Your School of Music staff picture made you out to be so much uglier than you actually are so I couldn’t show my friends, so we couldn’t fan ourselves with our fangirl palms and drool together over you.
I couldn’t make them understand the dark-haired, fair-faced impetus for trotting a mile to class in the actual spiked Mary Janes that made de Sade himself blanch—
what pale, long-fingered hand moving half notes from here to there delectability made me choose the long sensuous skirt with the long sensuous slit, (oh mid 90’s rage!)
what high-toned atonal muscle, what used-to-be-high-school-outcast humor made me squeeze my thighs together surreptitiously between this-will-be-on-the-quiz cues.
Dr. Link—may I call you Stan— of course I may, I was also madly in love with every single silver button on your early spring black jacket.
I am an essayist and poet. My work has been rejected by some of the finest journals in America. Fortunately, it also gets accepted from time to time and has appeared in equally fine journals such as Word Riot, Inlandia, Brew City Magazine, and SageWoman, among others.. In 2002, I won the Academy of American Poets Prize for Vanderbilt University.
For no good reason, I possess an unnecessarily dark humor which is why being third generation California Inland Empirian delights me so. My gods are weird. I once won $350 for writing a smartassed essay on “why the wise use of water is important in my daily life”. I am undoubtedly the Greek god Hermes’ special snowflake. I’m pretty sure I got into college via a series of fortuitous clerical errors.
When I had to grow up and get a real job, I decided against it and stayed a writer. I have worked many odd—and I mean odd—jobs to support my habit: PR writer for country music hopefuls, resume massager, WalMart fitting room attendant and switchboard operator, and telephone psychic, just to name a few.
I am also albino. That's why my psychic gifts are so strong. I traded in my pigment for magical foresight, because that's how it works. It gets all technical. Trust me. That's totally how it works.
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M. N. Ashley 