Anatomy of a Dress

At some point, the quantity of Things to be Said outstrips the possible quality of the Saying — this being a blog, therefore not all that genuinely high quality anyway, there’s most definitely a problem there. But that’s a really paltry excuse for leaving you alone so long. I’ll make it up to you, baby. I mean it this time.

Also: ever feel like Facebook (I just typed FAVEbook, natch) siphons off the urge to blog? Here’s the thing. Instead of coalescing the progression of sensations and experiences in my life into a narrative, I just spew pithy one-liners at the internet all day long. I’m sure that there’s going to be some op-ed on this before too long. And then Twitter will destroy facebook, and the length and depth of discourse on the internet will be incrementally crippled — anyway —

Illinois has filled their final poetry spot for next fall and suddenly I am no longer even remotely diverted by the entire application/acceptance process. Which is great timing because since I’ve gotten home from SXSW I’ve been working 6-day work weeks and haven’t had time to give a stray thought to the DRAMA! that is hundreds of writers milling around while their future is decided. The work sitch is a bit of a frustration, since I took this job so I could work 3-day weeks and concentrate on writing, but there’s a discernible upswing in business and this is the first time in years that money (and the lack thereof) hasn’t held me in a terrifying vise, so there’s that. The lease on this apartment is up at the end of the month and could not come at a better moment. Things between J and I, as they disintegrate, are getting wildly unpredictable. So I’ll be starting the process of moving into my old apartment complex — probably into my old apartment, in fact — next week. Large chunks of my free time over the past few weeks have been spent dividing my books into “KEEP”, “STORE”, “MAYBE” and “SELL” piles in anticipation of my move to Alabama at the end of the summer, and the good news is that my books are now almost entirely packed. Which leaves just kitchen stuff, papers, clothes, and some odd bits of furniture. Dis girl doesn’t have much in the way of worldly possessions. I’m also dating a little right now, and it’s very nice but I am working very hard to keep it light and casual because between the working and the moving and the dating I haven’t had time for the WRITING, which is what all this is in service of, no?

Substance to come. For now, this funny exchange in front of the jukebox during a night at the pub last week:

Boss: Okay, who chose this Pet Shop Boys song?

Farren: MEEEEE!

Boss: Why am I NOT surprised.

Farren: I loooooove the Pet Shop Boys! This is my favorite cover! Ever!

Boss: You know who sang this originally, right?

Farren: Uh, yeah, ELVIS.

Boss: Uh, NO. It was —

Farren: Are you about to say Willie Nelson? Because before you do you’re wrong.

Boss: No it’s not! It’s…hang on, I’m going to look it up…

(general clamour in the group)

Farren: And this is the sound of a THOUSAND iPhones being brandished.