Monday, December 7, 2009



1. old fashioned #2 pencils - I don't believe there is anything better than writing with a pencil that actually has to be sharpened. There is something about it that just makes me feel more creative.

2. The sound of the fan as I drift off to sleep...

3. A novel which leaves a lasting impression on me, like Light in August or Skinny Legs and All.

4. Anticipation. I don't know if anticipation about an upcoming event or the event itself is better. Yes I do; the payoff is totally better, but the build-up is so wonderful.

5. Using Faulkner words: lugubrious, braggadocio, effluvium, etc.


1. Monsanto

2. Moving just before Christmas and in the middle of finals - That's right I am tackling 2 large papers, finals, a one-year old, and moving all in one week. Try not to be jealous.

3. People who think that their animals are like their children. Did you give birth to that dog? No you didn't? Then shut up!!

4. Moby Dick - Actually, I just hate Herman Melville in general.

5. The phrase "I know, right!?"

Sunday, December 6, 2009


If you were coming in the fall...

If you were coming in the fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I'd count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen's land.

If certain that when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time's uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

-Emily Dickinson

response to Dickinson

If you were coming in the spring...
After Emily Dickinson
For Nicolas

If you were leaving in the spring,
I'd clutch each winter's day,
Knowing all warmth would be gone
Once the sun comes out to play.

If you would stay her for a year,
I'd trap the months in drawers,
Hiding with them all my fear of
no one's whispers in my ears.

If for one hundred years
You would be here with me,
I'd grasp each fleeting moment
making it lengthy as could be.

After this life has run its course
And thoughts of us decay,
My notions will be of you and me,
And the simplicity of each day.

But now, as I recall your face
And how your laugh did sound,
Those thoughts but goad my mind
flouting as they move 'round.

Lauren Adams