Friday, November 7, 2008

whether the weather be cold. . .

This weather is killing me. Where is the promised November Rain I can sing along to? 80 degrees in November, dang it. The days are hot, the nights are not and my sore throat has no idea what to do with itself.

Sad face for me as one my favorite people in San Diego, Geoff Bouvier, is moving to Iowa. Geoff and I met at the Ink Spot a couple of years ago and he quickly became one of my favorite people. He is a brilliant poet and teacher; someone I can always wax poetic and odd with. I'm super sad to see him go. I need more intelligent and dynamic writer friends in San Diego.

After dinner last night with an editor friend I've decided to swing back into some travel essays I have been sitting on for a couple of years. I have four and think at least two are pretty tight. I have deep love for one about Mexico City. More of prose poetry but I truly dig it.

I also have a secret project in the works that may turn out to be something very special. Now that the chapbook/Halloween/election distractions have passed I am going to concentrate on my brilliant plan of world domination, kind of.

November Rain
Guns n Roses

No comments: