Thoughts on Applying to the MFA in Creative Writing Program at Emerson College

No real thoughts. Happy that it's over and hopefully without too many typos. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, it doesn't, and so I will be forced to seek out hot chicks with tongue rings and chapbooks filled with bad poetry elsewhere.

Seeing Allyson over the holidays has been AWESOME. Al, I don't think you have my blog address, so you'll never, ever see this. Keeping that in mind, I have to say that I cannot thank you enough for your time spent, your seriously wise words, and your unchanging facial expressions regardless of what comes out of my mouth. Also, I don't know how I feel about the hula girls on the cabinets, but the tiki gods? Bring them the fuck on.

Talking to Collin? Also fantastic. Although I feel like my situation pales in comparison to his, although it's safe to say that we both experienced such an unnecessary level of evil fucking deceit that was entirely off the hook. He sounds really, really well. Which is fantastic again. One day soon, I hope to sound like him.

This is strange—journaling in my blog. Just who the fuck do I think I am?

Fucking doormat, that's who.

No comments: