Oh, Last Night. Oh, My Heart.

16 Apr

Handsome is one of my besties. He was at VGR in spirit.

– Last night was (obvs) the CHICKLITZ reading at Village Green Records, and my goodness, so many people we love came to support us, and wow, that was just lovely. Having Jill Christman (the spirit animal of CHICKLITZ) introduce us, and love us, and be there was amazing. Moms, sisters, fiancées, friends, professors, and heart-dwellers all shhowed up to stand in our corners! We performed separately, we performed together, we had others perform our pieces (Spencer McNelly is EVERYTHING) and we did it all nervously, but with so much love for everyone else in the room.

That chapbook was beautiful, the girls were gorgeous, and the crowd was full of eye-swelling faces, making me feel some kind of way, you know? There will be pictures soon. I just don’t have any. I brought my camera then got too excited to document much.

– I got my very first rejection yesterday. Yep, right before the reading. I didn’t say anything to the girls because it somehow didn’t seem relevant until now. I didn’t get upset about the rejection. They said they liked my writing, but this story didn’t really work for them. It was a personal rejection. That made me feel better. The best part? I didn’t die like I’d somehow convinced myself I would if I ever received a rejection. Either I’m gaining some confidence in my writing or–wait, no–that’s exactly what it is. I know I’m a good writer. I’ll find a new home for that story.

-Last night I dreamt I found out I was related to Oprah. Like CLOSE related. She was my aunt, or birthmother, or something. She came to hang out with me in Fort Wayne. I took her to Hyde Brothers book store. We browsed for hours, sometimes running to different ends of the store to find one another and read some passage in a book that made our bellies drop to our knees. If she was really impressed, she’d hold the book above her head and yell, “BOOK CLUUUUB!” The smile on her face would be wide and real, and I would not be embarrassed. Not even a little. My birthmother/aunt/muse/fellow-book-lover was giving me something like purpose and I just want to make her smile again. Off in search of the next scalp-blowing passage.

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