Saturday, February 12, 2005


Everything I'm reading apparently has a colon.

Forgot to bring the outline to the office today so I'm working without it, writing from memory. I made up what happens (last summer, sitting on the porch of the old house in Michigan, watching Jeffrey in the garden next door...), but funny I can't remember what happens.

Lunch at the coffeeshop, veggie sandwich and soup. Picking up my Valentine's desert at the gourmet store (dark chocolate loaf with dried cherries). Shopping and dinner in Maryland.

Last night I dreamed that a candidate in the math department was mean to me when she found out I didn't have a "real" book, just a chapbook, and just poems at that. We were standing in the middle of a dirt road; she was half out of a car door, wearing a nightgown.

I remember when the book came out, my parents said, When are you going to write a real book?

But it wasn't a sad dream. No, No, not sad at all. I woke up ready to go there.