Toot the horn
The semester has come up pretty quick--there's only three weeks left. Less than that. I still have a paper to write and I have to put together a portfolio of the stuff I've worked on in class.

KU-Memphis is going on right now. My TV died last Sunday--I told Robin about it.

"Your ex-boyfriend's TV died."
"Well he's not coming back to get it."
"Yeah. It was covered in dust and I think I fried it--my cable box was acting up and I switched the surge protector on and off."
"Did you unplug and plug it back in?"
"Yeah."
"Did you try different sockets?"
"Yeah"
"Did you hit it?"
"No."
"You should try to hit it."
"Yeah."

It didn't work. I thought this would help with my reading and writing--not having the TV on. I've figured out other distractions. Like the NHL offers free radio broadcasts of games (the only major sports league to do so). I listened to Pens-Rangers last Monday and fell asleep.

I have been reading more--just not a whole lot outside of class reading. Around spring break I made the proclamation that I would try to find new poets. It has not happened. Everytime I'm in the westport Half Price Books I've bought a Bukowski collection I didn't own before--I've finished War All the Time and I'm almost through Dangling in the Tournefortia. Lewis let me borrow Last Night of the Earth Poems.

During Spring Break I sent out to 32 journals--I used Duotrope, a writer's market an MFA student from SIUC recommended to me. I've been rejected by four so far--Crab Orchard Review, the Believer, Slate, and a website called Underground Voices. My goal is to send out to 30 a month. That might be lofty. I got a list for the end of this month too.

I'm headed back to Dayton for a couple weeks in May. I bought a Skybus ticket for about $130. Now that they're bankrupt I hope I get the money back. The Credit Union says they filed a grievance. I'll be driving--I couldn't find a plane ticket as cheap as that one anywhere else. I figure it might be a bit cheaper to drive too--we'll see I guess. The Cougar gets real good gas mileage on the highway and it has a big tank--I maybe put gas in it twice or three times on the way back last time. I've been broke this month--I bought the plane ticket and I spent $101 at Jackson Hewitt to get my taxes done--only to look at my tax documents and figure out I could've fucking done all of this by myself. I've just blown through money quicker than usual. I'm really worried about all this debt and I still need to get another student loan for the summer--I'll be taking some classes. I don't know what the hell I'm doing.

My work finished second in a $200 prize here at UMKC--I made $100 and consideration for publication in our shit student journal, Number One. I guess it's not shit, but I don't like the stuff they published last issue. They seem preoccupied with drug fiction, young people taking them, and shitty relationship stories. Pretty terrible stuff.

My friend Scott won a contest through AWP--he's getting a short story published in Pueblo Del Sol, a kind of big journal. I think we had a couple issues at Nexus. I guess it's drummed up a bit of competition among all the fiction people. The fiction people seem to be a bigger deal. I'm not sure how I stand among the poetry people. Most are women--I'm one of only two guys here and I fill the "white rockstar" role--rockstar in terms of content and my own goofiness. It's a joke my friend Nicole, who won the award for poetry, make a lot. White guy poets have the authority to write about anything apparently. It's something that comes up in class. People from oppressed cultures and genders have a need, or are forced, to write about their experience, to represent their group. White guys don't have to worry about shit. Which is probably why I write epistolaries to John Belushi (well one and I'm still working on it).

I feel like my writing has gotten better--I'm messing with form and punctuation. I still don't feel like I read enough--Scott and Zac read a lot and Lewis reads quite a bit. Nicole knows her shit. I don't as much and I feel like I need to get into more. I'm reaching a point here I don't want to fucking just write out of catharsis--to write as a show off to other people. I'm not sure how to get there yet, and I'm not sure if I'm just over thinking it. I'm becoming more focused I think too--writing some of this makes me worried I'll jinx myself. I write a lot about location, or at least revolving around location.

I'm an idiot.