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Please make it stop please please please

Workshop today was a nightmare exercise in trying to appear alert and interested in anything that was going on. I'm still trying to give good critiques, and the stories aren't bad by any means. I'm just so goddamn burned out. I want real food, a real bed, and shitty tv shows. I want to incinerate all the clothes I've worn the past six weeks - I'm sick of them. I'm sure everyone else is sick of them, too. I want my coffee maker. I want dark and stormies at all hours of the day and night, and real Mexican food.

WAAAAAAHHHHHH!

Tonight we have a reading at Archives Book Shop with Holly and Kelly, then I think they hand out some kind of certificate to each of us. I dunno. They're taking photographs. I'm sure the shot of me will be a reeeeeeal keeper. I plan on having Moe the Cat accept my certificate for me. If he refuses and instead hocks up a giant gooey furball, then all I'll have to say is: well played, Moe. Well played.

Tags:

Marine Autumn

I owe you marine autumn
With dankness at its roots
and fog like a grape
and the graceful sun of the country;
and the silent space
in which sorrows lose themselves
and only the bright crown
of joy comes to the surface.

--Pablo Neruda.


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