I'm suffering acute pangs of deprivation because I can't buy Monica Youn's Ignatz yet. Cartoons are looming largely in the essays I'm working on right now, and I'm so curious to see what she's done with one of my favorite characters. I can't afford it at the moment because I just spent all my birthday money on Eula Biss, Sabrina Orah Mark, Tove Jansson, and Evan Lavender-Smith--note: if you write a commonplace book, I will just buy the guts out of it. I will buy it to death. Tuck that away in your mental files.
I came home to an acceptance from Zone 3, which made me very happy because it means that all of the poems in the second section of my manuscript now have homes. They took "Who Has the Whip-Hand over Aimless Animals," which is one of my favorites of that group--fitting that it was the last arm of the octopus to get tucked in.
If you travel to otoliths and read a poem by Ana Božičević called "About Mayakovsky," you will encounter, for the first time, the phrase "weight-of-forest male lard." This is necessary, and you will not regret it. Also, it goes without saying that if you haven't read Stars of the Night Commute yet, you must tiptoe down to the shipyard and steal a copy directly from the boat. It is so, so good; it is truer than the woof of a watchdog.
That Gulf Coast interview that I mentioned a few weeks back is now online!