I had a poem published in Extract(s) a few weeks ago. It’s called “Apology to the Broken Light Bulb,” and it’s a poem about something I apologized for that I probably shouldn’t have apologized for. I wrote it in, 2010 after having read Christie Ann Reynolds' Revenge Poems. It was the first poem I wrote in about four years, and I’ve been writing/reading poetry relentlessly ever since. It’s the first poem I’ve ever published. So thank you, Christie Ann (for sparking something), and thank you, Chris and Jenn (for your forever).

I don’t really feel the need to apologize about anything anymore, besides maybe being dope as shit.

Today, I’m expecting to hear back from our printer, which means Big Lucks #5 is on its way to my office. It makes me really happy to let this one out. I’m so happy about it that I’ll send out a free copy to the first five people to interact with this post. It’s a little atypical of me to be this self promotional, but it’s actually only because I really want people to read this thing. All of my heroes are in this thing. That’s so nice.

Last week, we participated in the Conversations and Connections Conference. It was the best one yet–Mike and I met a lot of ambitious people, and I think we helped them with either a) their writing; or b) their understanding of the publishing landscape. That’s also nice, I think.
We also had thai food with the Birds, LLC guys, An Tran, and the magnificent Hannah Gamble. I remember very little from this dinner, but I promise–it was amazing.

Sampson Starkweather would remind me of a character actor who doesn’t realize he’s no longer playing a gnarly hippie in some offbeat surfer movie. But Sampson is complicated, because he’s as smart and funny and sweet as the Peanut M&M. He taught me to court my mistakes. I can’t wait to dig into my book.

Keep your eyes on Hannah Gamble. You Dick Drip.

Another thing I did was talk to Donald Dunbar about Mac & Cheese. Hannah Gamble talked to Donald Dunbar about poetry, and he said: “The world had been unknown and full of hassles, but after I accepted who I was it was suddenly my job to order and shape it.” My point here is that I barely know how to talk to poets.

When December rolls around, I fully expect to look back and think that Crapalachia and Tampa were the best two books I read this year. I say this now because they’re the best two books I’ve read since…wow, probably The Awful Possibilities. Both had such brilliant range and depth. I’m still choked up about them.

This has been a rough week for humanity. But it’s also been a perfect one (evidence here and here).