Walked into the library just now to check my email, and damn near ran into the dude in charge of the Evergreen student literary magazine. He's a nice guy -- cute in a sweet, librarianish way, only he's entirely bald, and he sort of reminds me of a very young Big Gay John. Freaky.
Actually, I think his name is John.
No relation, I don't think.
When the last issue came out, neither of my two submissions were included. Fuck that shit. I was pissed, until I read the apology in the front cover. Apparently, SOMEBODY in the magazine office LOST 90% of the submissions, apparently including mine. Fuck. So, in lieu of having a nice little pretentious jury decide which submissions were good, they just printed ALL of them -- all the ones they hadn't LOST, at any rate.
So I started a little quarrel with Mini-Big-Gay-John. Not a big quarrel. I made sure we were both smiling, sort of, the whole time we were talking. And he said: "when you make your next submission, write on the cover sheet that we lost your last submissions; that way, if there's any question about who gets in and who doesn't, you'll be higher up on the list."
Ha.
Except I don't NEED that kind of boost. I'll get into the magazine with RAW TALENT.
(This would be a good moment to imagine Helena biting off a huge gulp of beef jerky, while embracing a large cobra around her neck, and wearing something skimpy to accentuate her RAW TALENT...)
Heh.
Right. So that's another thing to add to my to-do list: write a couple of new submissions for this thing.
For some reason, Mini-Big-Gay-John has three bandages on the top of his head. I asked him what happened and he said it was a swimming accident.
WEIRD.
This is going nowhere. Frankly, it seems nothing is going anywhere. Signing off and doing homework now.
~Helena*