Monday, March 13, 2006

AWP ate my ass...

I am soooooo frickin' sick.

Tuesday, December 13, 2005


I'm in a grumpy, oddly fragile place.

Someone, please-- something?

I call this photo "Uber Tart." Tart being a noun, not an adjective.

Me being the Tart in question.

and here are my eyeballs...

The eyes of Texas are upon You!

Sunday, December 11, 2005

To do...

2. Learn German. Ja.
3. Finish book #4.
4. Find someone to publish book #2.
5. Figure out who I need to fuck to get book #2 published.
6. Sell lots of copies of book #3.
7. Quit fucking worrying about books and just fucking write.
8. Look as hot as Ute Lemper before AWP so when I figure out who I need to fuck to get the book published, they'll be a little more open to the suggestion.
9. Quit fucking saying fuck all the time.
10. Sell chicken cards.
11. Be a better corresponder and fucking answer my emails.

Wednesday, October 05, 2005

Nick Cave decided to go to the Bad Seeds' Halloween Party dressed as James Hetfield...

Sunday, October 02, 2005

Wir gehen nach



We move in March.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Oh yeah...

I took an HIV + crack whore from New Orleans to the HEB last week. She bought ground beef, mayo, and Boone's Farm. I forgot to mention that in my previous litany of activities.


The day after the state of Texas executed Frances Newton...

I got a letter from her in the freaking mail.

I'm not ready to share what she wrote. But I am taking this seriously. For it merits sobriety.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Long time, no Blog...

So. Still no word from Zurich.

New manuscript rejected by yet another publisher.

New manuscript sent to another 2 publishers.

Sonnets come out in three weeks.

Wrote a fuckload of poems in the last month. (And you know what? They're good.)

Got my sweetie's name tattooed inside a big ole heart on my left shoulder. (With FLAMES!)

Been doing hard-core Katrina relief volunteer work.

Have had 3 German lessons and 2 homework assignments (got A's on both, thank you very much-- and that was before I started flirting with my teacher...).

Am having lunch with a for-real big-time New York literary agent next Friday, but that's on behalf of my friend Jane, his client. Jane lives in Chicago and her agent will be in Austin for a conference. Still, I can pretend.

Sent 3 poems to Mslexia this morning.

Want desperately to get published in Britain. Think I might go over better there than here.

Have learned how to say "Free-range Eggs" auf Deutsch (Eire aus Freilandhaltung...)

Have learned how to make umlauts in MS Word.

Went to Seattle. Came back.

Can now put most of my hair into a nearly respectable pony-tail.

Got new red glasses.

And there you have it.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005

Ich kann nichts so gut Deutsche sprechen...

Am Sonntag, wir unser Deutsche Unterricht anfangen.

Unser Lehrer hei├čt "Guido."

Monday, September 05, 2005

Alexandra Palace, 25 August 2005

Set List.

Euro Geeks

Saturday, September 03, 2005


my birthday.

I am 17 X 2 years old. I feel (for better and for worse) 17 X 1 years old.

So, I confered with some poeple and they said it was ok to think that I am 17. Or, rather, believe it. So, there you go.

It's all relative because 3-ish years ago I felt like I was in my mid-forties.

But forget about my stupid birthday.

This hurricane stuff is making me sick. I am really fucking mad at our government and what seems to be their huge failure at doing what they say they are supposed to do, which is protect us. Maybe I am not being fair. If I am not being fair then I apologize.

Like, weren't funds diverted away from re-building that levee or whatever? It wasn't the hurricane, apparently, but the bursting of the dam that done did all the damage.

And I'm fucking mad at myself. Maybe this is obnoxious, entitled, and in its own way, unfeeling, but I post an open apology to the residents of LA and MISS: I am so, so sorry. I did NOT ungerstand how dire your situation was until yesterday. I just didn't get it and I am afraid I was cavalier in my prayers, my offhand comments, and frivolous in my thoughts. I apologize for not realizing the seriousness of this as it unfolded.

Fuck. Would that more was done more quickly.

More than 10,000 feared dead-- is that REALLY possible? REALLY????

And then I'm like, fuck, who cares what I say or feel or think? This isn't about me.

That's right. This is about all of us. That we quit being cavalier. That we treat each other kindly. That we work to do good in the world, in all the ways we can. That we not be deluded that racism is dead. I think I'm going to join the NAACP tomorrow (and I ain't Black, for those of you who don't know). That we remember each other in our prayers. That we remain sober and watchful, all of us. That we respect the power of nature. That we love and fear the Lord. That we inform ourselves. That we know without a damn doubt that there but for the Grace of God goes any of us but that we don't mistake our saftey for God's grace-- so God likes us but not THEM? That makes no sense. That we invoke the presence of God among us with our actions. That we all be prepared, wise virgins and full lamps. Whatever that means. However we mean it. That we reach out to each other and not be afraid. That we accept the hands of our brothers and sisters when they reach out to us and we not be apathetic. That we refrain from saying shit like "life must go on..." Of course it must. And it will. But no one wants to hear that right now. That America humble herself collectively. That we learn compassion BETTER. That we don't call grabbing a loaf of bread out of fear and hunger "looting." That those of us with voices learn to speak up, learn to raise them. That the beauty and fragility of life be revered. We are all so fragile. All of us, so fucking fragile.

In the name of Jesus Christ, that is what I pray. For whatever it's worth.

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Free Frances Newton

Please read THIS. Then act as your conscience accords.

Friday, August 26, 2005

This just in...

...Palmer sent me cover of book and text copy. Fucking beautiful.

I extend an Open Invitation

to the following poets/people for a night of dinner, drinking, dancing, dithyrambing or any other debauchery of their choice if they ever find themselves in the vicinity of Austin or any other city in which I might live. I have whittled this list down to peeps who I do not know personally. Those of you I do know are always welcome to join me in whatever tacky behavior tickles our temperments. You know that.

1. Simon Armitage
2. Amy Gerstler
3. A.E. Stallings
4. Daniel Mark Epstein
5. Neil Astley
6. Mattea Harvey
7. Alessandra Lynch
8. Michael Ryan

Dears, note: This IS NOT a Come-On (except in your case, Simon, Darling. But even then, it's on the harmlessly mild side of playfully intended.. not quite a come on, exactly... maybe a c'mon?). Rather, I have things I would like to talk with each of you about the work you do. I've learned something either instrumental or bad-ass or irrelevantly irreverent from each of you.

This is by no means an exhaustive list, just what comes to my immediate mind.