King Shit of Fuck Mountain
Yesterday, a friend of mine from school (Teresa) and I attended one of The New Yinzer's reading at ModernFormations. The readers included Dawn Lundy Martin (poetry), Karl Hendricks (fiction), Ed Strek (poetry), and musican David Bernabo. Martin's poetry sounded very unique. My guess is that she writes with very short lines, and I found it entertaining/interesting that she also--spoke in--two word--or syllable--moments. Hendricks' short story was interesting although his characters seemed a bit stereotypical and therefore predictable. It was a funny story, though. Strek was very sick with a cough, but his poetry was something I would not mind reading on my own. Oh, and one of the best moments of the night was watching Bernabo's fingers tap the strings of his guitar. His music reminds me of the soundtrack (that I would love to own) of the movie "Into The Wild". Good traveling music. Teresa bought herself one of his CDs. Good night.
And for those of you who were let down by this post because you thought that the subject of the post would deem something amazingly graphic, I'm sorry. That was the name of one of the paintings in the gallery tonight. Hilarious.
Tonight after class, me, Kevin, and John are headed to a reading at Your Inner Vagabond Cafe. We will all be reading, so wish us the best! I've never been to this cafe. Here is a link: www.yourinnervagabond.com.
I have so much work to do (finally)!
And I get to go home to Len tonight! I haven't been with him since Sunday. It's weird to think that we went months without seeing each other when I was down in Virginia.
For those of you who would like to know, I am currently reading The Flag of Childhood by Naomi Shihab Nye, Hunger at the Moon by Billy Childish (borrowing it from Kevin), Sun Under Wood by Robert Hass, Poets in the Garden (a poetry collection), Supernatural Love by Gjertrud Schnackenberg, So What by Taha Muhammad Ali, and I will begin reading The Secret by Rhonda Byrne. I think that may be it. Oh, there is also Second Skin by John Hawkes, Time and Materials by Robert Hass...and that should be it, maybe.
No work and no class tomorrow! Just writing, reading, and running...and picking up my paycheck?