AWP 2012 Made My Shoes Hurt

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Keywords and oft repeated crucial phrasings of the week: hermit walk, cig break, arm wrestle, money wad, whiskey, tubercular cough, crazy dude (he’s still stalking me, Rachel Yoder), poesy fart, skinny tie, love, Geoffrey bag, lap dog, avant pose, death match, proemy, conference girl, hipster smell, word nerd, pretense fatigue, PBR, and hot dog.

Left to right, top to bottom: Survival rations, sticker shock, sundry merchandise, peace keeper, lady luck, Rocky theme, fancy pants, hangover, pit pat.

Four important things learned, confirmed, plus miscellany:

1. If you give stickers to 10,000 writers with instructions to vandalize the toilets of Chicago, they will do it.

2. If you shout into a crowd of writers, “Step right up, folks, first customer to purchase wins a warm can of Miller Lite,” you will immediately make a sale.

3. If you arm wrestle Matt Rowan at the behest of unlikely arm wrestling impresario James Tadd Adcox, you will lose. Christopher Newgent will vouch.

4. You will also lose if you are ever so foolish as to cross my [PANK] coeditor Roxane Gay in a literary death match. Even if she’s lost her voice, fools, don’t do it. If you cross her in general, I will punch you. Then I will get Matt Rowan to punch you.

Misc: Label mate Matt Hart’s new title burns it down; Tim Jones Yelvington remains the fanciest of all known humans; I still crush hard on both Molly Gaudry and Rachel Yoder; my book comes out in August, what; ain’t no groupies like [PANK] groupies; Dan Nester is only 11 years old; and last, but certainly not least, when MC Abby Koski tells you to shut the fuck up, you damn well better listen.

See you fools in Boston, if not before. -Matt