Stickybuffalo.com

Am I the only one who feels just a bit like I really ought to be making my way to New York to join protesters on Wall Street, even though I can come up with a number of reasons for failing to do so, which reasons all the same feel uncomfortably like weak excuses?

Would you like some more of my writing?

While acknowledging my own colossal vanity, this still seems like a reasonable question; stop me when I go astray, here. If you’re reading this, after all, then presumably you’re visiting (or perchance subscribed to) stickybuffalo. Which, unless you’re all masochists, presumably indicates that you enjoy visiting stickybuffalo. Which, given that there hasn’t been much here other than my writing for like a year now, presumably means you enjoy my writing.

So here’s an offer. I’ve spent the past months working on a printed booklet project, which will feature my writing, as well as the poetry of a talented collaborator and one-time fellow honors student, plus a bit of photography from both of us. (Hers is really spectacular, believe me.) Almost none of this content, at any rate my share of it, has been or will be published at SB or anywhere else on teh intarweb.

But I will send you a copy, free, if you are interested. Just let me know your address. (I assume that anyone reading this is either a site member, and/or knows how to contact me by other means).

Thanks.

I’m back from Iowa, getting back to work, but… it is hot.

And after a week mostly away from keeping up with the news, I don’t want to go back to paying attention yet. It’s uniformly demoralizing.

Fuck it, then, y’know? I’m sure I’ll be along with something soon enough, but right now, just… no. Go away world.