3/18/03 - Coming Clean: My Seven Confessions to Grad Schools

Tuesday, March 18, 2003
Vol. 4, No. 3
Coming Clean: My Seven Confessions to Grad Schools

Hello, and welcome to the nineteenth installment of NotWriting.com, an open journal on the stuff one writer does when he really should be writing.

Since I submitted my grad school applications at the end of December 2002, I've felt guilty that a lot of important information about me, my habits, and my lifestyle was left out. Although these omissions are not my fault (their applications are notoriously myopic in the stuff they ask for, like where you went for undergrad—come on!), my conscience compels me to come clean. And so, without further ado, I am now unloading seven confessions in the hopes that the admissions committees, in their supreme wisdom, will respect my honesty and let me in.

Confession #1

I have long had a penchant for writing all of my work in crayon. My brand and color of choice is Crayola's burnt sienna, although in a pinch I have been known to substitute periwinkle. I have a special "bulk" deal with Crayola where they send me three boxes of 64 burnt sienna crayons per month, and they bill my credit card directly. However, with all of the writing I'll be doing in your MFA program, I'll probably have to up my order to 384 (that's 6 boxes of 64) burnt siennas a month. I just wanted you to know about this quirk of mine because there's no way I'm going to change—I love my crayons too much. Besides, I don't know how to type. As you read this, my 90-year-old shut-in neighbor is doing it for me.

Confession #2

I am proud to disclose that I am the third understudy to the Lord of the Dance in the touring production of Riverdance. (My stage name is Joseph Moriarty.) While being an understudy may not sound like much, it is very time consuming, taking me through cities like Memphis, Anchorage, Omaha, Duluth, Helena, Montgomery, and Walla Walla. The fact is, since I travel with the show five days a week, I will only be available for classes on Mondays, Tuesdays, and alternate Sundays. However, even when I'm free from the show, rehearsals often leave my feet and shins (I have shin splints) so sore that I am confined to a wheelchair. Because of this, I will require a lovely young coed to push me to classes. Thanks for your understanding in this matter.

Confession #3

I have a significant moonshine habit. In my living room, I keep a large still (yes, just like the one Hawkeye and Honeycut had on M.A.S.H.) and manufacture a gallon of 'shine a day. My 'shine production often creates a surplus, which I usually sell to offset living expenses. Now and then, a bearded man named Zeke may crash one of your fiction workshops, but don't you pay him no nevermind; he may say that I stole his recipe, but it was my grandpappy's and I've got the papers to prove it.

Confession #4

I have a collection of 297 mattresses—government surplus, hotel surplus, and some still in their plastic covers from the warehouse. Most of them are queen-sized, however to round out my collection I also have my fair share of twin, institution-sized (narrower and longer than regular twin), full, king, and the ever-elusive California King. To store my collection, I will require at least one wing of your largest dormitory or the entire Faculty Club. (Please note that four of the mattresses are missing their tags, but I'm confident that if we keep them hidden no one will find out.)

HOLY CRAYOLA, BATMAN!: Build
your own 64-crayon box of your
favorite color.

GRANDPAPPY'S RECIPE: My dear
old granddad inspecting my first
batch 'o shine. Later on, me and
Pappy got liquored up and smashed
mailboxes. He showed me how to
do it Old School, with a two-by-four!

THE BOXING KANGAROO: An honest-to-God
proposed replacement flag for Australia.

Confession #5

You'll be pleased to know that in addition to my talents as a writer, I bring terrific organizing skills to your program. For example, for six years I have held Friday night kangaroo boxing (because of Riverdance scheduling, however, this will need to change to Tuesday night kangaroo boxing). My roo's name is Katherine, so I bill the tournament as "The Taming of the Roo." Get it? Folks—generally stupid, drunk men—pay $50 each to take a chance in the ring with Kate. Usually they're knocked out cold within five seconds. In the interest of supporting the MFA program, I would be glad to combine the boxing with poetry readings, creating a spectacular performance art piece. On these nights, we could charge $100 per person, with the additional 50 going directly to the writing program! And, if the audience judges a poem as particularly bad, Kate is more than capable of beating the living shit out of the poet! When you send my acceptance kit, let me know what you think because Kate gets booked up pretty quickly.

Confession #6

In my spare time, I am a CIA Black Ops operative. Therefore, if you or any of the students see me on top of a building with a high-powered rifle and scope, DO NOT BE ALARMED. I am not going to shoot anyone; I am simply practicing by placing the scope's crosshairs on people's heads and dry-firing. Thank you for your understanding in this matter.

Confession #7

I'm a practicing polygamist with 6 wives and 27 children. The problem? Feeding all of them. Obviously, writing doesn't pay much and there's only so much you can do with government cheese and food stamps. So...I'm going to need 34 (one for me) of those dining hall cards. And I'm talking the full, 3-meals-a-day card here—not that skimpy 2-meal one. Also, could you make sure that your dining hall always has fresh breadfruit on hand? My fourth wife really enjoys it, and if she doesn't get any, I don't get any, if you know what I mean.

- 30 -

Amazon Honor System