Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

i like my ovaltine
hot or cold
it doesn't matter which
mommy, i want my minerals
and vitamins, not sure
how much of each, but
they're in there, and
it still tastes choco terrific
where's my spoon
how can i make my ovaltine
without a goddam spoon
mommy, hey mommy!
where's my spoon
not that spoon -
my special ovaltine spoon
that's not my spoon
that's his spoon
and me is not he
i thought you knew that
i thought you cared
bad mommy, i hate you now
i don't need you anymore
it's just me and my ovaltine
i'll be ok don't worry about me
anymore, don't worry about me
you don't love me

so light hearted
and yet
I don't know
were you really thinking about daddy?

not at the beginning, i was just free forming, but as it was taking direction i thought of plath's daddy. freaked me out that you made the association.

I was in my forties when my mother died.

that is sorrow i haven't experienced yet. i don't know how i'll handle it. she's 85 now and is doing alright. tough lady.

Daddy died when she was nine.

you ever going back to the neighborhood?

Daddy wanted to see her panties.

That seems like a flip answer
it has to do with the death of my father and mother
and my little sister's trauma.

and mine.

and of course paralells to the Plath Poem.

that only exist in my imagination

to answer your question
probably not constantine
I got no plans to anyway
But I would like to see jitterbug in Virginia maybe next year.
If I made that far I guess I would think about it though.

I found an article from the baltimore sun from april 14 1970, a picture of my grandmother in it. The article was about Eastern Avenue, the longest street with one name.

i sensed that you were being serious. thank you for visiting my humble abode. i'd offer you wine, but...