I'm resurfacing here to say that graduate school is having its desired effect. I wrote 2000 words in 4 hours last night, and have a full weekend of writing (with breaks for bike rides, meals with friends, & downtime) ahead of me. I'm the happiest I've been in a long, long time. Grad school appears to suit me, if the first week is any indication. The classes are fun and I like my professors and the work is, uh, kinda helping me stay on track to write my little hands off.
I also blame grad school for the weird esoteric sex dream I had last night:
I was in the secluded upstairs of a fancy vintage bookstore -- and I called a lover for a blowjob. Uhh? "Oh baby, let's do it in the Oscar Wilde?"