There’s a group of about 4 men, possessing a complementary nose for mischief, and they travel together in our “cohort.” Our “cohort” is our group of writers entering the MFA program at the same time. Why is it not a class? I do not know. These men are delightfully rowdy and goofy (they remind me of my youth) and one of them put a picture of himself on his lab wallpaper on these super sexy iMacs in the lab next to where we get our learn on.
I was so amused that I asked if I could take a picture of the picture, and then–ham that he is–he posed with it. So here’s this week’s dose of the metaphysical:
This is a lovely view of the River Walk.
This is a detail from one of the entrances to the YMCA here. Freaking gorgeous, but surrounded on many sides by economic depression. This is a queer little town.
The food and coffee are bad. I am looking forward to cooking again.
Everything else is righteous.
I leave you with a sample of some of the people I might get to have as a mentor and whom I will spend the next 3 years learning to know, like, professionally man. I am the freaking luckiest girl in the world. No, really. They’ve put on readings for us every night, and there are more excellent & successful writers here than it seems prudent to list. Maybe it’s not prudent to list any of them, but I’ve heard every one of the ones below read and I’m telling you now: go buy their books. Delicious.
John Bowers. If you could resist that website you are a better woman than me.
[...] love that my tribe introduces me—sometimes unintentionally—to new writers. I haven’t read this guy—yet—but I [...]
[...] That every other writer feels that way, too. Even writers as excellent as the ones I was lucky enough to meet and to hear read. [...]