Since I brought back a ton of books from AWP, I am in the middle of reading several at once. Isn't that how all poets and writers read? I have just finished Tasty Other by Katie Manning. I really liked this book and will be writing a review of it but for the moment - just know that I gave it a 5 start rating on Goodreads and I highly recommend it.
I have so much to do since I've been back and I came home feeling a new cold coming on within 24 hours of getting back and I think I'm over it now and finally got my taxes out of the way.
Perhaps for the next few weeks I need to post here just as a matter of self accountability.
Portland is weird. That's what they kept telling us. On signs, On bumper stickers, and there actually is something weird about about being told over and over without asking. It's kind of like Donald Trump saying one of the many things her repeats emphatically without any foundation and no one asked. It makes you a little specious.
I believe I brought home a cold from Portland. I have suffered through an upper respiratory thing that kept reoccurring in January and February. This feels just like it did and I am going to blame it on being among some 13,000 to 14,000 writers, or other miscellaneous people I came in contact with. It's the runny nose, drainage, cough crap that hates me and I hate it. I will not consider this among the SWAG that I brought home.
I have chiropractor tonight and I am going to stop there on the way home before urgent care.
I feel like I have a lot more to say about Portland, but I will save it for later. I'm back, I'm alive, I'm sick.
What good is it to write words that do not feel.
Words must reach out and touch you.
Touch your flesh, your nape, your lips.
Ruffle through your hair.
Fingers across a cheek, a nipple, around an areola over bumps.
Slither down the middle of the back, touch the wrinkles of foreskin,
brush the goosebumps on an arm. If you don't feel the words, what good are they anyway?
This beautiful leather Journal has Southern Pacific railway system map of the San Francisco area etched in it. I love it and it will become a companion to the other beautiful leather Journal I've been carrying for years now.
Two very thoughtful gifts from my wife, Cathy. I now have both volumes of the Letters of Sylvia Plath.
Going into the holiday was kind of rocky as I was ill between Thursday and basically Sunday and part of Monday. My eyes hurt too much to even read so I felt like those were days of waste. But, I'm back and ready to meet life head on.
Michael Allyn Wells - notes & musings