impending doom report
The menacing AWP dreams are back. I have them all year long, but they step up as the date approaches. The latest involves sharing a hotel room with my dad, Posh Spice and some other guy. We're doing a panel together. We're very late and I'm not even registered. I use Posh's tiny eyebrow scissors to cut the tags off my underwear. Last year before the conference I dreamed the hotel lobby was full of meat, like a butcher shop (or a meat market) and then my legs were knocked from under me. Yep, that about sums my experience.
I have said "maybe" or "yes" to about a trillion readings, panels and book signings at AWP thanks to Facebook. My event calendar is an impossibility and kind of makes me wanna throw up. It goes against nature. Therefore I'll be sending a proxy to every event. That strange woman who says the really freaky thing that sort of frightens you. Know that I sent her and I'm sorry I couldn't be there to do it myself.