Haven't you heard the news? adam and eve were jews.

I was supposed to get started on a new tattoo on the old arm this past Monday. My tattooer, Jason, had another idea. Evidently he was surprised to discover that morning that his girlfriend has been the recipient of the aciaint bane of young men and women unawares: the preggers. He called as I was on my way to the shop, cancelled, and together we decided on today, Thursday, being the new tattoo time.
Well, some other freakish event happened today and I didn't get tattooed today either. Preggers, sure, I can understand that. Today I didn't even ask; I figured it really didn't matter much why. Hopefully this will spell g o o d deal if I ever actually get a chance to sit.
In an unrelated note, I've been reading Pablo Neruda lately, but for the first time in Spanish, which has been quite unexpectedly rewarding. Said readings have been out of a dual-language edition, so, if pressed, I'd have to admit to occasional cheats over to the other side of the page, but I am excited, just the same.
Other recent poetry readings have found me returning to Norman Dubie after Matt Fahy borrowed my copy of Ordinary mornings of A coliseum. He brought it back with comment on how freaking crazy it was. In opening it again, I found the same. Just when I felt the end of a phrase coming up, and a line break to confirm that intuition, the next line would be a coup de grace nightmare climax. It's the great kind of crazy, and reading it makes me feel grateful to have studied under him.
I've also been reading Bretall's excerpt of Kierkegaard's Postscript with the intention that if I feel strong after finishing those 55 pages, I may take a crack at the full text. This has been the first attempt at any non-Wittgensteinian philosophy in about a year, and it's really refreshing to be back wading in those hard-fought but worthy waters. Also, I'm taking a graduate seminar on Plato in the fall at University of Arizona, and their philosophy program is phenomenal, so I feel like I better bring my A-game.
Finally, I've cracked into The People of Paper, which, thus far, is both beautiful and relaxing. It is probably the nicest-looking book I own; I'm happy to see the words inside do it justice.
I've been writing a fair amount, trying to build up a hefty-sized satchel full of poems for Tucson in the fall. "They" say that it's a really, really good idea to start out one's MFA with plenty to workshop because not much gets written creatively in that first term. We'll see.