I've found Calista Flockhart's dirty little secret: GASTROENTERITIS. With it, you, too, can lose 7 punds in just ONE weekend. No exercise required, other than the muscles used to regurgitate everything from the night before out of your mouth and any leftovers out the other end. Yeah, I had a wonderful weekend! Stomach's still roiling from it but I'm feeling much better now. At least I can stand for more than ten minutes at a time, stay awake for more than two hours straight and eat more than bread and water. Of course, that's just in time for a snowstorm…
The problem with these journals is that by the time you find the time to write something in them, so much has happened that you don't know where to start. Or finish. Besides that, Salome says I've been talking too much about the war. This past Monday's show couldn't have worked out better than if I'd sat down and written it out play by play. Virtually free of Nationals veterans and "slam professionals," it was a bunch of hungry, developing poets leaving everything on the stage for this all-or-nothing shot at the semis. They all came strong and it could…