Close Calls With Nonsense

Things that have kept me going this afternoon: the new and fun (groovy, even) Mark Bibbins (his poem “Ending in an Abandoned Month,” a relic of the late Bush administration in some ways, reminds me in others of those new, bare, articulate poems by J. Moxley); several books by Nicholson Baker, of whom perhaps more later (his new novel is a lot of fun, though its claim about Robert Herrick seems to be bogus); the rest of the music of Game Theory, the band whose pop music I would make if I were able to make superb pop music, said “rest” being in my possession only on vinyl until this very week (thanks, MT!); the quick submission of several pieces I’ve been simultaneously at work on, and under contract for, since June (thanks, editors!); a surprise visit from my youngest brother, who is in town for most of the week; the athletic example of Cappie [warning: site plays music]; and, most of all, a new bottle of ibuprofen. If you have a desk, I strongly, strongly recommend you keep such a bottle in it. Otherwise you could lose a whole day.