correspondence.

I shouldn't be blogging as I have to be at an U-Bahn station in approximately seven hours to meet for a tour of Communist Architecture in Vienna, and I am also a little bit drunk because tonight it was Heimfest and while the rest of the people in my dormitory were downstairs drinking or outside smoking, Annie and I played a fierce, inebriated round of cards in her room while listening to such hits as "Geh Mal Tanzen" by MO-DO and "Moskau" by the highly underrated Soviet disco group, Dschengis Khan. All of which are available on Youtube.

But here's the news:

"Dear Rachel Richardson,
I am pleased to inform you that our editors have accepted your story
“Trapeze” for publication in the minnesota review."

This is a direct copy and paste from the email I just received, because it's true, it's happening, it's Highly Significant and Unbelievable but, like I said, I'm kind of tipsy so I can't elaborate more than that. I'm 21 years old and I'm getting published in a national literary magazine - the issue doesn't come out until September, but if you're bored sometime this fall, go hunt down a copy at Border's and have yourself a read. I've been celebrating since I heard the news, which was potential news until just now, and I'd already been celebrating tonight but hey - anyone who wants a drink with me when I'm stateside again, let's go and toast to success and stardom. Or at least publication.

This is another gem from my inbox today:

"Dear Rachel,
Penny and I were talking last night, and she asked how you were doing. I said you were fine but ready to come home. She asked when you would be home, and I told her, but I’m not sure she understands how long a month is or what I meant by “July 1.” I probably should have said “x number of sleeps after the next full moon,” but then I would have had to consult a reference book to find out when the next full moon is, then add up the number of nights after that, and by the time I had done all of that, Penny would probably have forgotten what we were talking about. "

From my father. I love my dad. I love my dog. I love all you lovely people out there. And I hope, honestly and truly and sincerely, that life is going just as swimmingly well for you, wherever you may be.