As Dave and I stood on the sidewalk outside the studio, a man driving by leaned out his car window to say "Hey you, Fuck you." It was a very intimate and targeted Fuck You.
The proof for a poem of mine that will be on the bus soon (I hope the #12) is up in the window of the studio. Come over and read it. Or take the bus in the coming months - Poetry In Transit!
Two good emails - one from an editor kindly responding to work I submitted to an anthology, and another from a woman who wants me to teach a workshop in the fall.
A few days ago I got an email from Franz Wright, but it wasn't really for me, it was for another poet. I passed it along. Then I ordered one of his books.
This is a week of creative collaboration with the love of my life.
Helen started her new job this morning. She's working for a local magazine - writing, making sales calls, doing office work. One of the greatest sounding "first jobs" ever. She's excited.
Learning lines. My brain likes to twist words and substitute. Bad.
The firemen said hello this morning as I opened the studio. They stand in the truck bays and hold their coffees and stare into the studio all day. They have yet to set foot in here, but they'll eat the cookies I take over to them. Maybe I need to leave a trail of crumbs.