F**king Lit Party

It's the morning of the fourth full day of residency, the sky is blue, and I'm feeling pretty good. It's around day 3 that everyone begins to feel pretty settled, sliding into the routine of things. And after tonight everyone will be much more relaxed, once we find out which advisor we'll be working with all semester. Fourth semester students, like myself, virtually always get their first choice of advisor, but we still have to list three preferences, which kind of freaks some people out (like me!).

It's difficult to summarize experiences here in Vermont, partly because they're so amazing that no words seem right, and partly because there is so much going on, my brain feels more cluster fucked than usual. But in a good way, because it's cluster fucked with everything poetry.

A few of my friends are staying in a house off campus, and tonight we're having a reading there, with a few students and even some faculty members, aptly named "Fucking Lit Party," and so I have to decide which pieces I want to read...

I have a feeling today will be a long, exhilarating day. The best kind of days.

Also, yesterday I finally had the opportunity to meet the poet Ralph Angel, a faculty member who hasn't been on campus the past few residencies, though I wish he would have! I'd like to have an extra semester so I could work with him. Very, very cool. Read his poem, "The Loneliest Man in The World."

Also, can you believe I haven't taken my camera out of my bag yet? It's interesting, when I'm doing a lot of photography work, I really miss writing. And I get anxious if I don't make time to write. But when I'm focusing on writing... I don't really miss photography. Not in the same way. I think that says something. I should probably take the camera out tonight though, to capture some of the Fucking Lit Party, which is bound to be epic, because the people here are [epic].