"Happy, Snappy, Sappy" by Daniel Handler
In addition to doing stuff with with my kids and doing tai chi, I've been cleaning my house. Not your typical cleaning, either, but major cleaning, including lots of trips to Goodwill and the like. Trust me when I say that it's long overdue. And that part of it is the process of me reclaiming my whole house as my own. (For those of you who missed the prior mention, my husband and I are in the process of splitting up, and are nearly divorced. But I digress.)
Today, I went through several issues of Poetry magazine that I'd held onto for various reasons - and one of them held "Happy, Snappy, Sappy: There's space in the living room for poetry," an essay by Daniel Handler (aka "Lemony Snicket") about reading poetry for pleasure. Here's how that essay starts:
If you were to walk into my living room on some weekend night, that would be creepy. But before I stood up alarmed and demanded to know what you were doing there, you would see me in a big black leather chair that, I’ve been told, is too big for the room. I’d be all dressed up, and reading poetry.
Read the rest.
Today, I went through several issues of Poetry magazine that I'd held onto for various reasons - and one of them held "Happy, Snappy, Sappy: There's space in the living room for poetry," an essay by Daniel Handler (aka "Lemony Snicket") about reading poetry for pleasure. Here's how that essay starts:
If you were to walk into my living room on some weekend night, that would be creepy. But before I stood up alarmed and demanded to know what you were doing there, you would see me in a big black leather chair that, I’ve been told, is too big for the room. I’d be all dressed up, and reading poetry.
Read the rest.