Dear Myra Francophile –
Your writing, an effective (or is it “affective”?) novel incarnation—veritable prose Haiku—is extra, extra extraordinary. I like your repetitive and apparently habitual and unconscionable use of the words “epidermis” and “epidermal” during your descriptions of human, mammalian, unconscionable, beast-with-two-backs sexual intercourse. Your words are more libidoesque, societally offensive and tasteless than Walter (“Walt”) Whitman’s phrase “the hum of your valved voice.” Your work is God-damned censorable in this, the sacred year 2012, which is led honorably—I dare say, correctly—by self-avowed honorable Democrats and Republicans and Ron Paul. Why not expand your short paragraphs into plays written like immortals such as Anton Pavlovich Chekhov or Bertolt Eugen Berthold Friedrich Brecht? I write to you truly, like Thomas Jefferson, John Jay and other Founders of this proudly flag-flying country whose minimum age is a little low.
Sincerely,
– Ralph Harry Friedgen
About Tim Ruane
“It’s a woman’s job to make her man feel safe — a safe place that doesn’t expect him to do brave things just because he’s a man.”
This is a comment by Kat on the post “A Husband’s Job Is To Create Emotional Safety”.