SO many hours in the car this week, only about a third of them planned. I think the city should hire people to walk around with propane flame-throwers to melt everything down. I think it would be an awesome sight-- yellow jumpsuits with SNOW in a circle with an X, special goggles, gloves, little backpacks with propane tanks and the blaze, the blaze melting it all into the Harbor. Nothing could possibly go wrong...
Yesterday I woke up with a smile. I dreamt that James Joyce was texting me. I'm not making it up! Imagine-- I think Joyce would have gotten a huge kick out of the randomness and the language screwiness of texting. I wish I could remember what his text said, but that part of the dream is gone. I'll have to invent it.
The i.e. reading went well. Only a handful of people showed up, but that kinda worked in my favor. My voice cracked at times and I lost my breath more often than I'd like to remember, but I read my new stuff and it went over well. Michael Ball invited me back to read with Chris Nealson and maybe, quite possibly
Cole Swensen!
What an exciting thought.
My husband bought me the new Salt Hill. It's hands down my favorite journal. Here are a few good quotes from an interview with John Robert Lennon:
"The thing is, I really like flawed novels when other people write them."
"I think overwriting is the tendency not to exercise judgement in the accretion of detail... The eye and the ear of a reader want to go to certain places; the overwriter forces them to pay attention to elements chosen not for their importance to the story but for their significance to the writer."
"My other interests--music and photography-- inform and influence my fiction, to some extent, but for the most part they're the product of an excess of desperate creative energy that I lack the patience to plough entirely into my fiction."
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