Notable thing number one: my favorite professor (who looks like Andrew Jackson, but who I've been calling Alexander Hamilton because I keep thinking Hamilton is the guy on the twenty) sat in on the class at the request of Joey, who was guest lecturing.

Notable thing number two: every single one of my dozen students showed up. This is a miracle. I have never had all of them show up to a class. Nope, not even the first day. Most of them show up every time (and why wouldn't they) but there are a few of them who seem to come only on alternate weeks.

Notable thing number three: Joey's guest lecture. She did well; she reminded me of me, when I was first starting to lecture (all those many weeks ago) and lacked some confidence. But it must have been difficult-- at this point, my students and I have a very comfortable dynamic, and I think it can be intimidating. It's a different vibe from any of our grad-level classes-- more challenging, more engaging. I think, anyway.

Notable thing number four: Professor President said that "by all accounts, [my class] has been a resounding success." I don't know whose accounts these are, but it's nice to know someone has noticed that my class fucking rules and that I'm a talented teacher. Dare I say it? I guess my students will let me know if I'm delusional when they fill out their evaluations.

Notable thing number five: the workshop was as great-- loose and fun and productive-- as it is nearly every week. Professor President limited himself to a few, very perceptive, comments rather than taking over class, as I feared he might do in spite of himself. So he got to observe (and participate in) my class at its best.

Notable thing number six: a funny moment. The assignment was a persona poem, from the point of view of someone of the opposite gender, which tapped into the shadow side of the writer's personality. So everyone's poem was dark and bloody and gory and sinister and so forth. Except the last one, which was about Christmas. This girl gets a box from her dad, and it turns out to contain her mother's dress, which she's finally old enough to wear, and it's touching because her mother passed away. So my student reads his poem, and someone raises her hand and says, "Is it just me, or did anyone else expect the box to contain the mom's severed head?" Everyone busted up laughing because we all did-- we had been conditioned to expect it at that point. Then one of my other students busted out with the best Brad Pitt impression ever: "Aww, what's in the boooox?" I'm still giggling.

Anyway, I get to give them their evaluation forms next week, where they can talk about how good or bad I was as a teacher. I am excited to see what they write on them, largely because I am expecting praise (let's be honest here) but also because if there's some constructive criticism to be had, let me at it.

I don't get to read the evaluations until I've turned in their grades, though. Which is probably wise, because I recognize everyone's handwriting by now. I'm going to try and get their grades turned in before I go to Los Angeles-- actually, I have to, unless I want to rush home right after New Years; they're due on January third.

It's not exactly an unpleasant prospect-- I look forward to giving them their grades and evaluations. I love them all so much. Particularly my two students who will probably be getting A plusses from me.

My Ezra Pound class is over, one week early. I got an A on my Cantos project (20 pages of my own cantos, plus variorum) which means an A in the class. And I also got some wonderful comments from the professor. Woo!

I can't say as I'll ever read the Cantos again, but Pound's critical work is fascinating; I'll probably work my way through that. I like it far better than his poetry, which I respect the hell out of, but don't exactly "enjoy" reading most of the time.

Probst read some of my new stuff the other day, and noted that I have a new attentiveness to sound. That is absolutely true. Sound and melody: I'll never be inattentive to them again. Thanks, Ezra.

My Making it New class had to answer these ten questions last week. It's a questionnaire from 1929, from the editor of a magazine called The Little Review. She sent them out to a bunch of writers (including Gertrude Stein, Aldous Huxley and Ernest Hemingway) and printed their responses.

The responses of my classmates were funny, smart and perceptive. But I don't have theirs here, so I'll share mine instead.

1. What would you most like to do, to know, to be? (In case you are not satisfied.)

I have a list containing over a hundred things that I am determined to do and know. When I re-read the list, I am satisfied just being me: the type of person who would like to do all these things.

2. Why wouldn't you change places with any other human being?

Sherwood Anderson's answer is better than mine. "Because, after a good deal of experience and experiment, I have found out a few minor things about myself and would have to begin all over if I were someone else." My answer is that I love being me. Which is also true.

3. What do you look forward to?

I want to say that I look forward to my next poem, but I don't ever assume there will be one. So I look forward to the next episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer instead.

4. What do you fear most from the future?

Death, disease, and entropy.

5. What has been the happiest moment of your life? The unhappiest? (If you care to tell.)

I can't isolate the "happiest" moment of my life. There are many kinds of happiness, and I've had many such moments. The unhappiest moments are all related to the deaths of the people I love, or the tragic disintegration of love affairs. (Or both at the same time, but that was a really bad day.)

6. What do you consider your weakest characteristics? Your strongest? What do you like most about yourself? Dislike most?

Weakest: susceptibility in love and lack of discipline. Strongest: independence and optimism. I like my: creativity, humor, intellect. I dislike: when I am judgmental, a procrastinator, or a snob.

7. What things do you really like? Dislike? (Nature, people, ideas, objects, etc. Answer in a phrase or a page, as you will.)

I really like: the San Francisco skyline. I really dislike: unpaid bills.

8. What is your attitude toward art today?

It's all part of the capitalist machine, but there's beauty and transcendence underneath it all.

9. What is your world view? (Are you a reasonable being in a reasonable scheme?)

Neither the presence of a God nor the absence of one seems reasonable. So no.

10. Why do you go on living?

For creation, entertainment, love, growth, adventure, travel, transformation, family, friends, poetry, knowledge, curiosity, happiness, satisfaction and to know the endings of as many things as I can.

Bonus question: What is the motivating factor behind all your actions?

A thirst for knowledge.

"She read the entry where I mentioned that all this praise might be going to my head, and in retaliation, she wants to tell embarrassing stories about me. That's my little sister. Her specialty: publicly humiliating her family in exchange for cheap laughs."