"ASK ME, UH-HO-HO, ASK ME"

April 26th, dollfaces, I'll be reading a little something I wrote for RAGAD. Location and time? Eh, I'll let you know. Anyway, bees knees!

Have you looked in at the participant list for Pilcrow Lit Fest lately? It's getting bigger every day. Man, that's going to be a forch fest. Are you coming to it? Have you emailed me and said, "Amy Guth, I want to be on a panel/volunteer to help/give you merch and tzotch for the participant goody bags"...? Well? Please do. How else can I possibly know? Right. So email. Show on road. Chop, chop.

Have you all stopped by lately to gaze lovingly at my new website? It's real purdy. And new!

"ACCEPT YOURSELF"

At about 4:30 am, I was having a dream that I was talking about my brother's recent travels in South America (fictional), and how I suspected he'd brought back a strange frog with him. As I was describing the dream, I heard the frog flapping around, so I turned off the lights and tried to find him, hoping to return the frog to my brother, nearly 1,000 miles away (not fictional). So I was in the dark, trying to find a frog (Dunno why I thought being n the dark would help my chances of finding the frog) and dreamed that he (the frog) suddenly started flopping around and jumping all over, so when I (not dream me, but actual me) thought something hit my chest, I woke up and jumped out of bed with a little scream. Kitty meowed and hopped onto the dresser, I flipped on the light and quickly realized, after shaking out all the covers in a dreamy-haze, there was no South American frog in my apartment.

I read a magazine for a bit until my heart rate returned to normal, then fell back asleep and started dreaming about trying to get crated artwork on a plane as a carry-on with a group of people.

Hi kids, how the effing eff are youse? So, I suppose I should catch you up:

Turns out, Needle-In-Chest/Lung is less pleasant than Needle-In-Boob. But, I'm okay. I'm always okay. I don't have breast cancer and I sho' don't have breast cancer that got over-ambitious and fashioned itself into lung cancer. I don't have anything. I'm good, great even, and I am over needles for the time being.

Speaking of boobage, check out what Goaty sent me: Right here. It's funny how this boob ordeal has changed my thinking a little about boobs. Stuff like this is really amazing to me all of a sudden, where it would have probably just been too-lame-to-think-about before. Now, I get this feeling... having played out scenarios in my head of being boobless, and brainstorming every think I possibly can to keep them just on and healthy, boob slings and implants and shit, outside of a reconstructive purpose, just really seems so extra weird to me, like listening to people speak a language I can't speak at all.

Anyway.

I got a lot done in the past week, most of which I'm proud of, and I have two fun new projects coming up you'll hear about in the next couple of days that I'm super-excited about. As for now, I'm caught up for the time being, so I'm going to sit and write on manuscripts and chill.

But!

I'm still looking to make my website, Guth-a-Go-Go, look like Alton Brown's website, and need a web dude or dudette to make that happen. I don't need anyone to maintain it, per se, just put the bones up and make it rad and I'll keep it updated. That much html I do know. Please, please email with rates and time frame and we'll work it out. So long as it doesn't involve whoring myself, I'd even be willing to work out a trade of some kind. Anything. I just need to get that website hoppin' with a quickness.

"ASSEMBLE THE WAYS"

Long story that I will spare you the details of, but this evening, Leah and I found ourselves in quite a situation that involved a stack of linoleum tiles, a ladder precariously balanced on the linoleum tiles, a lamp pushed out of the way with head and shoulder, my butt sticking into Leah's face from the ladder, a cellphone conversation, a Chicago Bears scarf, a frustrating self-slamming door and yellowish paint. Best not to ask.

In other news, my website, Guth-a-Go-Go needs a facelift and fast (more on why that might be later this week) and my webdude is very popular and very busy these days so I'm going to throw this out there: The goal is to make it look like a more "me" version of Alton Brown's website as quickly as possible. So? Anyone feel up to the task? If so, email me your schpiel and rates and turnaround time and all that and and let's see what happens. Great.

I'm so tired I just laughed at my can opener.

"IF YOU HAVE FIVE SECONDS TO SPARE THEN I'LL TELL YOU THE STORY OF MY LIFE"

You guys, I got a little sneak-peek of the new Guth-a-Go-Go website this afternoon, and it'll be great. There's a lot of things to tinker with and play around with and decide upon, but I'm liking what I see thus far. It'll be good.

Deadlines mostly, at the moment, so I haven't much to report.

"YOU'RE GONNA NEED SOMEONE ON YOUR SIDE"

Tomorrow night I have the pleasure of reading with Timothy Schaffert at The Fixx at 7:30pm. C'mon out. Just hop the brown, red or purple line to the Belmont stop and head south on Sheffield a few blocks. Just south of Matilda's. Easy-peasy. See all of you there!

"DISPLAYING YOUR NAME"

I'd be tickled pink if you could come say hello tonight!

"THIS NIGHT HAS OPENED HER EYES"

Oh snap! We have a winner. "The Prosecutor" chimed in yesterday with:

I asked: Why is Last Good Day of The Year by Cousteau a significant song to me?

The Prosecutor answered: "You wrote the first draft of Three Fallen Women with that song looping over and over on repeat"

Correct!

I asked: Name three venues where I have held readings...?

The Prosecutor answered: "Camp Trans, Hart, MI; Quimby's, Chicago, IL; and Symposium Books, Providence, RI."

Correct again! And, a bonus point for naming the cities, too.

I asked: What are the names of the three women in my book, Three Fallen Women?

She answered: "Helen, Carmen, & Frieda"

A slam dunk!

And there you have it. The Prosecutor is now the proud owner of a brand-spankin' new Guth-a-Go-Go lapel pin, or, she will be as soon as I schlep to the post office and mail it to her. What a hill of fun that was! You know, if this prosecutor is indeed a prosecutor, and not say, a gal with a really intimidating pseudonym, I can only hope she wears her new lapel pin in court.

"THE MORE YOU IGNORE ME, THE CLOSER I GET"

Ahem, just a friendly little reminder about my "Friends In High Places" photo contest. Remember, and this is key, I think, that it isn't about famous people, it's about the most famous or important person that you have access to. It's all relative. So, if your landlord is a VIP in your life, then a photo of your landlord holding the book is a perfectly reasonable photo submission. What's that? You don't have a copy of my book? Oh, well, you can buy a copy of Three Fallen Women at one of my upcoming readings, on March 8th (Bookslut Reading Series) and March 21st (The Book Cellar) or, if you are far too impatient for any such thing, you can order a copy right this every minute by clicking here and seeing a dazzling array of ordering options.

Oh, and don't let me stop you from emailing this post to all of your friends. Really. Go right ahead.