Less than two weeks and the dogpoet will be back with his dog on the Left Coast. For those that have asked, next up is finishing my thesis (that’ll take at least a year) and figuring out how to make rent, which, fortunately, is a fraction of what I’ve been paying here. For those of you asking how I will now make a living, believe me, my father has that question covered. Go ask him, bitches.
Caught Amtrak to visit my stepsister and her husband in their new house in East Boston. I believe they are now what you would call “gentrifiers,” though since it rained the entire time I was there, I couldn’t tell you much about the neighborhood or the city for that matter. But good meals, rain on the skylights, X-Men dvd’s. The simple pleasures of life. Speaking of which, I totally scored when my brother-in-law GAVE me, for free, a Prada leather jacket he acquired through a, well…long, sordid story. Kind of a fell-off-the-back-of-a-truck story which, since I’ve been watching the Sopranos on dvd lately, warms my heart. Those of you who’ve seen me in real life (and yes, I do actually exist) know that “Michael McAllister” and “fashion sense” are rarely used in the same sentence. But I likes to clean up good.
So. Resuscitating this here blog. Code Red. Stat. Eight millions cc’s of epinephrine. Etc. Cleaning up my links list. Thanks to those of you who stubbornly kept me on yours over the past two years. Been pondering my purpose here, now that most of my writing focus is on the book. Less and less comfortable knowing that early versions of some of the book’s material first appeared, and still appear, here, in rough form. Perhaps I should rethink my ambition? Reformat this site? Have a marketable, instantly identifiable web presense? Snort. Like that’s gonna happen.