Very difficult to get myself to class, and very difficult to get myself back to work afterwards when it's this nice out. Tulips blooming and the trees filling in with green. Beaches opening and the boats reappearing in the harbors. I've become addicted to Lipton's bottled peach iced tea and crave strawberry ice cream cones. Spring tends to bring wild mood swings--ecstatic one moment and horribly down the next. Last night, very bad commute home. Should have taken the bus, but needed to stop the corner store, so decided I'd take the train. Waited while two trains full of White Sox crowds went past (drunken frat boy types and the girls who pretend to like sports to date them), filled so densely you couldn't get in, finally squeezed onto the second, right inside the door, panicked and had to get off at the next stop, go up the escalator and catch the bus, meanwhile trying not to freak out.
The very springy issue of Wicked Alice is now up. I didn't realize I didn't have that many poets with more than one piece, so we have a greater number and range of contributors than usual. Now I need to get to work on the next chapbook offering (Taylor Graham's Under the Shuttle, Awake)which should be out the end of May.
My poem a day escapade is a day or so off, but I'm not going to worry about the ones I blew off and concentrate on pushing ahead. Tormorrow, an entire day at home ought to spawn something interesting at least. I've been reading Sabrina Orah Marks' The Babies, an interesting prose poem collection with a wacky circus-like feel I can appreciate, and Cate Marvin's Worlds Tallest Disaster.
