This, like my second effort feels off-the-cuff. It gives the reader the feeling of a spontaneous moment of epiphanic silliness. Excellent.

This is a cliche, not a memoir.

The image of vacuous pages intrigues.

zen koan wrapped in corn tortillas I'm not sure that makes sense, but I did enjoy it.

This was gritty and spare, like a sand and lettuce sandwich you enjoy eating.

bleeding from the nib of a pen The pasting image is interesting, and it makes me think of kindergarten and the raging battle between paste eaters and non-paste eaters. How do you eat non-paste anyway? Is there anti-paste? Sorry, I enjoyed this, it's probably the first one I've written on writing that's personal.

Poetry does not a memoir make

From Little Women? I've never read, and have no authority to rate this.

Original, silky smooth fistful of contradiction

Sometimes, you stumble upon something that wakes you up. Something that shoots your testicles full of adrenalin and makes you want to slam both fists into your own potential and force it into action. This is not one of those. It's another kind. Still, I laughed. Mostly because of my lifelong war against all sock kind.