Well, I am sticky, but I am alive and quite content. It’s not oppressively hot, but the humidity is certainly dictatorial.

After getting settled in, we had a new student orientation, which consisted of the program directors telling us the schedule, where things are, and that we’d all have at least one nervous breakdown in the next ten days. Please have it on Tuesday, they ask, since that’s the day off. (Presumably, this will let us recover from any festivities that may occur on the fourth of July.)

Following this, there was a horribly uncomfortable but fairly enjoyable time during which the faculty came down and introduced themselves only by name and genre, and then we were told, “Mingle.” True to every lesson that Michael McFee ever taught me about writing, I headed straight for the wine, and sure enough, the interesting people followed shortly or were already there.

Soon, all of the returning students were upon us, and a dinner was set out. There were Thai noodles with shrimp, which sounded delightful, but the returning students clearly knew the score, so while I was hobknobbing with an interesting faculty member, they, vulture-like, separated all of the shrimp from the noodles and gobbled it up. My dinner was cold noodles, cucumbers, and two glasses of wine. And I am no wine drinker. (Returning students, fill your maws while you may… I’ll not be last in the dinner line again!)

The first reading was thoroughly enjoyable, though I must admit– and you may not tell anyone in this program– my favorite reading of the night was fiction. Grace Dana Mazur (will check the spelling on that later), or Gretchen, read from a novel which I absolutely must find, because her selection was just delightful.

Now I am back at the dorm, enjoying a beer (I snuck into town to hit an ATM and buy some Blue, and came back to find that the place is ghostly quiet– apparently, weary travelers must sleep) on the porch and listening to Luscious Jackson through my computer. I’m pleased with the first day; already, one of the poets entering the program has given me food for thought that led to one of those a-ha moments (by not working on a computer, he finds that he doesn’t censor himself by using the backspace… simple, and it never occured to me). I’ll hit the bed fairly soon in my not-too-air-conditioned room, which has the same thick, muggy air that the rest of the place has. I wonder how long the four Blues I will leave in the fridge will last. I’m quite certain I won’t see any of them.

And yes, there are shitloads of bugs here, and I think I taste very good to them. After my recent poison ivy travails, I could care less. Bring on the itching.

For those following along from home, I am in the mountains of North Carolina for the next ten days attending the MFA for Writers Program at Warren Wilson College. I just arrived 20 minutes ago, so of course I did the most important thing first: set up Internet access and hop on Skype.

Then, of course, I blogged.

I’m here with next to zero information, and don’t know a soul beyond Jynne Martin, who is a returning student and won’t arrive until later. Thankfully, as I was bring my computer up to the room, the student who had e-mailed me recognized me from my picture on the Internet and gave me the skinny– everyone is working on zero information the first day.

That’s good to know.