There are seventeen other people in the world who know the slightly sick feeling I experienced when I read these words in the search terms used to find my blog just a few minutes ago:
Clarion San Diego Food
As I type eighteen new Clarionites are preparing to embark on the potentialy life changing experience that will be Clarion 2009. I know who you are, I’ve had a full list of your names and send you all good wishes.
You have come here seeking answers. Yes, at Clarion you will learn things about yourself as a writer you never even considered. You will make friendships that will grow and evolve in unexpected ways as you grow and evolve as a writer of speculative fiction. You will gleen nuggets of wisdom from expert writers who have walked the path before you, and you will discover truths about writing that might have taken years otherwise. All of this will happen as will much else.
But you will not enjoy the food. Yes my darlings, whatever whispered rumours sent you scurrying to your computer keyboard to Google ‘Clarion San Diego Food’ can not possibly be as bad as the reality you are about to experience. They call it Canyon Vista. We call it hell. So will you.
Have fun. And pack snack food.
Pack two … and some vegetables … pots and pans …
… it would probably be best just have your friends and family chip in for $1000 gift certificate to Whole Foods.
Hey, at least there’s a Trader Joe’s. TJ’s was my savior.
When I got home, I couldn’t figure out why I hadn’t become immensely zaftig after six weeks of no dancing, and then I remembered the squid patties…
If I hadn’t experienced Canyon Vista first hand, the idea of a $1000 Whole Foods gift certificate would strike me as frivolous. Now it strikes me as necessary.
The bacon was okay on most days, though.
Thank God the instructors could cook. And so could we. I sort of feel like we should send a squid-free care package to them at some point.