This is not an AWP recap

Maybe you know this already: AWP is the Association of Writers and Writing Programs, and last week/weekend was its annual conference in Chicago. I could spend some time telling you about the panels and readings I went to, but chances are you were one of the 10,000 people there, too. And besides, I still need some time to process. To digest.

Which brings me to: while packing, I removed a sweater from my suitcase so as to make room for a big thing of Cheez-Its. I travel in style. I also devoured Giordano's pizza, a lovely basil/mozz/tomato flatbread sandwich from Cosi (the one chain that has yet to settle in Indy, apparently), and taro, spring rolls, and pad thai at Tamarind. Oh! Also had a pretty great cheeseburger with enormous pickle on the side at Buddy Guy's Legends, where my dearheart friend Sarah was performing, along with other writers who are musicians. Sarah is a co-founder of Octave Magazine. If you are musical, and a writer, then you should send them something.

There were many celebrities at AWP, too many to count. Writing celebrities, that is, which means the gathered throngs of writers were swooning, while US Weekly would have been checking its iPhone or looking over your shoulder while talking to you for more interesting faces. (Actually, writers do that, too.) I did not see movie stars Megan Fox or Shia LaBeouf at AWP, but handily, you can find them in my latest headline poem at Punchnel's: "What Shia LaBeouf Won't Do with Megan Fox."

Is it a continuation of my delusions that I hope somebody manages to get this to MF and SL for their reading pleasure? Have their people call my people. My people are 17 months old and are the boss of me and the rest of the universe. My people will answer the phone if given the chance, yell "HI!", and then hang up/press buttons for as long as allowed. Speaking of, the boss is napping, it's fake spring break (one school's off, one school's on), and I've got to get back to revising. It's going well, I think. It's happening in bits and pieces, fits and starts, dribs and drabs. Name your cliche for piecemeal. It's early March and I've got candy corn and that is excellent revision fuel. Sweet dreams, little lambs.