K's watching Boston Public and here I am with my blog. I'm gonna go to the store and get something at the deli for dinner. I'm not, like, way excited about that, but oh well you know it's better than Corn Pops.

Last night I looked over the Fact manuscript. I printed out the bulk of it some time ago and put it in a loose leaf binder. Last night I put a divider in and hid in the back the poems I came across that I think don't work. Which wasn't many, really. I like these poems. There are a few more I need to print out. It'd make a respectable book. I just have to get over those I-am-not-worthy feelings. You know, because I wrote it it must be stupid. I wrote the poems nearly ten years ago so when I read them I read the words on paper rather than reinsert myself into the memory of the making, the place, the Glenn-specific emotional history. And I think they're good. Hey. Y'know?