don't sell my story please

Dear Germy, as for turning the world upsidedown with what ILYB magazine, we was just clowning around, weren't we? ILYBmag was your and Nico's idea. I'm just a sucker. For what is an idea if not pursued. Just thought that would be fun. Thought that it could be possible (what would you want out, anyway, a publication called The Daily Grind, who would buy that when there's PDI.) I really don't care about upturning the world, it can go on with its ways regardless of me, regardless of you and me, but fun with me or fun and me seems not your idea. Bitterness is. But bitterness is best savoured alone. So there is nothing to share. There is no sharing it, sorry, it is mine alone. Lord, have I developed a philosophical mind from reading Sontag or it is just the old wit in me? She called Virginia Woolf's "Three Guineas" cantankerous feminist. Embittering the text. All feminists, writing or not writing, from the aesthetic or from the aesthete's which we are not point of view is cantankerous. Reminds me of Lia Lopez-Chua's poem Their anger aged/ hardening into a creed/ can't quote the next lines with exactness, I will be dressed down publicly again. All dressing downs are public. Thank you, Poetry, that you are not dress alone; that being dressed, you have nowhere to go. 

I start talking poetry and I forget that I am supposed to be quarrelling with you, for Nico's entertainment and edification, that they may admire and enjoy the bitterness of women and help themself to it if they likes. But I love Sontag. Like I love Lia Lopez-Chua. The men I don't love will never understand. What was I saying? that ILoveYouBabymagazine is apparently not your idea of fun; it was just an idea. Hauling books and putting one's life that isn't yours on public auction seems the more amusing. At least for you and Nico, when you are with Nico. But I can bet you, too, like the cads and the women in Jolo, have no fixed loyalties. Have not one loyalty. Not even to feminism. Not even to books. (Thought you would say, not even to Sean, or to Karl, just because Jan is sometimes unfair. Drop the qualifier sometimes.) Ya, Fair Germy. And I felt sunk because Nico doesn't even have 1k to spare for the books and the entertainment. So it was like friendship between women, friendship between women and gays, even women and gays who don't have men coming in between them making their day, is very hard, I should stop needing people I should stop talking to people, I will just leak in the mouth (to quote Sontag, when she wanted to keep herself to herself). Okay, Germy. Make your day. We only have one day in the sun we had better make it. Yes, Germy, I now admit: I alone write bitterness with a precision that stings the eye. It is a talent honed, though, I didn’t get it from my mother.

But Germy, Respect for the dead, please: If I die tomorrow and you are still up and about, you are not to know. You are to water your dandelions and mint flowers and are skipping media coverage and the writers who murdered Satur at his funeral are to be with you, gardening. Don't make a minor event of a non-event by organizing a search party. There was to be no death no disappearance no footnote about anyone's final annihilation. And you are not even supposed to know.  LoL, I can imagine Nico cheering, Nagsugod na gyud! The spectacle of two ugly unhappy women at each other's hair. Are you going to publish this, too?  Ang bayot. I think I will cry. If nobody profited from me alive, nobody has license to profit from me dead.

Don't sell my story, please. Don't give me away. You know I'm a monster in a cave, why out me, why protect me from obscurity. Remember Tolkien, on walking along dead marshes? Keep away from the lights!