Whoops.

Dustin here.

A little follow-up to that last post. I didn't run away from home. I was just playing racquetball with our pal Robert Klick; I'd told Neesh about the plan, but forgot to tell her when, and apparently she didn't notice when I kissed her goodbye and slipped out that morning. That was totally my bad. Next time, I'll leave a note. Sorry for panicking everyone (especially you, Neesh)!

We're at It's a Grind cafe now. Neesh is writing and reading for comps. I'm writing a poem that I hope will make it into tomorrow's update at www.asininepoetry.com. Fun fact: Poetry was like, my specialty while I was in grad school at Southeast; since there was no nonfiction writing program there, it was all poetry and fiction workshops, all the time. So I know my way around a rondeau, but up in these here parts -- especially with only two allotted public readings in five years -- there's really no occasion for one such as me to put that out there. Besides, the poets here got that mess staked out hardcore like the Neil Armstrong's U.S. flag on the moon. They're all, like, yoink. 

But that's okay, because Neesh and I got somethin' in the pipe for the creative types in these parts whose voices maybe aren't getting heard so much. More on that as it develops. I'm stoked about it, though. I can tell you that much. 

Back to the matter at hand before they close and kick us out of here. Peace out until next time, loyal reader.

--D