Monday, September 5


Last week, was out of town on assignment (love how important/journalistic that sounds). See, there is always that turn from one week where you do absolutely nothing to another so infernally busy (granted, some deadlines had been long-standing, but that is not the bloody point).

Room with a view. Of a power plant.
So on plate are: revision for fiction class (4,000 words); second essay for nonfiction class (5,000 words); last set of poems for poetry class (5 poems); raket outputs (3 articles); and Youngblood article forced into saying yes to for upcoming Collegian reunion (1,000 words?).

Gah, too many words.

Out of town assignment was interesting. Insisted on hiking up a mountain to make story better and ended up being laughing stock of forest rangers, local cooperative members, or similar, when muddy uphill terrain proved too much for suede shoes and skinny jeans. Shoes can be replaced, jeans, washed, but dignity, sadly, can never be regained (but what about Milton's Paradise? Hm?)

Highlight of my career. Haha.
Assignment, with hours-long land trips, also involved a lot of sitting on ass with Rufus Wainwright blaring in ear and staring into space. Years ago, amid academic drudgery and with absolutely no clue how future would unfold, never thought it would be like this: so much writing, so much words, and never thought would find it, oddly, not as fantastic as pictured in delusion-addled head. For instance, got hold of copy of annual with my feature on Chris Tiu, and felt weird sensation in general gut area. Maybe a case of not knowing that you have it good already? Who knows.

PS. Missed Under the Storm launch last Friday. Now am excited to get complimentary copy from Eva and see all of the signatures she so nicely amassed for self.

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