silly billy

So, school is kind of a lot of work. I missed my first graduate workshop last week, which was both a bad first impression and a terrible blow to my pretentions of being a responsible adult. Jane, my workshop leader was really cool about it--I got sent conflicting emails about when the class took place (it's not held on the campus, it's at this poetry resort-type place in downtown Tucson), and I picked the wrong day to go. What probably made it feel worse is that I actually rode my bicycle down to Casa Libre (the place) while my class was having its first meeting to see where it was so I wouldn't have to try and find it and be late the next day when I thought class was happening. I ended up poking around the place and totally saw something going on inside and decided to beat it before I was being stared at like some silly wanker.

My class on Plato's metaphysical development is going a little better than I had imagined it would. My professor held reservations about my ability to take a course, being a non-philosophy grad student and all. Thankfully, so far I have yet to prove total incompetence. I just start to get scared when a bunch of undergraduate philosophical prima donnas start spittin' play and jargon. In an english class it's easy to call them on their use of a big word to compensate for not knowing the actual concept behind it (thanks to Dr. Orr), but in philosophy I just assume they know more than me, and I'm so busy following their argument closely so I don't miss the chance to learn from them that by the time they finish their point I think to myself, "hey, just because the guy has a shaved head, long red (natural) goatee, and thick dorky glasses, or talks slowly (extremely) and should model for the gap, doesn't mean that they've worried about the actual problem that's going on." (I should mention that the class is set up with under/grad lecture on monday, full class discussion wednesday, grad discussion friday.) Whatever, I'm just glad that I'm going to be able to hold my shit together. The thing with graduate school that srikes me most is how similar it is to undergraduate school, which was disappointingly similar to high school. Home school, however, was very different from high school. There definitely is a lot of work, and you actually have to do it all, I think, but you're mostly studying things you're interested in, so you don't have to worry about taking biology 100 or any of that sort of crap. And you can go have drinks with your teacher during office hours, which is pretty good.

A lot of other crazy crap has been going down, especially this past weekend. Most of it isn't worth too much detail, or at least I don't feel like it right now--I'm exhausted. Three little teasers, though, from the weekend: (1) I was at a birthday party for a baby and this dick who was a cop (the boy's uncle) was carrying a glock in the front of his pants the whole party under his t-shirt (who does this shit?) (2) I was walking to get coffee and read me some Plato when I witnessed a motorcyclist get rocked by a car. I was the first person there, it was freaking nuts, and the man lived. (3) I was getting my sleeve worked on and during a smoke break (Jason, not me) a guy came up to us, walking quickly, and he was shiny with sweat and holding a white(ish) bedsheet around his crotch, with nothing else between he and God's green eyes, asking if we wanted to buy some shit. Since we were at a tattoo shop, like eight heavily tattooed dudes had guns out and pointed on this dude before I knew what was going on (I had stubbed my big toe in all the commotion). Pretty silly, but pretty good weekend overall.

The land of wine and honey (and peanut butter)

Man, its 4:00pm and I've just had a glass of wine and a pb and honey sammie inbetween my classes today. School's the best!

In an unrelated note, it has rained every single day we've been in Tucson. Monsoon style, though, so from 2:30-4:30 we're spotty but slightly cooler. Nothing some cowboy boots and a bicycle can't handle.

Back to school.

Good luck all you people going back to school. I was excited about it a few weeks ago, now I'm exhausted and wish it was a few more weeks away. Here's just a little bit more on my arm.

Pima, the place where all the cotton comes from.

So, we're all moved in, mostly. Our house is pretty small, but--and I know this betrays my fatherhood and marriage status--cute. It's rained every day we've been here, even when we've just been visiting. I've been drinking my coffee at Epic Cafe--they have toddy as their iced coffee, and the girls who work there are so ugly that they're practically hot. They're not actually hot--but they're so, so ugly that you keep looking back, thinking, Man, I must have missed something 'cos that girl is really hip, has better-than-average tattoos, awesome hair, and cool glasses--let me take another look... Nope, she's ugly as sin. Lindsey and I were in there this morning, and she said the exact same thing: "I keep looking at that barista over there, just thinking that the next time I do she'll be really beautiful, but every time I look, she's just ugly." I'll try and get a picture up here soon to show all three of you.

I have had two job interviews this week. The job I wanted lost its funding, therefore I didn't get it, which obviously sucks. The second interview went very, very well, but ended up being a glorified secretary job at this literary press. Finally, though--this afternoon hope cracked through with a bitty glisten. It appears that I may have a job teaching English at Pima Community College. It sounds cooler than it will probably be, but I'd be excited about it, and it would be just the type of experience I will kill for in two years when I'm trying to teach at some big silly university.

Matt, enjoy your brother, because there's no chance you'll enjoy Yuma.

Adam, I expect a free Abercrombie hoods-up next time I'm out for a visit.

Paul, are you a father?

Brian, keep a look out for my high school swimming buddy Wiley Wallace at UCSB. He's there for his MFA starting this fall.

I'm lucky if all four of these dudes read this blog, but if anyone else is out there wanting a personalized message, well, as Matt says, You gotta stop lurkin.

Take time in your preparation of coffee and Bob will be with you and bless you and your table.

Tucson is fucking wierd. I mean it.

Hot Dot Above, Tan Man Below

The three of us just came back from the Flagger this evening. It was really nice to see my dad and Matt Fahy. It rained with force all three days, but in true Monsoon fashion, the clouds never lasted more than an hour overhead. A bit longer than normal, just enough to take the edge off the warmer part of the day.

We're still moving on Monday, but we're coming back next weekend for plenty of crap. I hope that this will include a trip to Queen Creek, so, Matt, let us know if you two will be around. This Tuesday I have an interview at Kore Press, which is a boutique literary press that publishes women poets exclusively. They're looking for an assistant to the director, and it just might work out that I will be said assistant. It would be a great job, work-wise--I'd learn tons about the business side of poetry--but I really don't have a clue what the pay is. But, hopefully, somewhere between the teaching job and the Kore job I'll have work that I'm very excited about.

don't fake the funk on a nasty dunk

So I went down to Tucson, again, today to interview for a job teaching at the University. It's outside of the English department, which is nice because if I get it, I'll end up with some extra funding. The job would just be teaching a few sections of this class called "eroticism and love in medieval europe," which I think sounds pretty cool. It's some gen-ed class that every freshman has to take or whatever. I don't really know too much about medieval europe, but according to my potential boss, I don't have to. On top of that, he says I'm actually qualified to do it--I don't know if that's good or bad.
We're moving down Monday, and we can't wait. Couch surfing can be different and fun, but enough is enough! We're going to hit my pops up in Flagger tomorrow, then we'll be back in Tempe Sunday, then down down on Monday.
O. is getting really big. Man, it blows my mind to hear her talk to me. This morning the three of us went for coffee and she goes up to this chick about our age with designer sunglasses and all that, touches her on the knee, looks up to her and is just like, "hellloooo. I get juice with Mommy and Daddy," and I just walking in the door, just waking up, and it's like, holy crap--my kid is having a real, honest-to-goodness conversation with a random grown up. Crazy.
My brother Dan always says, "It's better to have hope in the soul, than soap in the hole."

Ok, guys, here's part of the outline

It's not much, especially after waiting for two months to finally sit, but at least it is going to come out really nicely. I finally sat last night--not for very long, but we're working it out. There will be a blooming agave in my ditch that comes up on my bicep, and three lines from a poem by Pablo Neruda on the inside of my arm. Everything will be black/grey and red. Let me know!