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NauenThen: Something's up & I can't add posts at the moment. The tech people at the Authors Guild are trying to fix it. Back as soon as possible! 


This year it stands for National Poetry Writing Month. I don't have a quick novel in me this year but I do have a poem a day, although Zacks says every day is PoWri day, yoyo. Yesterday I was rapturous at spotting a raptor (they have two foveas, that's why an eagle is "eagle-eyed") and today we saw Birdman. I'm puzzled by it, especially the decision to give us 2 hours of drum solo, and wonder why a man with telekinetic powers can't snap his finger at the door that's locked behind him & get back in without having to bustle through Times Square in his tighty whities. I didn't buy theTimes critic at all—not only do I not think she would tell a director or playwright in advance that she was going to close his show, but I think the (presumed) gimmick would make her less not more likely to give it a rave. It was fun seeing Birdman (Michael Keaton) fly & fun seeing things explode. I can only admire the bold risk of dropping special effects into a Raymond Carver play (within a play).
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