A real day job makes me appreciate the weekend more. But I'm torn. I want to go hiking and to the Botanical Garden, and do all the things I know I'll miss when I'm gone--but I have got shit to do! I need to get some real writing done this weekend. No more fucking around.
I did get both a walk and a Spanish lesson in, and I did even more *talking* about writing (mostly talking about publishing).
So a friend asked me why anyone would start a literary magazine, when so many already exist. I said that was like asking why would anyone open a bar when there were so many already. I think it's about trying to craft the kind of bar you'd like to hangout in--even if in doing so, you aren't able to actually hang out there yourself. But you get to create a place for people of a like mind (hopefully) and if you are a better business person than a drunk, well it's a no-brainer.
That's kind of a crappy analogy, sorry. Suffice to say, I am glad people are still starting lit mags.
Also, I'm pretty beat. Goodnight, sweet peeps and jellybeans.