AWP 2014 Journals

Three poets (Dan Chelotti, Amanda Nadelberg, and Rosalie Moffett) were asked to describe their AWP experiences in journal form. The result is as follows.

Wednesday, February 26

Moffett 4:00 AM: I dream that I am in gridlock freeway traffic—like, mass evacuation/World War Z traffic. This is the road to AWP. I dream that I open this diary and write 10:30 AM: Shit Show.

Moffett 8:00 AM: I am, in real life, traveling towards AWP. I stand in a packed BART car and look at what others are doing on their phones. One woman is watching an eye shadow tutorial. It is stuck loading. She presses play over and over to no avail.

Moffett 11:00 AM: I board the plane, SFO to SEA. On the way to my seat, I see two writers that I know. My seat-mate is reading The New Yorker. Alaska airlines, usually so forthcoming with the free wine, offers none.

Nadelberg 11:55 AM: Arrived at Oakland International Airport. Spotted woman organizing AWP schedule (laptop) and two or three Stegner fellows. Didn’t say hi. Washed clementine from hands and called best friend who I will see tonight. Waved, fortunately, onto a no-fuss security lane and therefore able to keep my shoes on, my liquids in their bag (inside another bag, I double-bag for safety, I double-knot, too, if you’re wondering) and, if I’d brought a computer, that too. Why bring your computer though, be a person! My horoscope (Aquarius) says I shouldn’t speak in public and I’m on a panel tomorrow. Farnoosh gave me this notebook. On the cover with flowers, translated from the Thai, it says

I’M STILL LOVEING YOU.

The love I have for you still there as usual.

I’ll put my whole heart into it.

Nadelberg 12:20 PM: Thought about tweeting “this plane has surpassed the weight designated for poets” and then didn’t.

Moffett 1:30 PM: The light rail into Seattle is immaculate. (Later, at the conference, I’ll talk with a friend about this phenomenon as we descend the cascade of escalators. I’m used to St. Louis, so to me it’s just not a real train until someone has peed on it, she’ll say.A balding man will turn around and look up at us and ask, What are you talking about? Public shitting, Lizzie will say. He will have a weird glint in his eye and look incredibly pleased. When we reach the bottom of the escalator he’ll say, It’s been very interesting, ladies. Thank you.)

Moffett 1:45 PM: The light rail drops me off right next to the conference center, but I make my way to the 49 bus and take it...