We're going to have another 6 inches of snow by tomorrow. I'm getting a little bit irritated by all the snowfall keeping me from going out and getting things done. I'll dodge a few mammoths tomorrow or Saturday and go to the gym and grocery store. I also may post a few pictures from the last blizzard to my Flickr account soon.

Happy to see today that I've been picked up for the Outside Voices anthology project.

Also, I've procrastinated long enough finishing the meme that Sandra tagged me with. Here it is:

The first poem I remember reading was... Dr. Seuss is the most likely culprit here. My favorites were the Zaxes and Too Many Daves (which provides the epigraph for section 1 of my current manuscript).

The first non-children's poem I fell in love with was "Ozymandias." It's still my answer when people ask the unfortunate "What's your favorite poem?" question.

I was forced to memorize numerous poems in school and... the first part of this sentence is inaccurate, as I was not forced to etc. At one point in 7th or 8th grade I had to memorize a poem, and I started memorizing Robert Service's "Dangerous Dan McGrew" because it's fun and definitely has an easy-to-memorize rhyme and rhythm. Then I realized that it was way longer than the amount we were required to memorize (which was only 20 lines or perhaps even less), so I recited one of the little songs from The Lord of the Rings and called it a day.

I have also memorized the prologue to the Canterbury Tales on two separate occasions and can still rip through much of it, though I have no idea anymore how to spell any of the words. Aprille?

I read poetry because... it's kind of hard to be a poet and editor (or at least decent at those things) without doing so. I suppose I gain first and foremost an appreciation for intensified language and sonic/sense (multiple meanings of that word) effects of language. There are many different ways for those things to manifest too, and I think that's reflected in an off-the-top-of-my-head list of favorites: James Wright, Weldon Kees, B. H. Fairchild, Larissa Szporluk, Bob Hicok, Sarah Manguso, Joel Brouwer, Tomas Transtromer, Sarah Lindsay, etc.

I write poetry, but... who the hell cares?

I find poetry... hiding under the bed, stroking a chainsaw, muttering trivia to itself.

The last time I heard poetry... I was listening to my friend Aaron's audio files on the new MiPOesias issue. The last time I heard it live was Harvey Hix's reading at Colorado College in early December. Good poems read a little too far away from the microphone.

I think poetry is like… every other petty subculture of nerds I've ever been part of. I don't particularly mean that as an insult either.

Well, Christmas is gone, and it was a lot of fun, though exhausting. My brother and I got to see the Broncos game on Sunday with our dad and stepmom, and if you follow football you know it was a good game. The experience itself was a blast despite the fact that there was swirling snow for much of the game. On the way home from Denver, we saw a Jeep spin out in front of us while going about 50 MPH on the Interstate. My car, on the other hand, was great. I love my Saturn, I love my Saturn, I love my Saturn.

Yesterday we had Christmas with our mom, and then my brother's girlfriend and daughters came over for dinner. They're cute and precocious kids, even if part of their evening was spent taping things to my head.

My DVD player has been replaced, and I ordered an HDTV off Overstock.com. It's about time I upgraded anyway.