Ack, been gone for the last two weeks in lovely Michigan, at a lovely writers' conference: a lovely reprieve from real life. Now I'm back and working (with a second job starting this weekend) and I am not a particularly happy camper, except that my girlfriend is driving over right now.
Went through four books during the trip and finished one that I'd already started. Refreshing to be able to read so much. Anyway, I'm off for now.
Went through four books during the trip and finished one that I'd already started. Refreshing to be able to read so much. Anyway, I'm off for now.
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Hmm, beautiful people outside of books. Sometimes I think the only way I can relate to people is through their writing, though I'm always trying otherwise. This conference, was it for your own, or for work/school? I've never known any writers. In fact, I don't think I've ever met one. Hell, I don't think I've ever spoken to one.
I wrote a term paper on "Ballad of the Lonely Masturbator" in second year. That's when I developed a crush on Sexton that lingers to this day.