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Posted: Wed Jan 10, 2007 2:37 am Post subject:

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Hi Pete ~

I'm finally getting the chance to start over, and just sit here and read this tonight... some much-needed laughter's coming along with it . Just finishing Part II... since I need to get more sleep tonight than last night, I may or may not complete Part III. Very clever and funny, as always, Pete... thanks, Pal !


Love,
Lizzy

Back in and talking fast before my computer freezes, again. Just finished Part III... will move on to IV ASAP. Loving it, Pete... laughing and loving. Tell Liz I said "Hi," okay ?


Love,
Lizzy

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lizzytysh



Joined: 27 Jun 2002
Posts: 13058
Location: Florida, U.S.A.
Posted: Thu Jan 11, 2007 11:22 am Post subject:

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It's 6:18 in the morning here, Pete, and I'm alone at my computer, laughing out loud. You've no idea what you'll be taking from my life when your saga ends. You're such a funny writer and I'm enjoying this so much... Bobbles has just crashed the taxi . I'm getting gladder and gladder that I still have so far to go . Does it really have to end!?!


Love,
Lizzy

Just finished Book 1. Will wait to start on Book 2... modus operandi has shifted to savour . Thanks for the dance .

. . . and I have read all of Pete's saga and
it's magnif, really droll, accurate, hilarious, and deeply touching.
You can post that I said that but am just too bizzy, Lizzy, to write a
post and attend to it, esp. No. 16, a pound of flesh, eh?

JUDITH FITZGERALD, ABD/Ph.D., is currently a regular contributor to the Books and Review Sections of The Globe and Mail (where she won the Fiona Mee Award for her "outstanding contribution to English-language literary journalism"). She has written columns, criticism, and features for the arts, culture, media, and sports pages of such as The Ottawa Citizen, The Windsor Star, The Kingston Whig-Standard, The Toronto Star, The National Post, Poetry, and Books in Canada. A respected utility-infielder commentarian, songwriter, translator, baseballographer, and geek, she has served as writer-in-residence at the Hamilton Public Library, Laurentian University, Algoma University College, Le Salon Sensu, and the University of Windsor.

The author of twenty collections of poetry, a pair of acclaimed best-selling biographies (Marshall McLuhan: Wise Guy and Building a Mystery: The Story of Sarah McLachlan and Lilith Fair) as well as countless contributions to first-class anthologies and periodicals around the globe, Fitzgerald is also the editor of a trio of ground-breaking anthologies (most notably, Sp/Elles and Un Dozen), not to mention several prose and poetry volumes inked by others, many of which earned accolades in their own right.

Fitzgerald's Rapturous Chronicles was nominated for the Governor-General's Poetry Award; her epyllion, River, was both shortlisted for the Trillium Award and honoured with the James McMaster Poetry Prize while her collection of ghazals and sonnets, Twenty-Six Ways Out of This World, was named one of the six best poetry collections published in English (The Globe and Mail's Top 100) the year Oberon released it. Given Names: New and Selected Poems, shortlisted for the Pat Lowther Award, earned the ex-Torontonian a Writers' Choice Award.

The 2003-2004 Poetry Fellow of the Chalmers Arts Foundation and recipient of the prestigious George Woodcock and Canadian Writers' Foundations' Trust-Fund Awards now calls Northern Ontario's Almaguin Highlands home. She is presently completing "Leonard Cohen: Master of Song" (XYZ, 2007) and the closing volume of her critically acclaimed ADAGIOS QUARTET, "Oh, Clytaemnestra!" (Oberon, 2007).

Already declared the first successful epic written by a woman in the history of English-language literature by, among others, respected Canadian, American, Indian, British, Greek, and French belle-lettrists, her ADAGIOS QUARTET will, upon completion, provide readers with a comprehensive marshalling of the contents of the contemporary mind of the world in situ. Perhaps no one has said it better than Dilshad Engineer:

Electra's Benison is the third of a four-part epic series. The Adagios Quartet encompasses several facets of the myth of Agamemnon, treating it as a commentary on contemporary political and personal realities. In the wonderful poem before us, Judith Fitzgerald portrays the grief and the passion of loss — not only the grief of one woman, but also the loss to be endured by civilisation itself — speaking of a truth as real today as it was for ancient Greece two-thousand years ago.

The breadth, scope, range, and technical excellence of her work continually astonish readers and critics alike, prompting such as Harman Grisewood, Michael Ondaatje, David Staines, Thomas Dilworth, Priscilla Ng, Robert Buckeye, Jeffery Donaldson, Joanna M. Weston, and Robin Robertson to speak admiringly of its command of form, content, and craft. Not only has Fitzgerald translated the work of Nobel Laureates Jaroslav Seifert and Giorgos Seferis, she has also seen her own writing translated into Italian, Greek, Finnish, Gaelic, French, Dutch, Russian, et so forthia.

For more information on the life and work of the woman Leonard Cohen considers "one of the world's greatest poets" (or to read representative samplings as well as commentary concerning the writing's value), please feel free to browse the links and pages featuring on her award-winning WriteSite.

Ladyali had rejoined the fold

But, this all happened many years ago and Jodyelocks now lived in her own little house at the top of tablecloth mountain overlooking the sea. She had exhausted all the 'boys' in town but there was one she pined for ...day and night and night and day. On the stroke of every hour the cuckoo in her cuckoo clock would crow and she would rush to the window and gaze longingly out to sea... looking for her one true love.
'Just a minute!!??'you yell, 'Cuckoos don't crow!'
Jodyelocks had bought this clock from a dodgy Scottish geezer a few years previous .....a Scotsman by the name of Handy McCleaver. It wasn't until she had got it home that she realised that she had been had. She remembered her mother once saying, "Jodyelocks, never buy a cuckoo clock from a Scotsman with a cleaver... it'll drive you mccuckoo."
Jodyelocks wished she had heeded her mother's advice for indeed it was driving her mccuckoo, but this was insignificant in the whole scheme of things.

The seaweed was not making here splutter anymore ...it was now wrapped around her neck ...and the seagull was not letting go of her ring ...oh, and by the way ...the water was going down her nose. All in all, not an appealing situation to be in ......especially before her one true love.

And after the short while had elapsed, the duck got it... the razor shell decapitating the duck in one slice ...then two slices ...followed by millions of slices. Shredded duck adorning the shore, ready for the incoming tide to take it to it's final resting place.

"Aaaarrrrrggggghhhh!!!" Johnny screamed inside. He wanted to scream outside but his quest needed a little decorum. "Listen. I came to find you and you've slaughtered and tortured my duck and I feel like throwing up where my duck fell down. Am I supposed to praise the lord or make some kind of joyful sound? ...I think not. You just listen to me now before I go round and round and round."

"You know something, Johnny? We haven't kissed,"
"How many kisses, Miss Locks?"
"Just a thousand kisses, Mr Deep."