Good Things, Times, and Other Rarities

I remember complaining about the cold in Ohio.  The constant chill that never quite made it to the bone, but settled on skin and worked into my hands to slow them.  It’s been an oddly cold few days here.  I don’t think it made it above 55 today.  A familiar feeling and a familiar lethargy.  I spent most of the day watching football and reading and playing mindless games.  I managed to find the time this weekend.

A few weeks ago I was in San Francisco–in fact, to the hour, I was probably in an Indian restaurant in Berkeley.  The Chauffeur and I had just gotten out of a book release party for one of our professors, and we went with him to some of his old haunts around Piedmont and in Berkeley.  Driving up the I-5 that morning was altogether different from my first time.  It was light, for one, and having the Chauffeur there was grand, coming up with jokes to keep ourselves entertained; I’d ripped the stereo out of my car weeks ago.  From top to bottom the weekend in the Bay was grand, and strange.  We stayed in a motel in Oakland where the room was on a slant, the headboard was nailed to the wall, and the cups provided were stolen from an Econolodge.  Outside the motel lot we found an antique phone stowed in a bush, and a man offered to sell me cologne.  The next morning we went into San Francisco proper.  I saw the ocean, the Golden Gate Bridge.  We went to City Lights Bookstore and I loaded up.  We went through my first Chinatown, ate at Nanking.  We went to a circus school and watched the performers train.  That night we went to the Makeout Room in the Mission for the Monthly Rumpus, at which our professor was reading.

San Francisco is as beautiful and strange as you’ve heard.  The hills, though, are steeper.  Parking is insane.  The Chauffeur said he may move their once we’re done with our MFAs.

I had a meeting in LA last week.  I’ll repeat that for the distracted–I had a meeting in LA.  What a ridiculous thing for me to say, but true.  I went and got myself thoroughly attached to the soon-to-launch Los Angeles Review of Books as some kind of Blue-Collar Editor, something like that.  Basically I’ll be focusing on books about the sort of people I grew up with.  I feel that’s only fitting.  A few days after that, CRATE, UCR’s grad magazine, had it’s second meeting.  You recall I’m Editor-in-Chief.  You should submit something.  Then, a few days after that, I had my second meeting with one of our professors about my thesis, the third book.  This is all hush-hush, and completely unofficial, but he’s got agent friends, and he sent some pages around to them.  They like it.  The professor told me it’s not quite ready yet, but will work with me until it is.  We estimate by spring I’ll be able to shop it around for real.  This is the same prof who landed another student an agent already this quarter.  I anticipated good things from him, but not that good.

There’s been some shit, too.  Halloween blew up.  A friend of mine is in a rough way and there’s not much I can do for her.  A while ago I went to see her.  She lives south a ways, far out in the country.  A horse bit me while I was there.  She didn’t do much but cry on my shoulder.  All that had me pretty wore out for a while, and other things, too.

Teaching keeps me busy.  My students are getting better, and some are great already.  I’ve only got one more class to teach, and one of the students suggested I bring in coffee and donuts.  Another suggested they make me a statue.

Next is New Mexico.  I’m picking up Hannah at the airport and we’re hitting I-40 headed east for Taos, where we’ll eat and drink and explore and I’ll be getting a tattoo.  With any luck the whole process will be caught on video, and I’ll be doing a bit with it for the LARB.  Will let you know about that.  I’m sure it’ll be months before I’m back here again, as usual.  Sooner if something gets published.  I love spreading my good cheer.