8. Heading home, it took me almost 30 minutes to drive down Van Ness and onto the freeway, and at every stop light I cracked open Marianne's book to read from her story, "American Milk."
7. In reviewing the drinks and tsismis portion of the afternoon, I am one with Barbara Jane: lips? Sealed.
6. Two (white!) gentlemen almost came to fisticuffs (I've always wanted to use that word) during the discussion portion of the event. Fisticuffs! I believe the parting zing was something like, "That is complete elitist bullshit!"
5. I'm happy to report that the man with the coffee, cookies, and rolling cart who so unmercilessly interrupted Patrick Rosal with his evil, excruciatingly squeaking wheels and other random noisiness lo those months ago, did much better today. Or perhaps it was just chance. Regardless, he was not disruptive.
4. Marianne read the title story of her collection Mayor of the Roses. May-lee Chai described it as one of the best short stories she's ever read, and I'm inclined to agree. Deeply moving, with a quality of disturbance that lingers. And lingers. And lingers.
3. May-lee read a portion of her story about a Cambodian family living in South Dakota (this from Gorgeous Asians). An engaging reader, both fierce and tender. If only she'd brought along copies of her book to sell!
2. These two women filled almost every seat! On a Sunday! And not just any Sunday, a sunny, bright, gorgeous San Francisco Sunday.
1. Why did I not know Barbara Jane had cut her hair? Quite fetching.
And now I'm gonna hop into bed and finish "American Milk."