Happy birthday, Klovharu. The above is a picture of Little Daddy Gibson, on his second birthday. Can you see the family resemblance? Fuck you!That was rude. I apologize. I'm wound up on account of having to prepare a presentation for a class tomorrow. Which I've finished. Preparing. Finally. But it was rough going.
I got some things in the mail. You know how I love Lynda Barry? I got a piece of Lynda Barry artwork for my birthday, but actually long after my birthday for postal reasons. It's an outake from 100 Demons. You can see where she used White-Out on a comma. I'm totally in love with it.
Also, out of the thin blue air, Jacob sent me a copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude. No, I've never read it, but now I will. Wasn't that great of him? Stand up and take a bow, Jacob. Give him a hand, folks.
Can you tell how tired I am? Can you tell how I'm drooping and shuddering despite my gratitude for unexpected packages and completed presentation preparations? I don't know why I'm so goddamn tired.
5 comments:
Go Clairey go! Soon it will be over. Please come over this weekend and play with Sachi.
Also are you coming to Lisa Robertson on Friday?
Yo beeez-nitch! Where you been at?
Sachi - I totally want to come over this weekend, and totally will. As for L.R., I'm almost tempted to go, but I'm kind of CrWr departmented-out. That, and she scares me with her brain smarts. I've already made a fool of myself in front of her once, damn it. Not that she'd remember that (please god), but still.
Kim - I've been locked in a padded room, surrounded by first-drafts and cups of tea. And dog hair. How are things in your woods of the neck?
DAMNIT COME AND CONGRATULATE ME.
I will tell you in an email. A TOP SECRET email.
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