I cannot think of a single "fateful" encounter with a person that I recognized at the time, nor one I remember so clearly that I can describe it later.

Jeez, really? I assume every encounter I have is potentially fateful, at the very least heavily impactive, and then I weed them out later.

I love my memories. I keep them polished and shining and very very sharp. They make me happy, or miserable, but they never bore me and they never let me go hungry.

Say book, say book, say book...

More of a longer, prose-poem fusion thing. I'm putting out a new chapbook in January or so, tentatively called "InBetween Days," and whatever the final product is will end up there.

Okay. That would make me sufficiently happy.

Victor, I absolutely love what I've read so far.

Deb! FFoSM arrived today! I'm glad to see that there are reviews for Plainsong and Eyes in the Fire on the back; maybe that will spur reprints.

I am very very pleased.

I've been asked to participate in a short story anthology series project, agent-repped, which has already drawn bigtime interest from eight - count 'em, eight - mainstream publishing houses.

The theme is a series of short story anthologies, each taking one famous musician-songwriter, and offering up a collection of individual stories based on a given song. I'm submitting one for the official proposal (the artist for that is Johnny Cash), for "Long Black Veil". I think I'm'a gonna do me a really nifty ghost story.

The theme is a series of short story anthologies, each taking one famous musician-songwriter, and offering up a collection of individual stories based on a given song. I'm submitting one for the official proposal (the artist for that is Johnny Cash), for "Long Black Veil". I think I'm'a gonna do me a really nifty ghost story.

Ooooh. This sounds fun.

I'm submitting one for the official proposal (the artist for that is Johnny Cash), for "Long Black Veil". I think I'm'a gonna do me a really nifty ghost story.

GAH! Yum!

Also, talk about a project that's right up your alley.

Congrats, Deb!

I just found out that one of my poems is a semi-finalist in a small poetry contest. Granted, this is really not necessarily saying much--it's an open contest, and I get the feeling it's more about getting the poets to buy the inevitable anthology than it is about talent--but I'm still happy.

Deb, that sounds awesome. Now I want to know what other singer-songwriters have been proposed. Good luck with the story -- you picked a perfect song. And hey, whatever happened to the "four clowns of the apocalypse" story, by the way?

Yay Kristin! (share the poem, share the poem...)

That's good, Kristin. A more personal meaningful encounter:
“I was in a wheelchair for a while,” the guy in the suit says. Oh, fabulous, I think, one of those...that’s what I get for blowing off studying to watch Clinton’s motorcade. Somebody who couldn’t walk for six. Whole. Weeks. So, you know, he understands me. Might as well get this over with. “Really?” I say, hardly caring if I hide my boredom or not. “How long?” “Three years. From nine to twelve. Hemophilia.” Wow, that is an actual story. Much better(or worse) than the racquetball knee I’d expected.” That must have been...hard,” I say,keeping my lifelong vow never to say “You poor thing!” ever. He’s an attorney...his name is something Biblical, James, maybe. He insists that I have to take his “get-close-to-Clinton” ticket. I thank him and resolve never to overlook people’s stories again.