Nerd Purgatory

I’m caught between a poem writing frenzy and researching all British things fin de siecle.

I have sunburn on my back.

I’ve been trying to assemble a chapbook. Instead, I’ve assembled, then shuffled the pages out of order, removed poems, added new ones, revised, and then decided I don’t have anything worthy of a chapbook before reconsidering and beginning again. It’s a new process for me.

Also started a new short story containing one scene and a very-limited-to-nonexistent plot.

And am planning a writer retreat. Okay, it’s a Laura retreat. There will be no other writers. I’m going to hide in a B&B for an entire weekend and see what I can accomplish.

Assignments to Myself

I've been thinking about doing this.

Wrote a page of them.

Nothing good.

Kickass

Thank you, Wigleaf, for putting "What I Like About My UPS Man" on your Long Shortlist of 2008. It's an honor.

I owe you a beer.

Only in a call for manuscripts would you find:

"Weirdness is encouraged."

What I'm Reading Right Now

New River Journal

DOGZPLOT

And my work, too. I'm putting it on the treadmill. Don't tell anyone, but I haven't submitted work anywhere in a while. Getting back to it.

Sporting a Purple-Blue Bruise on My Thigh

from Henry the goat’s nasty horn. Trying to feed goats is like yelling “cupcakes” at a five-year-old’s birthday party, supposing that the five-year-olds weigh 100 pounds apiece and they have (visible) sharp horns protruding from their heads. There will be a stampede.

I’ve been reading up on goats and discovered that Henry may end up weighing over 300 lbs when he’s fully grown. But here’s the best part. When he’s in rut, he’s going to grasp his penis in his mouth. That’s what the goat book says, anyway. It also says “yes, he’s that agile” following this disturbing mental image’s announcement.

There’s even a subsection in the book called “Sex in the Goat Yard.” No, I didn’t make that up. My sister and I picked up dinner last night and I spent the car ride regaling her with goat facts. Which is okay, because usually she regales me with boyfriend facts while I interrupt her every 45 seconds or so with fake gagging and heaving noises.

Today, I found a hair in my lunch. It’s okay. It was my hair and I took a shower this morning.

Fog

Not much to say. Discovered I misspelled the word 'toe' in a piece of fiction I submitted. Why does my brain do shit like that? Too busy with non-writing life crap this week. More on that later.