Day three.

In case you wondered, I am not counting a day two.

It was a day wherein administration and other bothers managed to seep through my firmaments.

It was no pocation, that's for sure.

Today was better. If you've followed this blog for a while you know that my beloved cat Schubert passed away in April. I've been sad ever since, and I was very much unready for a new black kitty until now.

Yes, I do have a couple of other kitties. But if you know me you know that I need a black kitty in the house.

So we went to this to see if there might be somebody to help solve that problem.

Now there's a new baby in the house. Ray named her Meg White. We named her Meg White Sheba.

I've been doing some serious decompressing. Today I mowed the lawn and it was triumphant. I hope taking this break changes me somehow.

I have an adorable black kitty to pet now, thank you very much.

Day one.

Day one is not representative of the entire three-week pocation. I never want to think about percentages of time spent cleaning versus percentages of time spent reading and writing. The cleaning always wins, especially when the pocator can't get anything done in a messy house.

So I cleaned the shit out of this place today. And it feels pretty awesome. I am trying to eat mostly things that grow in the ground, and their near relatives, and serendipitously our neighbors gave us a lovely bag of home-grown produce today. This has totally changed my meal plans for the week, but not in a way that involves eating goldfish crackers (do not grow in the ground) or granola bars (ditto), so this is good.

Raymond is learning how to ride a bike. He's a little off today and ended up "getting injured," as he called it. He wanted me to write the below on his band-aid. How could I resist?

This is all the writing I did today. Tomorrow will be better.

Eras and their ends.

I'm moving out. We all are. So long, Bierce Library. The UA Press will now be moving to Quaker Square. I will have an office with a big, scary button on the wall. They tell me it is no longer functional, but maybe if I push it hard enough.

In light of my looming po-cation, today I had to clean out the Press office I inherited from Elton Glaser years ago. It was kind of sad. I was surprised at how quickly we stripped it down.

I left a matchbook in the desk drawer. Elton left it there, and it didn't seem to want to be disturbed. I took several note pads from bookstores that no longer exist, which I also inherited from Elton. See above re: kind of sad.

But I have a bunch of really tasty cherries, so life is still good.

Not sure what this po-cation is going to be like. Earlier in the week I was thinking I might chicken out and maybe not do it. But now I am all for it. Perhaps it's time to make a list. At least a list of books I plan to read.

Oh, and go check out my little interview at The Collagist. Unless you're too busy eating cherries.

On lockdown.

Just like snowflakes, no two summers are exactly the same.

For example, at this time last summer I had written over 40 pages of new poems. This year? 8 pages, and not all of them keepers.

But every summer is different, right? It's not like one snowflake lands on your arm, and another on your hand, and you're like this snowflake is an asshole and this one here is queen perfect.

This year I also decided to get all of my teaching and editorial work done first. Last year I was teaching at this time and wrote first.

I can't help but feel a bit behind / frantic / loserish /craptastic.

My vacation will begin on Friday, 23 July and end on Friday, 13 August (spooky!). It's a poecation, though, not a vacation. I'm not going to vacate anything.

I am also very likely not going to write an entire new book this summer.

I'll just have to put myself on lockdown and see what happens.

We said goodbye to LeBron James and Harvey Pekar this week.

I had the pleasure of driving behind and in front of some of the most ghastly drivers in Northeast Ohio this week.

I was on Verse Daily yesterday. It's been a million years since that happened.

Hoping to go to the shore this weekend. That always inspires me, even if the water isn't exactly clean. Maybe that's what inspires me.

Note how I'm writing as if today is Friday. That may give you a sense of what time is like in Akron, Ohio today.

Go.

Am I the only one out there who really likes trains?

I guess I didn't like them so much when one ran right behind my apartment building, but now I just have a pleasant freight line that runs a block away from home, and the above near-ish to my office.

When I moved to Akron I was struck by the lack of airplanes flying over. Thankfully we have plenty of trains.

I'd miss the background noise.

~*~

I find it a little creepy that I am excited for Fall right now.

I am getting things done. I had a to-do list that was totally obsolete the other day.

4th of July weekend was too perfect to blog about.

Instead I will tell you that it's humid here, and I am a little bit sleepy.

Wrote several new poems this week. Really need to send poems out.

I am reading with Aaron Burch and Michael Dumanis on Thursday at CSU as part of the Imagination conference. Come see us. We will thrill you.

Thursday, July 15
Cleveland State University
5:30 – 7:00, Main Classroom 1st Floor Auditorium
Reading by Aaron Burch, Mary Biddinger & Michael Dumanis

Pre-kaboom.

Hello, July. You didn't exactly sneak up on anyone, did you? It felt like it was June for three months, at least. The hot. The hotter. The rainy mornings. The rainy afternoons. On and on.

I am happy that July is here. If my life were made into a cheesy cartoon starring a number of cute forest animals, this would be the point where we'd stumble upon a clearing, and see something good in the distance, like a lake or a city populated by similar cute forest animals.

Oh, this is not to imply that I am out of the woods.

But I am getting there. I am reading my eyes out. I am finally writing again. I have a little fiction here and some new poems here. I think this might just turn out okay. Fingers crossed.