Just returned home from a rehearsal for R & V's school play, The Polar Express. I would like to officially doff my jaunty little cap to the volunteer director(s) because the only thing worse than having to watch the madness of one of these rehearsals is having to direct one.
Working backwards, I will now report on Sunday. The whole of Sunday was sucked up by my darling psuedo-niece's 2nd birthday party. Birthday parties at which the participants are all Filipino crack me up. The men stand outside talking on their cell phones, occasionally directing boys to be careful with the light sabers or other weapons they've brought, and the women? The women just walk around saying, "Have you eaten? Did you eat? You should eat? 'Sus, there's so much food!" I find this sort of gathering predictable, yet somehow comforting.
On Saturday, Marianne V. and I read together at Eastwind. Ms. Gladys, whose acquaintance I was so pleased to finally make, has a mini-report on the shared paranoia exhibited by Marianne and myself. I feel that I've finally purged myself of the paranoia, by the way, so be careful if you ever come to hear me read because I'm going to feel free to ramble 'til my eyeballs start to bleed. At which point I will refer to my reading as "performance art." Poeta also came out to see us, but was not wearing a rhinestone barrette. S'okay.
I like to read at Eastwind Books because it's cozy. This makes it a little easier to connect with the audience than at a place where the first row is, say, ten feet away. And I like reading at Eastwind because it's an end-destination bookstore. In other words, anyone walking through the door is not doing so in the hopes of picking up InStyle or, I dunno, The DaVince Code or Bergdorf Blondes. They are walking through the door because they're looking for Asian/Asian-American literature. Which means that even if they weren't planning on coming to a reading, they generally stick around if there's one happening. So anyways, the audience was nice and attentive, and they asked us interesting questions about process. I especially enjoyed that since I don't spend a lot of time considering the way(s) in which I work or, for that matter, don't work.
Afterwards, Indian food with Barbara Jane, Marianne, and my cousin Detsie. End result? Full belly. Drove home listening to some station playing several tracks off Madonna's "Confessions on a Dance Floor." I'm afraid I'm going to have to get it. Don't hate me because I'm dorky.
*said in creepy Joaquin-Phoenix-as-Commodus-voice*
4 comments:
As I mentioned, "Bernie" is probably my favorite story you've written and I enjoyed Marianne's reading as well.
. . . so exhilarating to hang with you literary intellectual types! Thanks for having me along to dinner. --Detsie
p.s. it was nice seeing the lu-ster and company, too, no?
Thanks for making the trek, Dets! When was the last time we had dinner together?! It was fun...
I like performance art, although your plan sounds scary -- bleeding eyeballs? It would probably be good to read one of your scary stories at that point (do you have any of those, by the way?).
I think Eastwind BoB is cozy too. Again, so good to finally meet ya, Miz V(B)ee.
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