wish you were here

Another redesign. It was about time, considering the last one was right after I got back from tour last year.

And this time around, I made sure she looked right both in IE and Firefox clothes. Any of you on Netscape, Safari, whatever, let me know if it looks funny. I don’t think it should.

I’m hoping the new design will get me off my ass to post more. I haven’t been posting lately because by the time I should write about something, I don’t want to write about it anymore.

Right now the only relevant thing I have to say is that I’ve been eating a lot. A lot. Take last night, for instance, at a Brazilian steakhouse, where they serve their meat cut off the skewer– starting with chicken. They keep bringing different kinds of meats to your table, cutting off a piece for each person, until you just can’t take it anymore.

There was a post-food coma involved.

I’m working on a redesign of the blog and I have only one thing to say:

YOU ALL NEED TO STOP USING INTERNET EXPLORER AND SWITCH TO FIREFOX.

You people on IE are making it very difficult for me. Stop the insanity.

My Saturday in Flagstaff:

–I got to drive. Away from here.
–I got to see some friends and amazing poetry.
–I got to see snow. Twice.
–I got inspired.
–I got to clear my head.
–I got to meet some good people.
–I did not, however, get good sleep, but that’s the road for you. Even though, to be fair, John Kofonow has a nice couch.

Sometimes living in Vegas makes me feel isolated poetically. Today, going to Rejavanate, I’m not sure if I’m going to be working on any of the ideas I had this weekend, but I’m confident that work will get done. And I feel good about things getting done.

And I have a manuscript to look at, which I’m flattered to read.

Going. Always going.

Except for the occasional writing outing or poetry reading this week, I’m hermiting. I’m cranky and childish right now. I need to get out of town, and have a chance this Saturday to get to Flagstaff, so I’m taking it.

So basically, if I don’t answer the phone, email, or IM, no offence. I don’t feel like explaining myself.

Last night wasn’t perfect. It was nice, but not perfect. People were missed. I may have another soon, sometime next month perhaps.

Though I got a good reading last night. Thank you. It may not have been the most positive thing in the world in the end, but it helped. At least it was about whatever was in my head when I was shuffling.

Not much else. Not right now, anyway.

Tomorrow is a little shindiggy at my crib. I hope you’ll be there, if you’re around. Food and good people.

Unfortunately, there’s a lot of cleaning to be done. And light bulbs to be replaced.

It’ll be good. People are going to be making food in my kitchen. You should too.

It’s spring. Shorts time. Time for everyone to come out of hibernation and remember what we all look like.

I don’t even want to talk about my taxes.

I think I have a new favorite dish, if I don’t fuck it up next time: Chicken Vesuvio.

And, to get myself writing, I read a little from this tonight to get my brain going. I think I’m just going to have to write the same thing over and over again in order to get a breakthrough. Or something.

Actual writing must be done tomorrow.

Hmmm.

I know that’s vague. But that’s it.

I’m going to try to get through Donnie Darko tonight, even if it kills me. Maybe seeing it on the big screen will get me past the first half hour.

Yeah.

In a random fit of nostalgia, I pulled out my old journals and lined them up on my dresser, next to Mom’s ashes. Actually, I went shopping for a new journal today, since the one I’m on now is getting to the finish line. And I think I’m realizing something: goddamn, I have written a lot of crap. There are a few inspired things. But mostly? Crap.

Bah. There’s a book I have to read. It’s mocking me. To bed.