I won't be at AWP this year. I'm going to miss these things/ people/ situations:
1. The book fair. The best thing about AWP. All those books and journals. All those editors desperate for attention. All those authors desperate to make a sale.
3. The expensive drinks. The cheap food finds.
4. The sloppy ass kissing by MFA students.
5. The swag.
6. Watching AWP virgins stress out. I'm talking to you, Land Mammal.
7. The terror the surges through my body when someone walks up to me and says, Are you Lorcaloca?
8. The Con Tinta peeps!
9. The dick measuring contests. I won this. She won that. He won what?
10. Watching all the old and ugly male poets hook up with young things.
11. Old teachers.
12. Meeting bloggers for the first time. I'm talking to you, Brent Goodman.
13. [scratch that] I meant to type: The glory. Really.
14. Catching up with all the deadbeats. Those MFA graduates with no awards, no publications, no books. Wait, I have no book. Damn!
15. The terrible dancing.
16. Watching MFA students from piss-small MFA programs talk up Iowa graduates.
17. All the book launches: Ali Stine, Randall Mann.
18. Catching up with old classmates.
19. Kissing drunk poets.
20. Walking past the tables of journals I don't like and sticking out my tongue at the editors. Which journals? Third Coast, Alaska Quarterly Review, The Antioch Review, New Letters...
21. Hanging out with James Allen Hall.
22. Getting ignored by the editors of journals that I love. Which journals? Tin House, American Poetry Review, Crazyhorse, Virginia Quarterly Review...
23. Latino hotties: Jacob Saenz, Paul Martinez Pompa.
24. The endless po-biz talk.