Crazy busy month for me, always. Usually grading crunch time, when the due dates roll in for all the big paper and project assignments, as well as letter of recommendation writing time, too. Then there's the Sanibel Island Writers Conference, which I missed entirely this year. And in a couple of weeks is the Miami Book Fair International, where I will be reading, and the day before that event is Art Royale, where I am collaborating in an installation/performance with Phil Heubeck, Brittney Brady, and Katelyn Gravel. I'm actually ten times more geeked out about this small, humble event at Art Royale than I'm about MBFI, except that I get to be in Miami and I'll be finally meeting in person the wonderful PoetMom.
And the announcements of not getting an NEA fellowship this year (I haven't seen the winners' list, but I have some friends I'm rooting for in my stead) and not getting a Florida Arts grant (but congratulations to my friend Mia Leonin for getting one for her exquisite poetry). At least in this year's Florida Arts grant I didn't get a really nasty note from one of the panelists as I usually do--maybe my submission was too tepid this year? Alas, no money from the grant heavens, but the gods have been kind to me all the same, and that's probably better for me in the long run.
Also looking forward to my fun classes that I get to teach next semester, including a 21st-century poetry class for my graduate students, and I'll be using books by Kelli Russell Agodon and January Gill O'Neil among other poets I really admire. And I'm also teaching a crazy "performative poetics" class, a poetry workshop in which all the poetry must be written with and against the other arts. So all of that means a bunch of books, thin ones at least, on my nightstand to read. Could be worse than to nod off reading a little Terrance Hayes.