Wednesday, March 7, 2007

L.O.L., B.R.B., T.T.F.N: A.W.P.

You know what? AWP Atlanta style was fun. Bam, there you go.

I'll post the list of bitchin' books I picked up soon. They all look beautiful, too, so I may scan them for your darling eyes. But don't look too hard, else they might rock your (new england hiking) socks off.

Poetry Presses at AWP that I did not see, but wish I had:

Indie Pork Press
Please Take Your Finger Out of My Baby's Head Press
Intelligent Design? Try Interior Design, Press
Why Do People Keep Calling My Mom Peter Press
Why Does My Mom Keep Responding When People Call Her Peter Press

You can make this happen for me next year. I'll help you apply for non-profit status.




The Images Above Are Of Two Hot Things Happening To Us In The Next Few Days.

One will be awesomely articulate, high-spirited, and well organized. You will walk towards it like a Zombie from the creek. A Zombie Poet.

The other will be awesomely uncomfortable and will involve Southern sweat, which is the shiniest kind (as I've gathered from multiple terrifying ads posted in the subways), and a very anorexic Ricci, chained. Can you guess which is which?

Come to the one involving Fanny Howe reading to you. Truthfully, I'll be doing all of the above. Because I like to put myself in situations that make me re-evaluate my decision-making process.

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