If anyone has sent anything to either myself or The Canary via snailmail in the past two weeks or so, consider it undelivered.
It seems that I have a mail thief--this is how my checking account number fell into the wrong hands. My mail has been routinely stolen over the past couple of weeks. I just thought I wasn't getting mail, until I began hearing from people asking if I had received their checks, letters, submissions, etc.
Nope. Some evil motherfucker has stolen them. Things are a little weird up in here right now. I want to believe this is all crazy coincidence, but I have my doubts.
Stay tuned for instructions for re-sending.
In the meantime, if you have something really important to send, backchannel me and I'll give you my parents' address.
Peace out y'all. Hold on, be strong. Etc., ad infinitum.
"I am an idealistic, naive, passionate, truth-seeking, spiritually motivated artist, unschooled in the science of law and finance." --Wesley Snipes
Friday, October 14, 2005
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11 comments:
Well in that case, did you get the extremely expensive and thoughtful gift I sent you last week?
Sucks, dude.
That totally sucks, man. I spent YEARS saving up for that 25-year-old bottle of Macallan for your birthday ...
(I know, not the most original, but it's all I could do on short notice).
Hope it all works out for you.
I'm so sorry - I had some mail stolen last year and it was such a pain to call everyone, have them cancel checks, redo all kinds of paperwork, check on bills...I feel your pain! Hope you get some good news soon...
PS: Rebecca Loudon showed me your poem in the current issue of 88. I think the title was "Triskedekaphobia." Awesome poem. For whatever it's worth, I liked it a lot.
Me too.
Thanks everybody, again, for caring.
It's a hassle, but I'll get through it.
And Peter and Rebecca, I'm positively delighted that you like my long-ass poem in Forklift Ohio. Good to hear.
Was it Forklift, with the techy orange plastic cover? Sorry, I thought it was 88. Rebecca had both with her that night (she is in *everything* lately, the b**ch . . . grin).
Jeez, Tony, that sucks. I used to play in a band with someone a few hours away, and she would never get the demo tapes I send her. We finally realized it was because the guy who had been stalking her for a year or so worked at the post office.
Tony let me know if you don't see that Drill I sent you last week. I can send you another ASAP. What a pain.
Hey Tony, I sent you Gabriella's chapbook & a broadside. Did you get those? I can re-send later this week. Let me know--
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