List No. Thirteen

1. Resubmitted poems that had been rejected.

2. Proofread English comp. essays at four a.m. for the girl.

3. Am scrapping together change to go book shopping with Christine.

4. Laundry duty.

5. Finishing Mishima's Confessions of a Mask.

6. Looking for work.

Remember to Floss

While waiting to go to the dentist, I am throwing up a quick blog post.

On February 11, I will be tabling at Coldhearted: A Pre-Valentine's Day Craft and Book Fair with Kimberly Southwick of Gigantic Sequins and Brian Warfield of Turtleneck Press. Details TBA on the Splitleaves site.

Also, Makeout Creek picked up four of my poems, which is kind of exciting. I don't use exclamation points very often, but this would be a good occasion to do so. (!)

Fingers are crossed that I remain in the "No Cavity Club".

Vaya

I have a review of j/j hastain's fabulous we in my Trans up at Galatea Resurrects. Y'all can go read what I think, and find some commentary on great literature to curl up with on cold winter nights.

In other news, LETTERBOX took four of my poems for their forthcoming issue, printing in spring or early summer.

Thursday, the band I cut my teeth on, went out with a bang, playing a great final show in Philadelphia just before the New Year. And now, it seems my other love, At The Drive-In, is reuniting. That sound you just heard was me squealing like a five-year-old girl.

Oh, well.

Splitleaves Press is on permanent hiatus.

My manuscript is not being published due to financial pressure on the publisher.

We'll always have Paris.

Conversation

My friend j/j hastain and I have a new Inherent Fracture up online, a conversation regarding violist Nadia Sirota's album First Things First. You can check it out by clicking on this link here: http://inherentfracture.tumblr.com/

Speaking of j/j, I wrote a blurb for a womb-shaped wormhole (BlazeVOX [books], 2011):

j/j hastain is a seer. Writing from the liminal space between the ethereal and the corporeal, filled with bestiaries of the soul and spine-broken books, hastain has composed "an activist-narrative of place", where the body is but "a fretted tangle" to be worried apart, and then knotted again. Stitched in the language of sinew and fiber, a womb-shaped wormhole is transcendent, stretching past our mere genders, our temporal selves.

I make it a point to only write what I mean, so go buy the damn book, already. You can purchase it through SPD, or directly from the publisher here.

And, speaking of BlazeVOX [books] I may have some news to tell y'all. Or I may not. It's all up in the air. But, I promise, you'll know when I know.