Picture this

So finally I am uploading a photo. This is from lunch the first day. Next to me on the left are Abby and Debi, my roommates. Linda is next, but you can only see the top of her head. Then there is Shelley Washburn, the program director, followed by Valerie Miner, one of the faculty. I'm not sure who is next. It might be Laura, a poetry student, and then Jon Anderson, from my worshop group. This was taken at the new student table, a thing that only existed at lunch the first day. It's so funny that when it was taken, I didn't know that Valerie and Shelley were at the table with us. I assumed they were students.

Now that I have the camera hooked up, I can take a lot of pictures. In particular, I want to take one of Abby looking like a post-modern Rosie the Riveter.

Yesterday I met with my advisor, Pete Fromm. We had a very good discussion, and my plan was essentially unchanged. This came as a surprise to me, since I really thougt when I wrote it that it was a useless plan. Apparently it wasn't that useless. I like Pete. He's interesting and funny. I think it will be good to work with him. Incidentally, I revealed the underlying plot of my novel to him. It's the first time I've told anyone. He didn't say, this sucks, so I think it's going to be ok.

He tried to talk me out of writing a novel as my thesis project, but I told him I had been working on it for a year and that last summerI had committed myself to finishing it . I said I didn't want to put it aside becase it would drive me crazy. He agreed tat it wasn't good to set a novel aside for too long and said that was why he wasn't pushing me harder to do so. He did say, though, that if after a couple of exchanges, he thought it wasn't going to work, he would tell me.

Yesterday morning I went to a craft talk by David Long, the writer of The Inhabited World. Incidentally, the night before, he gave a reading, along with Ellen Bass, one of the poets that I rode up with. David Long's talk was entitled A Writer is a Reader Moved to Emulation. He said at the outset that it was less a craft talk than a pep talk. He told us all the reasons to read and gave a us a list of his favorite 100 books. I was rather amazed by the book list, which also included a list of books by decade and by foreign country--different books than his favorite hundred. He told us that most of us didn't read enough, that we were not careful enough about the books we chose to read and that we did not read carefully enough. Then he went through each of these and talked about them. For example, the reasons people give why they don't read: lack of time, reluctance to read, and others (tis is off te top of jy head-- I have a list written down.) Then he refuted each of the reasons. Whatever.

Later that day, I went back to my room after meeting with my advisor. I decided to take the elevator because I was tired. I had been running in the morning, because I couldn't remember having unplugged my flat iron. After Mr. Long's talk, I took off running to the dorms carrying my book bag on my shoulder because I only had ten minutes to get to workshop. I ran both ways. Anyway, by the time I headed back to my room that afternoon, it was time for my nap and for once I didn't feel like climbing stairs. So, although my default was the stairs, I called the elevator and climbed in when its doors opened. As the door was sliding shut, I saw through the front glassed in section David Long returning to the building. I held the door for him and when he approached I poked my head out and asked, "Need a ride?" I suppose I am a little star struck by all these well-known writers, but not as starstruck as if they were movie stars. I still remember many years ago when Jeff Daniels walked into the store where I worked. I didn't speak to him and tried to act normal, but I got a metallic taste in my mouth just like when I went upside down on the corkscrew at Cedar Point for the first time. This was not like that. I just admire his writing.

So I ask him what floor and he says four. I am going to three. On the way up, I tell him I enjoyed his talk that morning and I say I was impressed by his book lists (or maybe I said amazed). And really, my favorite hundred books????? I can't even remember reading a hundred books, although I'm sure I have. And actually when looking over his list, I realized that I had read a lot of them, but I could never compile such a list. It was totally impressive. I don't know whether this made him think I was an illiterate idiot or just a socially inept idiot for saying it, but he then said, "I have other lists." His eyebrows wee raised in a way that made me think he felt slightly insulted. So this was a somewhat awkward moment, and right then the elevator arrived at the third floor. I was speechless, which anyone who knows me will wish they had been there to see and mark down as a rare event. I got out of the elevator and looked back at him, opened my mouth to say something--e.g, bye or nice chatting with you, something, but instead no words came out and as the elevator door was about to close, I just walked away. Of course, in the awkwardness of that moment, my brain reset to its default settings, and although I was already on my floor, I started up the stairs. I realized my mistake quickly and thought, "I'll just wait until the elevator door closes and then I'll go back down." But what should happen, but Mr. Long sees me going up stairs and he says, "I'll get off here, too." And he gets out and starts going upstairs. Awkwarder and awkwarder. So, because I really am socially inept (and I'm a writer--what did you expect), I blurt out, "Have I gone crazy? See what happens? I ride in the elevator with you and then I start going to te fourth floor for no reason." I kind of laugh, but David Long doesn't. He just looks down at the floor. I take off down the stairs feeling like a moron.

I'm sure he thinks I'm a stalker now.The only way this will be a good story is if in two years I get to introduce him at a reading.Then I can tell the story in public and he will know I am not a stalker. Obviously I can never speak to him again because if I do he will think he needs a restraining order. Crazy. Probably he doesn't really think I am a stalker. That would be rather pretentious of him. No, he probably thinks I'm an idiot. I don't know which is worse. I think stalkerdom is easier to disprove than idiocy. At any rate, I think I can probably forget ever working with him.

Last night, Pattiann Rogers and John Rember did the faculty readings. I really enjoyed them I wanted to buy Pattiann's book but Linda wanted to go to Safeway, so I had to hurry. I'll buy it tonight and ask her to sign it. John Rember read a new short story which I really liked. I also liked the way he read it best of all the ones I've heard so far. He did a good job of creating characters with his voice and varying the tone and inflection in a way that made it easier to understand what was going on in the story. Those are the best kind of readings in my opinion. As I've said, a bad reading of even the best work is like Chinese water torture.