This weekend, there will be napping.  There will be painting. There will be reading more manuscripts and writing more poems and getting to spend some more time with this little guy (and his sister) before they are off to their permanent home in a couple weeks (Ezra is all mine, but Nimbus & Moxie will be settling in with a friend once she has her apartment by the end of August.) 

Today I was working on some layouts and it occurred to me how, of the manuscripts we publish, that A). they are so ridiculously awesome, and B) that their authors somehow send them to ME of all the amazing presses where they surely could find a home, many more fancified and high profile than dgp will ever be. But send they do, and I'm enormously pleased and grateful that it somehow happens.  that books like these get written and that of all people, I get to bring them into the world.   This week's layouts are some of our more quirky & humorous books for some reason and they are pleasing me to no end, including books by Jeanine Deibel, Irene Mathieu, Cynthia Schwartzberg Edlow, Kassy Lee, and AM Ringwalt.  And this is not even counting the new submissions that I am making my way though, of the accepted books that are still coming down the pipeline in the fall and winter. It's amazing to think that 10 years ago, we were just starting and how much has come about since then.

The week has been longish, and busy, but with good poetry and good sandwiches (it's poor week, so no restaurant lunches this week for me.) I leave you with Miss Moxie and her favorite spot among the fabric shelves.  I leave you with fair weather and hopes that my writing energies are as strong as my editorial ones this week...

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some watercolor experiments....


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Am finally settled back in and getting down to business, most notably, starting to comb through the hefty amount of submissions for next year's chapbook series, which have already topped 300 with over a month to go.  I've already read through about 20 and found a good ten or so worthy of a second reading, and another couple that I accepted immediately. I plan to keep reading and responding in smaller batches throughout the remainder of the reading period. Already, there is so much goodness in there I can tell final decisions will be as tough as they always are. 

Remarkably, we are on schedule (well, moreso than usual) on this years books, so there is still a lot of goodness to come throughout the fall.  I have a couple layouts I am working on this week, and a couple new books ready to hatch.  I am also hoping to catch up on orders and then finish printing lunarium, which is stuck in limbo with no real time to actually finish it up.  I will be mailing that and a couple of other little projects I will soon be unveiling soon out to the zine subscribers as well as making some available in the shop individually. 

With salvage pretty much under wraps, I've started on a new segment of the newer book (#7), which also likely be manifesting as a small zine before the end of the year, and hopefully by the end of the year, I will have the entirely completed and all the p's and q's in place.  These are the apocalypse themed poems, the heart of which is apocalypse theory: a reader, but which branches out into some other things of a similar nature.


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So it is nearing the end of my very much needed week off and amidst the leisurely things like picnics, country weddings, thrifting, and trashy tv viewing, I've made some good headway in getting the new manucript organized and the final poem in the can for ghost landscapes.  I also found new mixing bowls, three cardigans, and a wicker beach bag.  Raided the Swiss Colony outlet for discount cheese and desserts. Swam in too-chilly pool.  Drank two bottles of peach moscato.  Sat outside near a fire pit under the stars.

It's good to get away from daily life and it's demands, even if I'm really not really going anywhere.  I'll have some time off in August for a Wisconsin trip, but this sort of silence is nice, too. A break in the whirlingness. Right now, I'm staving off thoughts of all I need to do when I get back, the book orders to go out, new layouts,  finally printing lunarium, which keeps getting pushed back.  I need some solid time in the studio, which I haven't been able to get in the way I need, and am sort of missing my free mornings (I'm working 11-7 these days at the library, which leaves me only a couple of functioning hours at night unless I go in super early which I do sometimes..)

But summer, inevitably feels like it's slipping away, which means I have only a mere six or seven weeks to cram in as much patio eating, icy drink imbibing, beach romping, outdoorsiness as I can before fall.




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So my weekend has been a little hectic, but today, a bit slower and more my pace.  First there was apartment hunting for a friend in the neighborhood (an endeavor that made me happy that my finding this apartment 14 years ago pretty serendipitously), then yesterday amazing waffles downtown and entire afternoon in the studio.  Today, sleeping in, the much elusive almond croissant and some time to devote to putting the final touches on the new full-length manuscript.  I am finally feeling better and more in control of things and trying not to let summer get bogged down in the details and slip by too quickly.  This week I have a some more work to do and some boring things like vet trips, but then I am off work for an entire week of summer festivities and perhaps a bit of reading and writing.  With salvage in the can, I can turn my attention to the creepy motel manuscript.


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the day after the longest day

The latter half of yesterday was stormy and cloudy and punctuated by a huge fog bank that moved over the city, so the day seemed much shorter than it should have been. But I am still surprised by the earliness of mornings, how soon I wake up at sunrise, even if I just roll back over and burrow under the covers for another few hours.  Most of the weekend has been either making books or napping, but there was also some painting this afternoon, some botanicals I'd been thinking of trying out.  It was foggy again today and a weird diffused light that reminded me more of winter than summer, but I am grateful for the mild weather even still.  A couple more weeks of work and I will be headed away to Rockford for a week that will be filled with 4th of July festivities, a wedding, and hopefully just some quietness.   I've been burning straight through since January without a real break (AWP was a trip, but that was exhausting than my usual routine. )  In the  meantime, there are projects to print and books to release and orders to get out the door.  I have been moving a bit slower since I am not 100 percent on the health front just yet..so there is so much to do..



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So it's been an uneven week, full of  awesome things like tiny kittens and new dresses and not so awesome things like a brutal bout of food poisoning.  But I am on the mend and back at work after a couple of bad days, the worst of which, outside of the intestinal distress, was the tiredness that seemed to sweep over me and knock me out at weird times.  I am working on getting caught up in the studio since I only have about an hour of good solid work in me before the legarthy slides into me like mercury.

But it's been rather mild and temperate in terms of weather, no blistering heat or humidity, which is nice.  The beginning of summer always makes me want to be a child again.  Those camping trips where we slept in tents and told ghost stories around the fire.  The long days in the boat where me and my sister spent our time occupied by coloring books and Archie comics and cap guns and decks of cards.  When the winds off the water, the smell in the neighborhood immediately snaps me back to our all of those Wisconsin weekends. My mother said recently that when we lived in town, they would be out the door on Friday and gone every weekend til Sunday night, either to my grandmother's RV slip at Lake Wisconsin or up to Black River Falls.  There were other places, other camp grounds, many of which I forget the names of.  Even later, we did a lot of camping 45 minutes away or so in Rock Cut State Park, both with a camper and without.

All of those trips seemed like the closest to real vacations, to any sort of letting go of real like drudgery.  Even my mother, who rarely indulged in leisure time would spend hours reading True Story magazines on a trifold chair.   I would hole up in the top bunk of the truck camper with trashy teen novels and a notebook and try to write things.  Despite the work of "roughing"it, it was rather peaceful.
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