Went about deleting today’s spam and one (spam) said “who cares?  the world is ending in 2012” and wanted to sell something to help me sleep, a mattress, or pills.  An apt comment, finally, after all that spam.  I finished teaching for the year last week, went on a quick trip to toronto, which according to my days there seems to be made of dim sum, mall stores, hipster charcuterie, and broad-faced kind of phony looking architecture (I should have gone to museums) and now I am writing again, home, home, home.  Please gods of making some freaking art already help me nail this book of apocalypses good through the hands and feet or whatever this time so someone will love it as much as, really, I believe finally, it ought to be loved.  One thing these last couple months produced:  I lined up two writer-friends to read for me this summer, one for each book in progress, each possibly really right for each project.  It was scary to ask.  One has a poet wife who reads for him so I can’t even try to return the effort.  The other might be my cooler twin at another institution.

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2 Responses to Plan

  1. Tim Ramick says:

    I’m very excited that you found readers for both your projects (especially if they’re “really right”). That should help with momentum. I’ve never found any readers close to right for my particular distortions…

  2. lucy says:

    well we’ll see… it’s so delicate. I wish I could be that for you, you know, but your work is always so intricate by the time it leaves your desk, it’s so coherent and knotted, and secure in its own logic– leaves me feeling like the tools for critique i use all day long, like say with students, are just inapplicable. you have always been good for me.

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