Thanks.

Woke up to find out I’m a finalist for a Bloggie, for the Lifetime Achievement award. Thanks to those of you who nominated me. It is an honor to be nominated, because with such esteemed company there’s no way in hell I’m winning this thing. But it’s always nice to be flattered first thing in the morning. Continue reading

Check Out My Bowl, Bitches

Dear Pamela,

Ah, yes. I missed you, too.

I’m sorry you will be unable to join us at the 2002 International Society of Poets’ Fall Convention and Symposium in Hollywood, California–the largest and most prestigious poetry event ever held. As you know, you were selected to be honored at this event, and we were looking forward to your presenting your poetic artistry in front of the more than 1900 poets from over 50 countries who will be attending.

Do you really think they got 1900 people to go to this thing? It makes me so sad. Maybe I could crash it — go down to Hollywood and Highland this weekend and look for the large group of weepy beret-wearers, all holding bowls and wearing medallions.

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smelly

it’s not glamourous

Here’s what I haven’t mentioned about Polaroid Stories yet: the set.

The set is a very large chain link fence that divides the playing area in half. Along the back of the set are three large ramps that go from low to high across the wall. They are about three to five feet in the air depending on which part of the incline you are looking at. Behind the audience on one side is a four and a half foot wall that you can climb up to run to the platform which is another four feet in the air. Have I mentioned I’m five foot two? At one point I have to jump off one platform, run around the fence over to the side of the audience with the wall, jump up the wall, run over to the platform, jump onto the platform (but keep my head down because I’d hit the ceiling) and then squat until I can break into a run along the entire wall of elevated three-foot wide platforms.

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