9/5
Jen, Pudding House publisher, is pretty sure
my chapbook will be released mid-month. She said I should
cross my fingers. Done.
As for Al...
9/29--3:00a.m.
Anticipating a Hendry's trek. The Soj. Showing
Scott the secret Hope Ranch path. Sitting by the Sibyl's outdoor
fireplace. Breathing?
9/30
The SB Book & Author Festival
The most wonderful part of the event was meeting
Jane Hirshfield. She is gracious, unassuming and someone you
would hope to have tea with or a walk so that you could pelt
her with questions. Her reading at the festival was so natural
and unforced it was nothing less than riveting. She has been
described as a "quietly powerful" poet, but the power in her
poetry is far from tip-toed. How lucky for Santa Barbarans
to have had her as their guest.
My reading took place in the SB Museum of
Art's little cafe. 10am. Through the windows: gloom. No one
could figure out the lights. But Mary Rose read first and
she is one of those artists who explode--in an inspiring,
mood-lightening way--before an audience. Her poem on one of
the museum's paintings was extremely imaginative. She woke
up the room.
I read, lost my place, forgot to wear my reading
glasses until 1/2 way through the reading, remembered to have
fun by the time I reached the last poem. My mother was appalled,
wanted me to be louder and craved enunciation--but Scott (deaf
in one ear) heard every word. Certain Santa Barbarans showed
I haven't seen in years. The Sibyl, didn't show. She was righting
a guest room trashed by my dad's dog, the limping-lamb
I've been minding and who I asked the Sibyl to host
while I was in town. The dog--the dog--I can't even go there.
After Jane Hirshfield's reading, Scott and I answered the
Sibyl's SOS, picked up the dog, thanked the Sibyl passionately,
Scott confessed he was getting the flu and I drove us home.
Bye-bye festival. Hello real life.
Back in Noho, the lights went out. Through
our modest living room windows: gloom. We went to bed with
the traumatized limping-lamb, cold medicine and the first
season of LOST. Outraged by the canine's presence, the cats
refused to engage.
No chapbook yet.
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