Current Location: michigan, but i live in chitown.
Current Job: arts student. aka: biggest financial drain on the planet.
Favorite Writers: milan kundera, michael chabon, jim harrison, stephen dunn, arthur rimbaud, james tate.
Favorite Books: laughable loves, kundera. the palace thief, ethan canin. wonder boys, michael chabon.
Favorite Movies: lost in translation. high fidelity. the virgin suicides.
Favorite Bands: copeland, elliott, rilo kiley, death cab for cutie, the postal service, the darkness. JOHN FUCKING MAYER.
Favorite Place: duck walk thai on belmont ave in chitown. anywhere with drew miller.
Stupidest thing you did as a kid: had to wear an eyepatch over my left eye to keep my right one from crossing. my dad called me 'pirate'. this is kind of why i hate pirate jokes now.
What do you write (poetry, prose, plays, non-fic, whateverthefuck): poetry (formal etc), nonfiction (memoir, critical, etc), short fiction, screenplays.
Three things you want to do before you die: hold the biggest fucking dinner party to descend on chicago. like LOCUSTS baby. sleep with the lead singer of the weakerthans on multiple occaisions. & i wont lie: be the poet laureate.
Favorite decade? the 40s.
Favorite fashion statement? white fishnets and ruffled black skirts and a bad attitude.
Fill in the blanks:
Let's go to Omaha to work and exploit the booming music scene.
If I had a goat, I'd yodel.
That apple looks like it's in stereo.
What makes you different from the other people in this community? i make the world's best I'LL EAT YOUR FEET face. observe:
What's your best feature? my nose is made of SHEET METAL. um. (lauren: "my nose is made of sheet metal too!" bri: "stop absconding with the applicants!")
What/who is the most important thing/person to you, and why? god, a tossup between drew miller, kate monaghan, kit&lauren, matt humphreys, and zach fucking villa because he reminds me that i'm smart.
One wish and why: feta cheese. that's really it.
What's your biggest accomplishment? being accepted by middlebury.
What's your life's dream? live in florence, write a food&wine column, teach creative writing at a circuit campus, marry an italian stallion.
To what three people/places have you promoted this community?: i'm on it, roger.
Post up to 500 words of a writing sample BY YOU. (We're really serious about hunting you down if you plagiarise, man):
can i just submit a poem? you've all heard it to the point where it means nothing, i know.
After the Snowstorm
Tonight, I collect the things I miss
in small, measured bundles. What I know
hangs from my eyelids in long lists.
Workmen in parkas retrieve downed power lines. I insist
on waiting for you on the porch as the snow
collects. I think about the things I miss:
leaning backwards in your arms. Small kisses
in heavy traffic, or the curved bow
of your lips against my eyelids at night. Those long lists
that I shovel together. They pile in drifts:
making love on picnic tables, short notes you wrote
in a hurried hand. A small collection. How could I miss
the signs of waning love over so short a time? This
may be the last time I wait for you. I am growing
cold; I shut my eyes, breathe on my hands. Do you miss
my warmth beside you at night or the lists
we made of places to travel? Here: throw
them with mine. They collect like the snow
on my eyelashes: the things we miss in ordered rows.