Now, at the end of August, I'm trying to get excited about fall despite how much I hate the impending winter. Despite how soon everything will be dying out and losing it's leaves, and how it all lasts so fucking long. I went to see Skeleton Key on Friday and briefly thought I might want to move to New Orleans (moody, mystical, steamy). Now, five days later, who knows if New Orleans is there at all. God, what a nightmare.
Last night, my reading @ the Cafe went very well. Small turnout of mostly regulars, but awesome nevertheless. This summer has been semi-productive, spent mostly doing a whole lot of revising on the book, making a dent in the dulcet poems, and getting the layout done for the new chap. Plus, a handful of readings and two dgp titles and the wicked alice print annual released. Only five or so entirely new poems to show for three months of laziness, but I plan to buckle down in September.
Friday night, a three rejection sort of day, but including one from Crab Orchard saying I'd made it to the final round and didn't quite make the issue. Somehow, though encouraging, those are almost worse than the impersonal form letter/you never had a chance in hell kind ( the other two were of that variety).