A prize to whoever guesses which song the above line is from. It always crack me up.
Reading over the galleys is a strange, strange experience. When the Fed Ex guy handed me the package, I felt a weird, almost light headed feeling, even in my legs. I asked him to open it for me, saving me half an hour of struggle to get it open myself, and dumped out the contents. Letters and the galleys. Rubber-banded. Damn it. So I went and had copies made, spiral bound so I could manage all those pages.
Seeing the poems in galleys, reading the poems from a growing distance, not only temporally but also emotionally, I'm struck by how sad a book it is. Mortally wounded, almost. It's interesting to see how One More Theory About Happiness begins going in other directions.
It's also scary seeing these pages: before very long, it'll be out there in the world. Eek.
Already working on my classes for the fall. Crazy.