LOVE STORIES HATE STORIES

When I was in high school I called Valentine's Day "Fake Crappy Love Day." I have no comments to make about that, I just remembered that today.

I co-authored an e-chapbook called LOVE STORIES HATE STORIES, which is available for free today at NAP. You can go read it. I wrote the Hate Stories poems, except for one. And Russ Woods wrote the Love Stories poems, except for one. I'll give you a clue about which Love Stories poem I wrote: it has to do with Abe Lincoln. How is nobody surprised?

Anyway, go read Russ's Love Stories and my Hate Stories, for whatever mood you're in today. And since it's valentine's day, remember to do something with candy today. As if I need an excuse to eat candy all day. Pshaw! I most certainly do not. But I'll take it.

Fat Turky, A Million Hours

I just got back from a weekend in Providence. I could live in that city. I guess I could live in any city, as not much is required of you to be able to live in a city except that you spend the majority of your time there, and you know where the grocery store is, and that sounds simple enough.

I had an interview at Brown for a spot in their MAT program. I don’t usually interview very well, because I usually start accidentally talking about Abraham Lincoln for no reason or something like that. I will know in several weeks about the decision. I’m not stressed out about it, because I know that I will either get in, or I will not get in. There is no unforeseen option.

If you haven’t seen it yet, my infamous poem FAT TURKY is up as bonus material on the Stoked website. It’s the original copy, and you can even see where I erased a lowercase “t” in “Turky” to replace it with an uppercase one, even though the word “fat” is not capitalized in the title. My first grade brain is truly something to behold.

Lots of other things are happening, though most of the time I’m not even certain what those things are. I have a list of projects that I am slowly working through all at once. On my family’s first computer, we had dial up internet, and I downloaded Napster onto it. You could download one song in a few hours. Often, I would download nine or ten songs at once, and it would take a million hours. This is the same way I write. All at once. A million hours.

Brand New Blog Post

I haven't blogged since last year! Yes, I'm sick of hearing and making that joke over and over in different contexts, but I just said it aloud to my husband and since he had to suffer it, so do you.

It's a brand new year, like it is every twelve months, and I get to decide what to do with it. Last year I was newly married, living in a tiny apartment (still in that tiny apartment), blogging and writing and not going to the post office. I'm still doing most of that. Well, all of that, I guess.

Last year I got my chapbook accepted for publication by NAP.

Last year we drove my old car to a buncha places on the east coast.

Last year I lost thirty pounds.

Last year I wrote 250 poems.

Last year I got over 100 rejections.

Last year I became the managing editor of Specter and the poetry editor of Stymie.

Last year I bought the most magical shirt from a thrift store around the block from our apartment.

Last year I chopped down a tree and put that sucker in the living room. (Okay, so Will cut it down and I pushed on it until it toppled over.)

Next year I have all sorts of big plans, and will put down my resolutions here so that I don't mess it up and forget about them. And so that you can point and mock if I abandon them.

1. Get into at least one “top tier” journal.

2. Do at least one poetry reading. (This will be easily accomplished, as I'm reading twice at AWP.)

3. Lose fifteen more pounds. (I think that should do it.)

4. Read fifty two books. (That’s only one per week. I failed hard at my goal for last year, meaning I read like, fifteen books, max.)

5. Run a half marathon. (This is a lofty goal, but I’m registering for one that's not until September. I feel like if I spend the 45 smackers, I'll be more likely to commit to it. I do love money very, very much.)

6. Enter ten writing contests. (I don’t have to win any of them, I just have to try to win them.)

7. Get 100 rejections. (This shouldn’t be hard at all.)

8. Write at least 250 poems. (Last year my goal was to write one a day, and I wrote approximately 250. I’ll strive for that again)

9. Put together another chapbook. (My first one, Ether/Ore, is coming out in April.)

10. Work on my full length manuscript. (It’s being read by one company right now. If they don’t pick it up, I'm going to do some major redecorating.)

11. Miscellaneous. The usual, and some not so usual: make a conscious effort to be happier, stop cutting my own hair because my hairdresser gets mad when I do, take more pictures, write more things down, learn new recipes, exercise once a day, make more things, dress better, all that.

And the resolution I've had since I was twelve or thirteen, which I have yet to do: teach a monkey to smoke.

Pithy Update

I updated the side links for my publications and other cool junk, because I'm important, and because I hadn't done it in many months. Now most of the links actually take you to my work. Not that you'd want to waste your life away reading my poems (CHA RIGHT).

The thing I like about Christmas is that everybody gives me treats, because I am so treatable.

Now I'm going to go chew gum until my brain turns into an ice cube.

Another Calendar Year

Today is my one year anniversary. I don't have anything profound or sappy to say about it. Time doesn't feel any different now that we're married, just better. I don't want to say I can't remember what it's like to not be married; I do. And not being married was okay, too, for a while. And being married is the best.

In the past year, many things have been accomplished.

We purchased and, shortly after, ruined the game Phase Ten.

We broke into our neighbor's apartment on New Year's Eve to watch the ball drop on his TV. Because we don't have TV.

I yelled at Mexican Music Lady, our neighbor, for playing her Spanish polka too loud during the night.

We stole a couch from a neighbor who got evicted and left his couch. I assume he left it because it's a broken piece of crap.

My chapbook, Ether/Ore, was accepted for publication by NAP.

I got a series of parking tickets for leaving my car on the street overnight.

We pulled a few Hank Moody nights.

We played a lot of Settlers of Catan.

I got over 100 rejections.

Anyway, we did a bunch of other stuff, too, but most of it is as boring as most of the stuff I already told you about.

Here's to another calendar year, another year of writing, another year of reading, and another year of marriage. Wherever we end up.

Presents Even I Can Make

So, Christmas is coming up.

Before last weekend, I kept using the phrase "Thanksgiving is coming up," and saying it like Daniel from the movie The Other Sister. Nobody even knew what I was talking about.

Anyway, I'm usually very terrible at thinking up what to get people for Christmas. I thought you might like to tell me some go-to gift ideas that even writers can make (since we're all poor), or gift ideas that are simple but nice. I know mostly everybody likes candles and all that junk. Maybe a book or two.

What are my other writer friends giving people for Christmas? And are you making any of your gifts? I want to see pictures.

OH! And also: check out some of my poems in Camroc Press Review. And order the current issue of Beloit Poetry Journal, because I'm in that, too!

AWP Dreams and Other Updates

Last night I dreamt I accidentally showed up to AWP a week early, but there were all these booths set up anyway. Real dorky guys selling crappy made-at-home comic books. I bought a new outfit and was wearing really classy stuff, guys. Really classy. And I had to meet dorky make-your-own comic book guys instead of, you know, AWPeople.

Rest assured, I will do my best to make it to AWP on schedule in real life, because advance copies of my chapbook, Ether/Ore, will be available for perusal!

Another surprise is that I have a split ebook coming out on Valentine's Day with poet Russ Woods, who is also a librarian, rap aficionado, and co-editor of Red Lightbulbs. If you want to check out the cover of our soon-to-be-book, go here!

The end of the year is coming up and aside from writing my butt off, I'm also eagerly awaiting some rejections to add to the heap, and looking forward to some 2012 publications! Can't wait to see my name in an issue of Beloit Poetry Journal and an issue of RHINO, two publications I respect the hell out of.

Go forth and be merry, eat some turducken, and show up to AWP on time, okay?