And time yet for a hundred indecisions, / and for a hundred visions and revisions

Today is my day off. Today is the day I put my foot down for. Fought tooth and nail to be relieved from floor duty. And by fought I mean whined. And by whined I mean relied on the kindness of others. And, gods bless them, they the others came through. Working a solid week plus with no reprieve is not unheard of or even out of the question. But my sanity was seeping out through my sinus membrane and I was quickly coming up on the point of no return. After a point that stuff can not be regrown so easily.

So

The day is grey again and I love it sitting and listening to the drizzle. I am washing my comforter. I am offsetting the vague trepidation I always get when washing my comforter by putting Bailey's in my coffee. Because I can. I am fiddling with the syntax of the second to previous syntax while my cat violently shoves a book entitled The Art of Syntax to the floor. I am weighing the logistics of going to AWP 2013 in Boston.

I cannot decide today whether I feel pastoral or confessional or cannibalistic. Maybe all three? Necropastoral, anyone?

There will be time to decide. Well, maybe not that much time. But right this moment, I don't begrudge its passing. And that is the best feeling I never even hoped for.

When in the Windy City... Part I

Ok, so: I am in Chicago!

Just got through my second day of my first (only?) AWP conference, and the third day of my first real visit to my first real US city. And it's a Yankee city at that. I find myself very conscious of my unceasing repetition of "y'all". In any case, having a fantastic time. This semester, as I've mentioned to many a friend and acquaintance, my mission statement seems to be: "act like a 'writer' (actual writing optional)". This weekend is the epitome of that. It has been ALL WORDS, ALL THE TIME. Never before have I made my way through a crowded location and realized that the average topic of discussion is something like the pros and cons of hendecasyllabic meter. It is fantastic and somehow unnerving. Also, I have never seen so many people looking so ostentatiously like "writers" gathered in the same place (yes, this includes me). Also somewhat unnerving.

[Don't actually have a legit picture of this so just insert a generic mental image of the writerly type here]

Thursday, I went to a couple of panels on translating poetry--one more general, one specifically focusing on capturing music in poetry (Ilya Kaminsky was a panelist in the latter, and he was stupendous). Then went to a reading for my friends at smoking glue gun (they just released their super volume 2, check that stuff out!) and OH NO Books. Good times, great poetry, even was on the winning side of a game of pool, which is kind of a big deal for me. After some general car confusion--I would never, ever drive in this city--we made it to another reading at some goth bar. There were some unclear parameters to this one involving scheduling and intimate readings in the bathroom; I never really figured it out, but it was a fun time anyway, with some great names/people/poets there.

Jennifer Tamayo and Lara Glenum

[Add about another hundred or so super blurry pictures of poets and you have the general idea of my camera roll for the night.]

Spent most of my time at the bookfair today--acres and acres of every single press and literary journal that could squeeze a toe in the door. This is where I discovered the most important part of AWP:

SWAG.

So. Much. Stuff. About 75%+ of the stuff pictured above (100% of the non-book stuff) was FREE. People give away their literary journals so you will read their words! How amazing!  Also all the bookmarks, magnets, pins, matchbooks, and a flashdrive. This is not even including all the candy and other consumables they spread out on the tables to lure you over. My favorite: a shot of Jameson from Whiskey Island (yes, that deserves a plug). Also collected a stack probably several inches high of submissions and contest guidelines for various journals, so that's incredibly useful. I fibbed to  lot of the table attendants and told them I did poetry with some dabbling in creative nonfiction, and found out that everybody wants to beef up their creative nonfiction submissions. Also there were/are several upon several panels at the conference on the topic. So that seems like the place to be, I guess. I should look into that. 

PS: Holy Homer! New Orleans is getting a Poetry Brothel! Score!

Well, the rearrival of my gracious hostess is imminent, so I will make this a multi-parter. Too much fun!

I am happy to report that today is a good day to be alive and well and gleaming though exhausted.

This year I have apparently decided to be a yesgirl. I am snapping up opportunities and shenanigans and all manner of other assorted things before the hat even drops from them. Consequences: new experiences, new responsibilities, better social life, and a daunting cumulative bar tab. Less poetry writing, but I am apparently going to about three poetry readings a week so I suppose it evens out. So much mental flailing (some of it feels like thrash dancing), so many beautiful words in one ear and wedged halfway out the other, so many funfab nights barely remembered. I quit my job at the end of last semester so I could knock this last one out of the park.

So far, so good.

NOW time to churn out a poem and perhaps book some plane tickets for AWP (!).