12/26. 1 AM.

Believe it or not, that poem in the previous posting has been quite the comfort to me in the passing days. I finished pressing ten copies of my chapbook tonight and am overcome with a sense of accomplishment. And, I suppose that means that I've officially been able to abandon the poems I've written to move on to the next poems I'm about to write. Something about this is gratifying, but in that gratification that seldom allows you to share it with anyone else. I have come to understand that the only successful time to be an artist is when you are comfortable with the loneliness it brings.

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I have been locked in my office space for about five or six hours right now, and have lost track of time completely.

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Craig and Carolyn are coming to my reading on Wednesday night, and I have this overwhelming feeling that something I will say during the reading will be too self-deprecating for my mother's sake, but too revealing for my father's sake. I am incredibly frightened by their ability to crush me into a pile of crackers without really knowing it. I look down the barrel of this week, and hope that I manage to get myself through it. Once I get over the wall, after Wednesday night, I'll be home-free. Another application to Graduate School needs to be sent out this week, too.

Since the semester began, I have yet to have a real couple of days off. As soon as I finish class for the week, it's off to work. Then, after the weekend of work is done, the exact time where I tell myself "You deserve a drink," I am shoved back into the pile of paperwork and syllabi assignments. I am complaining, I know. A real bag-full of complaints, I am.

At some point this week, I look forward to a nice happy hour at a bar five blocks from this soon-to-be-vacant bedroom with Jake, where I am allowed to comment with absurdity and say nothing intelligent. Sometimes, that kind of lack thereof is gratifying in itself. Thursday will see the Drevlow in his purest form, and the drinks will more than likely be paid for by the department. I will be pleased to welcome a dear friend home, and to liquor him up. That will be infinite.