Monday, January 3, 2011

back into the pages, glacial

I've started journaling again. On New Year's Day. I'm a snob when it comes to my journaling, I only want to write with certain pens, namely a Micron 05. I have beautiful penmanship and I don't like wasting it on ballpoint pens that aren't water resistant. I only journal on acid-free, archive quality paper. Maybe out of some strange arrogance, that my journals will outlast me. But I don't know if I want anyone reading my journals, ever. My honesty in them is a bit terrifying. I am unmasked. If ever there is a natural disaster my journals are the first thing I'll try to save. Followed by heirlooms. I often think I should make more sort if directive that when I die, my journals are to be buried or burned with me.

A year ago today I left for Key West and was there for the coldest weather they'd had since the 1880s. I was there for the literary seminar, all about poetry. I surrounded by poets; famous, soon to be famous and students like me. I was housed in an old house that was full of other scholarship students. At night we'd cook meals together, smoking on the balconies, talking late into the nights. One of my first evenings I met a woman at a garden party and we chatted for a long while, comfortably. I finally told her my name and she told me hers. Judy Blume. I almost peed myself.

In Key West I met one of my favorite human beings ever, T. I stayed with him the first few nights I was there. He lived in a trailer park on the island just north of KW. His modular home was customized beautifully and he was right on a canal. We'd sit on the dock he'd built, at night with bourbon, in the morning with coffee and talk endlessly. It was one of those rare, easy friendships that are life-changing. He had two sons, brilliant little twins who made me laugh every time we interacted. I miss all of them and waking up on the sofa to two little faces staring at me. I'd love to go back to KW. One day, when it isn't cold. And the first thing I'l eat is a soft-shell crab sandwich from Bo's Fish Wagon.

Working with my manuscript. Lovingly, carefully. I'm a glacier when it comes to change, but when I move I move the entire landscape with me. Also putting together some poems for a chapbook contest. 15 poems, easy. B wants to reprint my old chapbook since I have no more copies. Maybe. I want to move forward with my work this year.

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