A Random Image
 

Jett Superior laid this on you on || August 28, 2001 || 8:23 am

I am presently sitting in front of my computer, mightily tempted to put my head through the monitor. Of course you wanna know why, so I’m about to tell you: I’ve spent the last half-hour typing up bad reaaally bad atrociously rotten poetry for a few greenbacks.

The woman that I agreed to type them for is a bad reaaally bad artist, so I don’t know why I expected her poetry to be any better. The shit of it is that she is a retired teacher. What was it she taught? English. “Those who can’t,….”

Two guesses as to what she wants to do with the poems after they’re typed, and if you guessed that she’s gonna roll around in honey and then stick my neatly typeset pages to her naked flesh, well, uh, you were just wrong. You were more than wrong. You were WRONG (you know, like in that making-the-gesture-for-crazy-next-to-your-temple sense).

Anyway, she is going to have them litho’d OVER her really bad paintings *ACK*, so I’ve typeset them in a font called ‘CAC Leslie’. That font reminds me of the ones you see on those crappy, sentimental greeting cards that make me want to claw my eyeballs out. The ones with bad art. And bad poetry.

She adores this font, by the way, and told me that I have such a wonderful sense of her work, of her. I wanted to wail like a baby in need of a teat.

I think the worst part of this job is not even the icky words. I could ignore them if I simply had to type, but that’s not the case. She has them laid out all funky, so I am forced to pay attention to what’s written. She thinks that if her words have a funky layout, then they will come across as more ‘artistic’. They don’t. They come across as bad reaaally bad atrociously rotten poetry laid out badly reaaally badly.

I shouldn’t have worked on this first thing in the morning. It’s too early for this shit.

Nobody worked it out »

Don´t be shy. Lay it on me.

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