Monthly Archive for April, 2011

SHIPS THAT PASS

I know more than a few people who have expressed their love for the missed connections section of the local Craigslist, and for all of you I will share the project Ships That Pass, “A collection of fake, imagined, and literary missed connections posted to Craigslist and then re-posted here with real responses.” If you’ve ever made extended eye contact at an LCD Soundsystem show, this is the site for you.

I’m driving down to my alma mater today to see George Saunders read and answer questions. (Let me know if you have any Qs that require As.) After that, back up to Austin to see my girl Lindsay read with Dan Boehl. Lots of good readings in town this week. See the Five Things page for more info on each.

My body is angry with me whether I am good or bad to it. It makes me wonder what is goodness, what is badness.

AVOCADO WOMAN

I turned in the final draft of the novel. Now it goes through copy edits and design and through a huge device and will emerge as a book called THREATS in March of the year 2012.

FSG HQ

The house seems quieter. I have the freedom to work on other projects now, write some insane short stories that have been curled up in my spine, but all I want to do is stand silently at the window and watch the manuscript with its friends at the bus stop, trying to ignore me standing at the window, watching it, pressing my nose to the glass, watching.

I found a store yesterday full of bath fizzes and cosmetic products and mud masks and handmade soaps and claims that I will smell exactly like some manner of strawberry milk after bathing in a certain product, or like a bowl of candy corn after putting something in my hair, and none of it makes too much sense but my eyes get a little glazed over and I start putting things in my basket. I tried to interact with the ladies in the store but I had trouble modulating the volume of my voice or forming complete sentences, so excited was I to smell like an avocado at my leisure.

Apropos of nothing: I had a chance to read Heather Palmer’s chapbook Mere Tragedies and I was very charmed by it. There is love and sweetness and funny stuff in there. It felt like eating a piece of ginger. Heather lives in Chicago. The PDF is $1.50 through Girls With Insurance and I recommend it. Heather is a new voice.

DANG

I’m beyond honored to be on the Indie Booksellers’ Choice Award longlist with Grace Krilanovich, Robert Lopez, Eugene Marten, Geroges Perec and more. I’m so proud and happy to play my small part in the vibrant, passionate independent bookseller world, which is so full of people who care deeply about writers and readers and books.

Also, please find Vol 1. of the What is Experimental Literature? project with Chris Higgs, which is becoming the first of a series I can’t wait to read.

I had an excellent past week, well worth this chest cold deal I’ve got going on today. The NYC trip was constant movement, both alone and alongside dear friends. I met my goal of coffee and pie with Sasha and Skyler, wine with Emily and Claudia and a few good, windy walks with Ryan. I signed a contract and went to two parties and met new friends Alex and Jayson and Ben and felt tempted for the first time to move to a city that has otherwise freaked me out for over ten years.

Then, I flew home, sat at my desk for half an hour and made the drive to Houston, where I met up with Adam and Tim and Gene and Jenny, and read at the good-time Houston Indie Book Festival. It was nice and warm and there was a hammock and I felt at peace and declared that I will never move away from the South.

(I’m feeling a little conflicted.)

Now I’m home-again home-again, eating tapioca and finally baking that loaf of bread I’ve been threatening to bake for weeks, getting back to the draft, making a grocery list, experiencing chest congestion, figuring stuff out, continuing correspondence, looking for a good yoga class &c.




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