUESDAY PRESENTS the various uses of puppies

(Because I am as always here, darling ones, for your edification.)

As social commentary.

As football alternative.

As software.

As panacea.

As trophy-stand.

WTF, Rae Armantrout.

Hello Dear Readers! If you are pausing here in the middle of a snowbound Internet porn bender, cheeks flushed and bosoms heaving, perhaps craving some cogent thoughtful analysis of the literary world in these futuristic times, uh, sorry. I had to read this this morning, and now so do you.

Much has been made of Armantrout's "poetics of WTF" but, well, a source close to HiFlo had a PRETTY POETIC EXPERIENCE recently and this was too good to pass up:

Now in a way I did have a “money shot” in mind, but not the porn money shot—the more general meaning of money shot. The money shot of porn, as we all know, is when it becomes obvious that the man has ejaculated. In more general terms, the money shot is where something is revealed. If I could answer the question “Why don’t you just say what you mean?”, that, presumably, would be the money shot. And that actually was from a dream, so I woke up with those words in my mind, and my first thought was, “Well why don’t I?” That would be the money shot. But it doesn’t arrive.

I couldn't agree more. Wasn't it Emily Dickinson who said, "When I feel physically as though the author has come on my face, I know that is poetry"? Yes I am literally twelve. It's a pretty good interview. As you were, Internet!

Life, ah, finds a way.

It's been more than a year since I wrote in this blog. A lot of people thought it was dead. But you know something, Dear Readers? Jeff Goldblum's alive and so is HiFlo. Welcome to 2010, the year where GOOD THINGS HAPPEN.