I kinda heart Anthony Bourdain these days. Watching a lot of Travel Channel and I just dig his attitude. And he smokes. He isn't afraid to be an ass and can be rude. I'm tired of alleged nice people. I am embracing my inner misanthrope. I jut read this gorgeous piece of writing by Bourdain on World Hum: Subcontinental Homesick Blues. Beautiful, un-self conscious writing is a rare, exciting intoxication. More please.
The rain kept people away from the reading last night but I still read to Lea, the woman working and my sister and her friends. It was intimate and sweet. Kind of a roundtable poetry reading. I really do love the poems in this collection.
After I ended up at the Whistlestop (I realize I am ending up there a lot) and had some drinks. I had a great conversation about religion with an old friend I never get to see enough of. Then a heated conversation with half-strangers about whether or not women rock, musically. Um, yes:
This is Love
Ha! I haven't even started Christmas shopping. Bah humbug.