Grepping artichokes and poetry

[kiya]

Sontheimer [shaddragon] says, "http://community.livejournal.com/bad_rpers_suck/267886.html#cutid1"
[...]
Sontheimer says, "'"It would make things like blow jobs easier if they were flavored," she reasoned to us in chat. "You know, like lollipops."'"

Sontheimer says, "'Against my better judgement, I inquired as to how such a notion came about. She said that's how her tabletop gaming group does it... they... buy popcicles and such. And then they...eat the popcicles. While they're held in interesting places.'"
Sontheimer says, "The original tabletop gamer orgy."

Tesla [oneironaut] says, "That's what flavored lube is for."

Babbage [lstone] says, "And perhaps flavored condoms, though I've heard bad reviews of those."
Sontheimer says, "I daresay. I've seen it."

Babbage says, "Even the chocolate ones."
Sontheimer finds the idea a wee bit weird.

Tesla says, "I've tasted flavored latex gloves and was not impressed, but maybe flavored condoms are better."

Whitney takes the image she has and attempts to pound it into submission with the pen.
Sontheimer's just fundamentally dubious about the whole thing. Popsicles make more sense to me than flavored lube, somehow.
Brooks [brooksmoses] says, "Yeah, but a popsicle condom would be painfully cold."
Whitney surfaces from arguing with poetry to comment, "Bonus cold things."
Sontheimer says, "Cold has its merits."
Whitney reflects, "Haven't played with ice since ... I think since I was involved with [rubberskunk], actually ...."
Whitney then waits for Tesla to start twitching.
Sontheimer snickers.
Sontheimer's rather fond of ice, and wow, those speculations went odd places.
Tesla actually reads the post, cracks up: 'My brain wraps around the concept about as gracefully as a Buick wraps around an oak tree.'
Sontheimer says, "Yeah, isn't that a /great/ phrase?"
Whitney gets a line, has it come out in iambic pentameter, wonders if she can build a sonnet around it.
Brooks says, "There is, I'm sure, conceptual art involving a Buick gracefully wrapped around an oak tree."
Tesla says, "'The reasoning was that oral sex was simply too difficult without flavors.' Then ... don't do it. Stick to anal like everybody else."
Sontheimer snickers.
Whitney says, "Artichokes."
Tesla cackles.
Tesla says, "Now I want pizza."
Sontheimer says, "Mmm, pizza."
Sontheimer has a dreadful curiosity now. Hrmph.
Whitney says, "About ice? Or artichokes?"
Sontheimer says, "Ice."
Whitney stares at this opening line. "Okay ... I think I see where I can go with this image ... but ... no words. Argh."
Sontheimer says, "Ah, the poet's brick wall."
Brooks dares Tesla and Sontheimer to google on "big sausage pizza", on grounds that it makes the conversation that much more self-relevant.
Whitney says, "Usually I get more to work with than this, too. Argh."
Sontheimer says, "Skeery."
Whitney says, "... sausage and artichoke pizza ..."
Whitney laaaaaaaaughs.
Sontheimer says, "Okay, I give; what's the deal with artichokes?"
Tesla gets there just as Whitney does, also cracks up.
Whitney says, "A fellow on alt.poly a while back got very huffy about performing oral sex on women, specifically about the popular notion that the results tasted fishy. No, he inisted, women taste like artichokes."
Sontheimer says, "... and that's such a remarkably unappetizing site."
Tesla says, "I think he specified pickled artichokes."
Whitney says, "He may have done."
Babbage says, "I heard it pickled."
Whitney says, "I'm sure you can grep it in your logs, wink wink."
Tesla says, "Because I have pickled artichokes filed as 'delicious and funny' whereas I have ordinary artichokes filed as merely 'delicious'."
Whitney cackles.
Tesla says, "Well, and of course they both belong to the supercategory Things That Don't Taste Of Girl Bits."
Brooks looks at Whitney, gets a very pained expression on his face, and facepalms.
Sontheimer puts that in a different order and suggests Brooks not hit himself.
Whitney says, "What, the sausage and artichoke pizza?"
Brooks says, "No. I just realized that, in order to grep my logs, I'd have to unzip them first."
Sontheimer dies.
Sontheimer says, "Brooks p0wns."
Tesla cracks up.
Whitney laughs hard.
Whitney thinks she wants to quote this conversation to LJ.
Sontheimer says, "You should."
Whitney tries to figure out how much context to include. ;)

I had the first line and the central imagery and nothing else for quite a while ....

I do not want to read you like a book
Arranging touch in rows like metered verse
Assembling paragraphs from silent looks
Or chapter-headings from the days traversed.
I do not trust the language of such scripts,
The words I read may not be truly there,
The scene I set can be too simply ripped
And then revealed as fiction laid out bare.
But read to me what are those hidden lines
Recite the story, charm me with your voice
And show me gently how to read the signs
That I may someday come to make the choice
To reread what I know now in my heart
Tracing my fingertips along each part.