hell and poetry prizes

I received a phone call today to say I’m a finalist in a fellowship which involves a fairly large sum of money. I’m sure I am jinxing it by writing it here but what the heck---it’s the first writing news I’ve had in ages so I’m marking it down.

I don’t know how I feel about being notified before the judges have made their decision. This has happened once before and I ended up taking second place, which instead of causing me great joy, made me crawl under my blankets and eat crackers in the dark for two days. It also made me sort of a stalker of the first place winner for like two weeks.

Truth: if I really want to punish myself I call up her bio and read her recent awards. She is single with a writing studio. I am pitiful and it took me a half hour to find a pen this morning.

Side note: E once asked me while we were semi quasi dating what kind of writer I wanted to be and I answered simply I want to be the greatest writer in my generation. I assumed it was my calling. I don’t feel like that anymore. I would be happy with a short story collection and a poetry book that isn’t featured in the used books table.

Sometimes I miss the arrogance of that woman before though I am sure E does not.

Another side note: I was thinking yesterday about heaven and hell existing on a linear plane. What if the philosophers and theologians had it all wrong? What if instead of evolving into a greater enlightenment we are actually digressing?

Children believe they can be anything, hell they can be six things at the same time: a firefighter, a doctor, a rock star. But as we grow old we are constantly surrounded by our limitations. We are the same person we are as children and yet we are less.

What if heaven is our beginning and hell is our end. Hell is the basic fact that the clock stops and we no longer exist. Forget demons and fire, would that not be the greatest punishment?