Purple Hat Willow!

Whenever I've had one of those days that is shitty-as-hell, I want to punch twenty babies, and every moment is laden with a silent gloom and disillusion, I just think of purple floppy hat Willow, and all is right with the world again.

But, what if the talking thing becomes the awkward silence thing?

I think you guys sound good.

I bet you have a lot of groupies.

Oh no! Buffy's party!

Hehe. I said "date."

Flannery

I recently found a link to download a talk with The Fiction Master. She gave a lecture at Notre Dame about a year before she died in 1964, and also gave a reading of "A Good Man is Hard to Find." The person who posted it is probably violating copyright laws, because it's only available through the university's archives at a somewhat expensive fee, which is why the part of her reading was removed, but her talk is still up. Listen to it while you can, if interested. It's a rare treat and something you won't come across every day. In it, she comments on the grotesque in her writing and in Southern writing, along with the relationship both have to her Catholicism. Great stuff, and it's here.

(Source)