imaginarycircus

My friend just forwarded me this cool link:

Writer's rooms. I particularly like Seamus Heaney's even though I always imagine him in the Woodberry Poetry room at Harvard, because there is a huge oil portrait of him there. I had a class in that room and I always sat where I could see the portrait. That was also the year I met Heaney through my professor. I think only meeting Tobias Wolff topped that. I was tongue tied and spluttering both times. Go me!

I'm having a better day today. I went to my second "medical massage" which hurt but I can move my shoulders now and my hip stopped clicking so badly. D:

I tried to read a manuscript by an alum from my undergrad (did not attend with her, don't know her) and it was pretty terrible. I really wanted to liked it, but there is no craft, nothing original, no energy, and worst of all no voice. Then I started reading an engaging non-fic ms about a woman whose sister died in Africa the week before Christmas. The sister had been there for two years and was finally coming home when she contracted some terrible disease and slipped into a coma in the middle of nowhere. For Christmas that year her family had to go collect her body. So far the writing is good and I am sucked in.

The main part of David's project ends tomorrow. He stayed in NJ last night because he had so much work to do. I feel like I haven't seen him in weeks. He will have a couple of weeks of wrap up and then we need to pack and move. Where we are going to live? Who knows!?