Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

Friday, and the snow is melting apace. Now, I'm not so crazy as to think we are out of the clutches of winter just yet, but I was cheered to see high 50s. My front walk is more than "puddle wonderful"-- it's a slushy lake. So, boots can't quite do the job entirely, and wet socks are a reality. But it's melting! I'm studiously refraining from any direct commentary about all things national and global. Suffice it to say, I'm glad we won't be seeing any more cos-play Barbie outfits for a while. But now, we have an honest-to-goodness cage match fighter. Makes you wonder why the college degrees were necessary sometimes.  There's enough horror, destruction, and degradation to go around. It's hard to know where to look, what to get outraged about, and what to do about anything at all. Gas prices jumped 30 cents in three days around here, and heating oil is ratcheting up. Winter can't end fast enough for me; we just bought another ton of pellet...

Well, I guess I am in the midst of a micro-media-blitz! The announcement about my radio chat dropped yesterday, and in this morning's paper, there's a (shortened/edited) news release about my little book #2. I'll take it. I dislike the sense of blasting out my own whatever-- some weird self-aggrandizement that I honestly don't feel-- so it's good to get the media hype, even this tiny bit. We'll leave it at that for now.  And today, it's neither below zero or snowing at the moment. And it's not even dark. Imagine that.  I'm not yet feeling springing, but yesterday's mid-40s temps melted a lot of snow. The puddles are deep, to be sure. We lost about a foot, including the new layer, by mid-day.  And so it goes. My eyes are healing, I did get a slight cold to go with the ignominy of it all, but the coffee is hot and I'm thinking about breakfast. Eating food at this ungodly hour is a discipline in and of itself, but alas, I must.  Have a good day,...

Y'know, it's pretty darn stressful trying to birth a book amid global and national chaos.  Since Finishing Line Press is a small operation, they have a pre-sales quota that authors must meet in order for them to publish the book, and to be honest, that is the most stressful part of the whole process. I'm trying not to panic; there's still a month until the deadline. And likely, I'll just buy copies to fill out the quota, and sell them locally. But still. It's one little nagging thing, right? Sales are a lot slower this time around, and I hope that people are not just sick of my little poems and they are only clapping politely. (Imposter syndrome rears its ugly head.) And I *hate* reminding folks about the deadline, even though people are so kind and they will probably order a copy-- but sigh, the deadline. Sigh again. ( It's April 3 ) Anyhow, maybe the press release I sent to the papers will get published. And maybe people will listen to the chat on the Nort...

Back to work...about time, eh? I spent a relatively unproductive day yesterday, since I had to be home and limit eye use. I'm still struggling with the light/pain issues, but the meds are helping. I might not stay for writing lab today; that way, I can go home and rest my eyes. We'll see how things go. That all said, I hope you all have a super day. I'll probably have a lot more to write about soon enough.  Oh! One thing: if you have not yet pre-ordered my little book , you can still get it at the discount price and I'll be sending out the broadsides after April 3.  And I'll be on the radio with Nate Alberts on Saturday at noon! You can listen live! I'll be chatting about why we need poetry in our disconnected, difficult world today... and sharing a few poems from the new book, too.  Take care, C

 Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I have to call out sick today. I woke up in the middle of the night with pinkeye. Gross.  So, short note, since my eyes hurt like hell. This is frustrating.  Hold your loved ones close, keep an eye out for everyone else, and please, pray for a break in the misery news out there. C

" Masters of War "-- Bob Dylan Let me ask you one question, is your money that good? Will it buy you forgiveness? Do you think that it could? I think you will find when your death takes its toll All the money you made will never buy back your soul... Please pray for the dead children, the horrified and hurt people who are affected by war.  Please pray for those of us who are scared witless about the future for our own children. Please insist on and act for justice, for rational thought, for humane behavior, for compassion. God help us all. We sure need it. With love to all, but in anger over the situations... C