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2006-02-10, 11:05 a.m.:
In the mail when I returned from Las Vegas: Steve Mueske's Whatever the Story Requires, and Justin Evans' Four Way Stop. More chapbooks, please! Let's trade, let's trade! Mine will be here soon. It looks like it's actually going to work out - I couldn't bear to write about it here if it wasn't - I am going to be working with Lorna Dee Cervantes one on one! Doing an 'independent study.' All because I could not manage to enroll for a course or get in to Elizabeth Robinson's workshop - what strokes of luck these now appear to be. I'm going to see Lorna today and try and weave dangling administrative threads into a meaningful pattern. I hate red tape, especially the university-related kind. Worse than Immigration in Germany, worse than the Arbeitsamt there (from which they always sent you away - you didn't have some or another form, or your paperwork was not in order, or you hadn't pulled a number from the machine in time, or they threw up their hands in disgust because you spoke broken German ... all things I saw happen there many times. Bitcas). Wait, digression. I am going to Boulder to meet Lorna! And we have snow on the ground and poems to read (this also just in: Technicians of the Sacred: A Range of Poetries from Africa, America, Asia, Europe and Oceania. I can't wait to break the thing open) and coffee to drink and life is good. 0 comments
2006-02-01, 4:03 p.m.:
I took two days off from poetry - the writing of it, not the reading - to lose in the ballpark of $20,000 in fake money at Deuces Wild and Blackjack. In obsessive, joyless playing. How can the odds be so durn bad when Blackjack is so much fun to play? Or should that phraseology be backwards? Translation: Even though I lose lose lose lose lose lose lose, I love playing Blackjack. Gives me a buzz. I imagine it's the same doomed frenetic energy that debtors' prisons have been built on since time immemorial. Thank god for no-moula online video poker. A beautiful day in the mountains, in the canyon and in the flatlands. That special light that finds you as you come out of one curve into another on the way up, the way down. Driving back from Boulder it was all blue sky and gauzy cirrus and penetrating sunlight even through the car's windows. And then, at the top - our 'top,' which is to say, not the actual top of anything nearby - I could see a mess of blatant snow clouds over the Continental Divide. I gave them about an hour to get here, home. I was right. I like calling where I live 'snow country.' 1 comments
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