In my old age I'm starting to love getting up early. Maybe it was all those months working the 5am shift at Starbucks, making 7:30 seem like sleeping in. Maybe it's sharing a bed with a 9-5er, wanting to get up and have breakfast with him and make him coffee (don't tell the feminists, I'll lose my card), or just that relentless clock-tick reminding me do the most I can with these beautiful, beautiful days. It's rare I sleep past 9 lately, even if I'm out or up late. I wake up with this feeling of endless possibilities. All this will change, I'm sure, when I get a full-time job.
I'm so close to finishing my novel I can taste it like metal in my mouth. Plan: Finish this novel ahead of schedule (in the next few weeks or so). While I'm waiting for it to be shopped around (if my agent takes it, knock on wood), get a full-time job, make some scratch, have some fun, and focus for a while on poetry. Allow next novel a few months to gestate before starting in on it.
Marty McConnel's feature is tonight at the Cantab. I'm psyched. It's nice to be excited about poetry again.