I got a confirmation number from the Nevada Arts Council the other day so the packet of poems I sent them passed inspection and will be considered for their yearly Artist's Fellowship Grant. Naturally, they will be rejected. That's understood. I'm not bracing myself for disappointment. Well maybe I am a little bit, but it's simply a fact. I don't write the kind of cozy, narrative poetry that is so popular these days. A friend and I submitted work just to keep our hands in the process. Don't worry. I will post the judge's comments, just as I did last year. They were completely negative but entertaining.
We woke up to snow on Saturday. It looked like someone sprayed crumbly white foam on everything but by mid-morning it melted away and I finally got all the plants planted. Because of the cold, the birds in the Bird Park got a big chunk of vegeterian suet (Marvel Meal) and lots of old cereal, peanuts, and endless sunflower seeds. Also, I caught 2 more mice in the humane trap and drove them out to the river to join their relatives, the teaming hoard of other Lelands. I'm approaching the final third of Cryptonomicon and dread the day when I reach the inevitable 918th page and be booted back out into mundane reality. Nothing like a good book, especially after just reading a really shitty one.
And finally, I still haven't finished the epilogue to the Cockroach Diary. I suspect I'm dragging my heels because I don't want to end it but it has. I've got to sort through photos, pick a video or two and polish up the short piece of music I wrote after Delicata died. It will all get done eventually. They lived in a small world with its own time and order so no need to impose a deadline now.
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