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,