So I was going to write one of those cheeky blog posts where I list and answer questions asked in recent comments, but other than ginsberg asking if I'd left john cusack for john krasinski and some random cyber question about the glory that is my wonky shoulder, I got nothing. It posed a problem for all intents and purposes, until I realized that I can either blog about (1) the fact that my affections for impossible men are fickle (would have left both cusack and krasinski for some cute, appropriately outdoor, guy on the bus tonight--had he shown proper ID and reading list); (2) my shoulder (which really doesn't deserve the cyberspace); or (3) the glories of [fill in the blank]. I kind of get a kick out of option 1, but I think the glories have it tonight.
The Glories of Fob: After my last and, let's be honest, somewhat manic post re: the torture of workshop, I sent my latest project to the hands of Fob. The very next day I received feedback from Theric, and today Edgy and Mr. Fob himself graced my inbox with their comments. All of them said what they were thinking, and everything they said made me think about what I've written in a new way, which is the purpose of workshopping. Yet again, I'm missing these insanely brilliant men (and Arwen) and feel incredibly grateful and humbled that they are willing to read and consider what I've written. (I'm also wishing I had followed them to California or Washington--Chicago doesn't have anything like them.)
Other glories to consider: The Abby Baby, who is following in her mother's footsteps with a love of the outdoors and the Monte Bean Museum. Chicago, which is oddly beautiful in the winter, even if you almost die from the cold (note: I'm going to start carrying my camera everywhere I go--I want you to see this). Yeats, whose poetry is stunning, but is unfortunately stuck in my head, which means I can't write like me right now. And James Galvin and Jay Hopler, for the reading, and the New Pornographers, Swell Season, Joshua Radin, Sara Bareilles, and Ingrid Michaelson, for the listening, to get my rhythms back. Go team.
Oh, and the guy on the bus. He really was that cute.
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2 comments:
Glad to see there is glory in something . . . .
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Tell me about it. You know how much easier my life would be if I had successfully persuaded you to Berkeley? I would probably, oh, have written another novel by now or something.
(Thanks for the opportunity to blame someone--anyone!--other than myself.)
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