JE N'EN CONNAIS PAS LA FIN

welcome to the seventh (7th) edition of bri embarrasses herself on the internet!  today's topic: misspellings, or, pay no attention to the girl behind the curtain.  if you'll direct your attention to the address in your web browser, you'll notice that i've muddled the u and e in pseudonym.  the sixth grade spelling champ in me would be mortified - that is, if i ever won a spelling bee in junior high. (first round, i was taken out by the difference between aboard and abroad - i think i have some kind of high-pressure dyslexia.) anyway, i apologize, & though i'll fix the spelling at the top of the page, enough of my pitying friends have linked me that i think i'll have to keep this the way it is.  thanks to my friend bri for pointing this one out...no, i'm sorry, that's not some kind of postmodern joke, it's an(other) actual bri. as much as i wish i caught this one myself!

just started raining through my open window - that, or the wind has kicked up the spray from the river right below my building.  i'm back in vermont, in this ridiculous one-bedroom above a coffeeshop named for its address and the indian restaurant that's been feeding me all week (thanks guys, enjoy my summer wages).  came down from ripton, and from bread loaf, last sunday; i have no excuses for not writing in this blog, really, except that every damn entry would read ordered another bbq pizza and ate the whole fucking thing.  my writing is kind of suffering in the same way: i managed to finish a poem i began in june & began putting together my mfa admissions portfolio, but i haven't even found the willpower to pull paper drafts of this summer's poems from my purse and start typing them up.  i think i'm a little worn out.  though i seem to have a whole lot to say about bread loaf - and while most of it is very positive, i'm going to avoid posting events from my life here.  though i will say that ed hirsch was an amazing, caring teacher, and i'm so happy to have worked with him.  and to watch dean young crowdsurf at the first barn dance.  okay, NOW i should probably stop.

anyway.  list of things i forgot to bring with me cross-country: my left green knobbly slipper, all my gustav klimt prints, most of my big slouchy sweaters, nearly every book of poetry i own.  i left deepstep come shining on my bedside table, along with a stack of new yorkers i'd been putting off reading until the boy left for home at the end of july, and right now i'd give significant parts of my anatomy to have them with me.  took a trip to the library, though, & so i've just finished lorrie moore's who will run the frog hospital? and most of robert hass's praise, though i hesitate to say that i've ever finished a book of poems. 

really, i've always been an obsessive re-reader, maybe owing to my being such a fast reader to begin with.  though it does seem disrepectful, ripping through three hundred pages in two hours. all the phrases i inevitably miss, the passages that i burn through on my way to more dialogue, more action (at least when i'm reading a novel), the benefit is that my library is teeming with ideas that i've only half-seen, half-understood.  it's comforting, in a way, like having the same conversation with your best friend, maybe a conversation about a trip you took, maybe about a scene you saw but couldn't hear, and then one day you're talking about it again and suddenly the sound pipes in, in perfect stereo.  i don't know.  i take such painstaking care with my stories (probably because i'm a rubbish fiction writer and need to), and as someone who writes, the thought of someone tearing through my sentences is infuriating -- but as a reader of fiction, it's the only way i operate.

and because blogs (blaahhgs) are supposed to be interactive or whatever, i'm introducing a new feature: random jpegs i save to my computer! (i can see you shivering with excitement. it's okay, let it all out.)  

welcome to my ridiculous expectations for men.  i'm the kind of girl who can't hear the phrase 'cowboy poet' without curling my toes.  maybe it's not such a good thing that i'm back in vermont.