Welcome To My Bed

New news.

1.  I finally did all the legwork I'm capable of squeezing out for the poetry day.  They're paying me to read things to teenagers.  Somehow, I managed to dig up enough material that isn't either profane or somehow illicit (at least as far as high school administrators are concerned).  As a companion to a presentation that will probably only interest a small fraction of my listeners, I put together a zine with a list of ten quick, painless writing prompts and three alt-poems.  The first is a Mad Libs version of "Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening"; the second is a collage poem about the point of poetry, made with material from John Cage's lecture on nothing and bits of Gertrude Stein's Tender Buttons (revived and revised from a college class on Black Mountain College//yes, I am a painfully serious nerd who should probably be buried in a graduate program somewhere); and finally, a bizarre word cloud thing I wrote the other day called "Quicksilver" that doesn't know what it's doing but seemed like an apt end note for the hand-out.  I'm going to top off the zany antics with a fur hat and a denim vest and maybe some rhinestone glasses so the kids all feel like they have permission to think I'm crazy, thereby getting that conversation out of the way up front.

2.  I am now the poetry editor at Side B Magazine.  I felt pretty dandy when I found out--the kind of blush til you're purple and not respond in conversation when somebody says congrats dandy feeling that often accompanies such things.  Anyway.  We like words and arts and cultural phenomena and under-represented voices.  Among many other fabulous things.  We'd most likely like you.  Submit things (anything, really--there are lots of categories and each has its own handler) and I will love you for your efforts as a pen pal.

3.  I worked a ten hour day on my feet in those awful Dansko clogs that are supposed to be so comfortable and am now certain that clogs of any type should never be stood in for so long.

4.  I have a loyal following of regulars who routinely say my coffees are the best they've ever had.  In spite of my wild barista successes, I have an interview for a real job on Wednesday.  Fingers crossed that the company falls in love with me.  They've already made it known that pink mohawk and face metal are not at all frowned upon.

5.  If all goes according to the fast and loose plan, I'll be a resident of Massachusetts again May 1st.  Giddy at the prospect of living in the same neighborhood as my best friend for the first time since the summer of boat-in-yard, nacho fail, and the curious incident of the disembodied pants haunting our stairwell.