Oh, writing at (Ye Olde) Irish pub. They're playing the Irish songs we used to sing at the pub in the good old days of winter quarter. I'm trying to write a stanza or two from the point of view of a swallow (or two). Things are getting absurd.
People keep asking us how we're online here, and I'm afraid we're going to blow our cover and the art gallery that's unknowingly providing free wireless is going to catch on. You'll know why if the blogs stop.
I just want to explain that it may seem like we're procrastinating by blogging, but we're actually working pretty diligently here. It's just important to take a break between drafts, because everything seems like terrific, moving work that will revolutionize poetry while you're working on it closely (at least if you're me... other poets?).
A general request: Yes, the conceit of "the speaker" distinct from the author of a poem is often ridiculous. (Clever UCI poet: "I am--I mean MY speaker is--also in a long distance relationship, so I relate to this poem.") But please don't look anyone straight in the eye and say "I don't understand why you haven't talked to your mother in years" or "and then your parents got divorced and your mother dragged you down the hall." If you do, the other members of the workshop may die of awkwardness.
They're now playing Ye Olde Irishe Punke Rocke, and HenHen's poem is already amazing, so we have to go.
1 comment:
I would like nothing more than to be in the Irish Pubbe with you tapping away on stolen wireless, writing work that will revolutionize poetry. What an amazing summer you are having.
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