Cave Canem in 3 days, and I hurt my back

I'll be at Cave Canem in just three days, and just my luck; I've hurt my back.  I suppose it isn't entirely a surprise, since I hurt it every so often (years unloading trucks, and slouching, I guess) but damned if that doesn't piss me off.

It reminds me, in a labyrinthine sort of way, of how as a child I used to hope for injuries and sicknesses which would save me from school so I could play video games or read.  You wouldn't believe how much I loved the chicken pox.  A sign, right there from the start, that I was either going to grow up to be a writer, or a perpetually unemployed mooch.

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Change of scene.  I don't think that I've mentioned it at all on this blog, but I write for We Who Are About to Die.  I'm loving it; there's a special kind of joy in laughing at a joke that nobody you know is going to appreciate because nobody else reads contemporary poetry.  I call it the Frasier Effect.

Anyway, I wrote a recent blog at WWAATD entitled Is Kipling Racist?  Check it out.

Oh, and a shout out to Elisa Gabbert, of The French-Exit,  for suggesting them when I Twitter-asked which blogs might be looking for contributors.