return, more or less

Had a great workshop, if for nothing but the ego boost. This was the most positive response I've recieved thus far. And with a piece I wasn't totally comfortable with. In discussions with the prof. afterwards, he indicated I'd have no problem getting into an MFA program:"The scene beginning on page 9 is near-perfect".

Enough of that. Reading Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale and finding it inseparable from my dreams, from the videos I watch on the Internet, from the other things I'm reading. I wake up with the sense that I've just survived some tragic, dystopic vignette. I want to sleep twelves hours a day just for my dreams. Just for a sliver of what's going on in there . . .

I think I've exhausted all potentialities, in my head. I'm ready for whatever. Just don't take my basement or my word processor or my weed or my cat or my inspiration. And just don't drag it out: I turn 25 years old next week. The time is now.