The Poet is Taking a Break

I was in bed. Asleep. Blissfully dreaming about...no, I can't say that here.

Then the poet calls. And he's pissed off (I can say "pissed off" can't I?).

So, kids, here's the game. He's taking a vacation from the blog. At least for a few days. I haven't seen him this cranked about something in some time. I don't take my relationships as seriously as he does (he places his relationships and his poetry side by side in a little alcove right next to God and the survival of the entire human race) and I'd be in an unsmiling mood. Plus, he has all the pressure of the CD and Book Release Party coming up, with the specter of this crap to distract him.

I am sure he'll be back, and I am supposed to let him know about comments posted, and to clean up the obviously bogus ones.

I guess he will be taking emails, and he told me he slipped his phone number to the real Jaz, for emergencies. Obviously he has a backchannel to her, and he's going to ground.

Wow, when he gets mad, he gets mad, eh? Um...is he supposed to foam at the mouth like that? I see he's been using a teeth whitener.

Can I go back to sleep now?