I'll be here for a week, on this site — blogging, a first, for me. But where is my body? When I first wrote this, it, I, my body, was in Florida, in the midst of its coldest snap in its history — three-foot long iguanas, I heard, several times, were falling dead from palm trees. When I first wrote this, I'd jumped the gun, started a week early, and I am now revising what I wrote then, since it seems a blog should at least gesture toward immediacy. The town I was in was New Smyrna Beach, though I hadn't yet seen the ocean there (I have since). I'd brought my swimsuit, thinking Florida; I wore a down jacket every day. I was a writer in residence at the Atlantic Center for the Arts, which was, is, beautiful. I was there for a week, and now I'm in Texas, Houston. In Florida I gave my first full reading from my new book, The Ticking Is the Bomb, after having read passages from it, here and there, for the past few years. As I passed through one airport, then another, to get to get there, to Florida, I realized I'd made a terrible mistake — the word "BOMB" is in the title — it will never be on the front table of an airport bookstore.
Here's a link to my newly retooled website: nickflynn.org.
Here's a postcard of an octopus that hangs on my studio wall:
Martin Luther King said, "There's a time to let things happen, and a time to make
Have a good day,
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Nick Flynn is the author of Another Bullshit Night in Suck City, winner of the PEN/Martha Albrand Award, and The Ticking Is the Bomb. He divides his time between Houston, Texas, and Brooklyn, New York.
Books mentioned in this post
Nick Flynn is the author of The Ticking Is the Bomb: A Memoir