What is puke?

Ovid's getting bigger, and looking more and more like a human being every day, magically looking less&less like a grandpa turtle. I live in a new apartment that is (in)famous in these parts for a bunch of stuff that no one cares about. Everyone pejoratively calls it Melrose Place. You get the idea. Anyway, it's pretty big & cheap & close to the things one'd want to be close to. The shared playlists of everyone's iTunes at Melrose Place is--and I fuck you not, here--worth the price of rent every month. It's seriously like 2gb of the most hipster shit you ever did hear. And the Wondernet's fast enough for everyone to stream the Colbert Report on their MacBooks at the same time, no problem. I sleep on the floor, and don't have a lick in furnishings. 

I miss the academy. I'd like to get a t/t, but with english departments and economics as they are, I have a sick sense that I'll be applying for PhDs sooner rather than later. The problem is that there are really only like five programs I'd be willing to blow five years on, and they're in three disciplines. Four, maybe. Three-and-a-half. 

I'm going to participate in, and win, a barista competition in Austin, Texas on the weekend of November 1. If you're in Austin, let me know. If you're name's Katy Chrisler, let me know. 

It's book contest season. O, you don't know what that is? O, it's like hunting season when you're homeschooled--you send off your shit (book) and pay an application fee and some son of a bitch takes your $25 and skims your book and steals a few of your best lines and then tosses it in the recycle bin. After about $1000 in entry fees, you win a book contest with a $1000 prize and they publish your book and you're then only one book away from a t/t job offer (maybe). 

Next weekend I'm going to be in Tucson (finally). There's a conference on a poet I love and I take things from (not like words but like seepage). I wish I lived in Tucson. I wish I could get a job that's actually good down there. Even to get a bullshit job working with bullshit people down there it pays 30k if you're lucky, and those pastas don't stick if you know what I mean. Up here, though, man--Phoenix is the Balkans of the poet world right now. Tucson is wonderful and I'll be glad to be there and see some friends and hear some decent poetry and hear some semi-decent poets talk about a truly great one. If you've not read him, go find him--he's a good one, especially if you've gone to CBU and weren't exposed to anything past the Beats: he's maybe a good alternate/catch-up/fair-well. 

OK, I'm going to go watch Breathless now. You make me want to puke. What? He said you make him want to puke. What is puke?