As Layne has already mentioned, this weekend went smashingly. It was wonderful to get down to Alabama in some warm weather and share the experience of reading with students from all over. Being a young’un, I especially enjoyed the chance to interact with college seniors, those planning to get an MFA and those making other graduate decisions. Also, I learned a lot about getting a job as a professor, which I thought was pretty complicated and fascinating. Matt (Mullins) spoke about his hiring process and both he and Sean (Lovelace) described their post-graduate careers.
All in all, this trip was awesome. The reading at Gorgas House went really well (I had to pee the whole time). And, the subsequent readings were a blast.
Hopefully we’ll be able to get some video up soon.
But, anyways. For my post today, I firstly wanted to thank everyone who donated and supported us for our trip to Slash Pine Festival. You all will be receiving your good stuff in the mail soon if we don’t see you around campus. Next, I wanted to highlight the Chicklitz Chapbook release reading at VGR here in about 2 weeks.
The reading will be April 15th. Originally, we had hoped to do a dance party after but we decided against it. That night is also the same night as Late Nite Carnival (can’t miss this) and the third GAGA NIGHT at Be Here Now. So, we figure, we’ll go to the reading at 7, then we’ll hit up that carnival for an hour or so, and finally we’ll crash Gaga night in our “born this way” finest.
So yeah, and I thought to end up this post, I’d include a poem. It is the poem I chose to make into my broadside and it is also one of the two that I read in Alabama.
The Party Scene
I Love You
There are so many ways to say this—
this failure of words this lisp or a
whisper, it is thin to me like the slip of a
hand into skirt waist band or a malign force
slithering into the porcelain from our throats.
It is the party scene or
I love you and I am holding your hair
already because I know
what your future holds.
Girl. Stop trash talking because
your words will give you indigestion.
I see you by the statue
of our winged school mascot
and you are laughing with someone else
who should know
that you only shave your legs
every third week
and how, once, I collected fifteen
half empty cans of Coke from your room.
She should know that
these things endeared you to me
and I still wish I’d have kept
that doodle of our professor
you made me on a gum wrapper.
We don’t greet each other anymore.
It is all hellohowareyou,
Are you really? Because it is December
and -3 degrees.
Now we are warm and inside
our coats hanging on the back of our chairs
like spies or children;
and I think the lights are
too bright in here or
not dim enough for me
to reach out and pretend I couldn’t see that far.
I wanted to touch you
but you were too close.