Ah, the week is over and school is out and bring on the turkey. No, bring on the dressing/stuffing. That's my favorite part of the Thanksgiving spread. The rest is fine, but I wouldn't miss it. And I don't eat any more on Thanksgiving than I normally do, so that's not an issue, really. Still, looking forward to it all.
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A lawyer friend spoke to one of my classes today. A bit more intense than usual (job stress), he dropped the word 'shit' a handful of times in an otherwise great talk. I think one girl was a touch offended, but most everyone just snickered. Gah.
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Where has my secret admirer fled? Back into secrecy, it would seem.
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I'm having company over tonight. Amazing. Dinner. My walls are so bare. All these years of living like a pauper, in holes, leaves me with a lot of books, even more movies, but nothing to hang on a wall. I need a decoration budget. And a decorator.
I'm thinking I want to have a few prints of the original Universal monster movies: Frankenstein, the Mummy, Dracula. Since grad school, I've kept some kind of beast on the wall, starting with Godzilla. They've been excellent muses. I think I'll continue.
About Me
- Paul
- Paul Guest is the author of four volumes of poetry and a memoir. His debut, The Resurrection of the Body and the Ruin of the World, was awarded the 2002 New Issues Poetry Prize. His second collection, Notes for My Body Double, was awarded the 2006 Prairie Schooner Book Prize. His third collection, My Index of Slightly Horrifying Knowledge, was published by Ecco Press/HarperCollins in 2008. His fourth collection, Because Everything Is Terrible, was published by Diode Editions. His poems have appeared in Harper's, The Paris Review, Poetry, Tin House, The Kenyon Review, and elsewhere. His memoir, One More Theory About Happiness, was published by Ecco in May 2010 and selected for the Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers Program. The recipient of a 2011 Guggenheim Fellowship and a 2007 Whiting Writers' Award, Guest lives in Charlottesville, Virginia.
7 comments:
What's wrong with saying "shit?"
Nothing, really. But in his amped-up mood it came across a bit too too...
It didn't bother me but you never know how others take it.
Where indeed? For awhile I felt like I was intruding on you and your secret admirer! Sounds like it is Valentine's Day around here, not Thanksgiving...;)
btw. happy T-day.xo
I'm wondering if I know this person, if they're just having fun. Hmm.
You have a secret admirer?! Why didn't I think of that?
Instead, I had to admire out-loud. Doh.
Fled? Me? No. Look down yonder, crush. A poem for a boy who dreamed of flight.
Now, be a dear and cut me a slice of pecan pie.
You are a terrible tease. And I have the pecan pie ready.
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