Man who can't blog (or whatever your name is), did you go to AWP? And if so, what was it like??
No, I didn't go to AWP. I was home. But I think, even though I was not there, I can tell you exactly what it was like.
It was like this.
For some reason, all these writers spontaneously decided they needed to go to Chicago for some reason. Some flew. Some used the train. Some took buses. Three (an only three) drove cars. Many hitched rides by using their belts to attach themselves to the underside of delivery trucks.
And when all these writers got to Chicago, all these writers decided to check into the Hilton.
That's when someone spiked the drinking water. That's when the whiskey bottles—each of which had been secreted on the person of each of the writers—came out. That's when the laughing gas canisters were attached to the air vents.
That's when all hell broke loose.
When writers attack a city, they begin with the libraries. They grab all the fiction from the shelves and they put it in more prominent spots. They find all the electronics stores, and they break the windows—the ones that have TVs in them—and they tape books to the screens. (They use duct tape.)
They steal all the newspapers from the newspaper vending machines, and they take out black markers, and they cross out most of the words, and they leave the words to poems by John Ashbery and Albert Goldbarth and James Longenbach.
They go into all the bars in the city, and they drink every ounce of liquor and beer and wine the city has to offer. (Seriously. All of it. You couldn't get a beer in Chicago to save your life this week. The bars are all closed. The convenience stores are selling only beef jerky. The alcoholics are all in withdrawal. They are walking back and forth in front of the bars, waiting for the doors to open.
After the drunken writers finished vandalizing the city that welcomed them, they all went back to the Hilton, and they all took naps. Together. In groups of two and three and four. And no one cheated on their spouses or significant others. Writers don't do that. They prefer to cuddle up to each other. No sex was had between two writers in the city of Chicago. Everything was totally on the up and up. There was just a lot of cuddling.
Also, there was dancing. Lousy, lousy, lousy dancing.
And then everyone went home.
That's what AWP was like.
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Today's new Pandora station: The Swell Maps.
The Swell Maps, The Helicopter Spies
Josef K, Endless Soul
The Modern Lovers, She Cracked
Dinosaur Jr., I Live for that Look
The Swell Maps, Bridge Head (Part 9)
Glenn Branca, Ascension
Donner Party, Blue Starch Acid for Baby's New Tooth
My Bloody Valentine, Paint a Rainbow
Sonic Youth, Destroyer (Live 2-1-81)
The Sex Pistols, Pretty Vacant
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Another year, another 5k run for breast cancer research. give if you can. Even just a dollar.
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This is a band called Barbagallo. They are playing Erik Satie pieces.
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UPDATE:
Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen
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Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen
Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen Elizabeth Ellen
4 comments:
I'm glad someone else couldn't make it.
No, that shouldn't read as mean as it does.
I was one of the three who drove. And yes, I think you nailed it.
Yep, I think that's about it right there. I can't think of a single thing in this post that is off the mark.
my name is not even on your blog. how depressing. i guess if i want to be cool like you, the first thing i need to do is learn how to blog. the second thing i need to do is _______. (please fill in the blank, simmons.)i am your student. i am putty in your hands. teach me.
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