And we're back.

Jury's out on the new interface. Jury's in on Phoenix, Arizona: it stinks. Well, at least Scottsdale does: it's its own planet of the electrified undead, insulated by money in the form of water for fountains and swimming pools. The hostility of the surrounding environment just makes the city itself seem that much more impossible, and not in a glorious Bataillean way a la Las Vegas. Yuck and yuck. One redeeming feature: the kind and clever Matt Shindell, who bravely came to meet Emily and poet Jason Zuzga (getting his MFA at U of A in Tucson) and Jason's friend Robert and I at a ridiculously swank eatery/bar/silicone hangout called AZ 88, sight unseen. He gave me a copy of his beautiful chapbook, Were something to happen it would be both funny and interesting. Jason himself was also a redeeming feature, though as mentioned he doesn't live in Phoenix or anywhere near it; two righteous men do not a city make. I'm sure there are redeeming features; Matt and Jason labored mightily to point out a few. But I'm feeling uncompromising tonight in an Old Testament or Roman or otherwise ancient kind of way: Phoenix delendam esse. Sooner or later the drought will take hold.

Lots of thinking to do now about the Aubergine chapbook. But probably not until I'm done dealing with end-of-semester stuff this week. Please stay tuned.