Milkshakes cold and long

I've been doing some solid reading of late, or at least trying to.

- Two Cole Swensen books. I'm not sure why. If this is what they've been wanting of me then forget it. I wouldn't want it to become me.

- After my little piece in Octopus #9 on Ceravolo, I've been reading others essays on him, two of which are by Ron Silliman, who was kind enough to tell me where to find them. So I recalled both Bernstein's Politics of Poetic Form: Poetry and Public Policy and Silliman's book The New Sentence. In Bernstein, I've ended up reading more of the essays than I was originally planning. Rothenberg's essay is worth a go.

I must admit though, that while I have read and enjoyed these essays, I feel like I'm yet at the point where I can really express these feelings in measurable terms. Does that make sense? I can't really respond to them in a critical sense, I suppose. A fault of my own, I know, and I'm not sure how to fix it.

-I'm on my second read through of Phil Jenks' My First Painting Will Be "The Accuser", which I have been finding of particular interest during my "light poem phase".

There's a level of comfort that has come from the knowledge that I'm definitely taking time off. Since the Fall of 2004, each period has been filled with graduate school applications, either applying or waiting to hear back. And even though each period I generally knew would meet with failure, it still takes a lot out of you.

But I've been happy not being in school in a lot of ways: I'm meeting folks, getting published a bit here and there, and still managing to find time to write and read which I might not have if I were doing something other than what I am doing right now.

I'm whiny, I know, but I'm young too. I remember Sting once saying something how the early twenties are hard because you're so focused on yourself, and it's once you start moving outside of yourself that you can truly expand on any talent you may have.

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