Jess Rowan and I are trying to hijack our own open-mic (the West Wind doodad) and turn it into a get together of local poets, wherein we read our own work and the work of others, hold bookmaking seminars, exchange tips and tricks, build kites inside our bellies, and do all sorts of zany pitter-patter.

If you live in Ashland, I know what you're thinking! "What local poets?!" Ease up, compatriot: there are indeed good poets floating around who aren't gag-ass hippies. I met a few the other week at my friend Ocho's apartment. I shall invite them to our new endeavor. Every Ashlander who reads this is also invited, so don't worry about leaving me yr email addy or anything. Just watch this space for news. We may hold these get-togethers in locales and hours divorced from the ordinary open-mic, so stay vigilant. This blog will comfort you, rock you on the water, row your boat ashore, etc.

In other news, I lost my orange polo at the beginning of summer, and now I lost my sweet-ass "NATIVE SPIRIT" shirt. Get yee back to England, bastard lil' Borrowers.