Meaning I'm in NYC, man. But only for a couple more days. Then it's off to spread mayhem HERE where, my trusty sidekick Jessica Piazza and I have schemed to spend a long weekend immersed in this sort of sassafras. In truth, it is I who is her trusty sidekick as she is truly the mistress of all people worth knowing and all things worth knowing about.
Last I informed the forum, I was off, off, off to Berlin, where I was to kick it with Mr. Cave for my last concert of the European tour. Because I am an insomniac (a fate too common in our community, methinks) I didn't sleep the night before, and so I hied to Berlin utterly schlaflos. But I survived, took a cross-town bus to my friend's place, and met her there just in time to escort her to the post office where she mailed the fruits of her own insomnia (a 20 page paper considering the Church's response to the 3rd Reich) to one of her seminary professors. That done, we had a couple hours of lollygagging before going to the Tempodrom for the show.
I won't linger over details that would only interest fools like me, but I do have to relay a wickedly bad-ass anecdote. A few songs into the show, I had turned to Eva to mention something about the quality of the sound (fan-freakin'-tastic!) and when I turned around, Mistah Cave was standing over me. He asked me how I was and I responded with some sort of enthusiastic jibberish. Then he squared up at the edge of the stage and pointed straight at me and announced "Harlot!" and then said the next song was mine. And then he played "Red Right Hand."
He calls 'em like he sees 'em, me supposes. (Insert mile-wide grin here.)
Then I flew to Chicago for the first ever Pilcrow Lit Fest. Highlights included a plethora of panels, as well as a charity auction benefiting New Orleans' public libraries, where authors were invited to "rebuild" their books into pieces of art. My own contribution was a Harlot Hotel made of the box that my w-husband's* bike helmet came in, complete with anatomically correct sex dollies hand-sewn from previously worn-by-me pantyhose (is it wrong to admit that?). ((And yes, that's a pantyhose foreskin...)). If you are looking to rid your wallet of a couple spare bucks, I would suggest visiting the link to the library rebuilding campaign. In total, $4000 was raised that night. Hot damn!
Which brings me to this night that I insomnia myself through. Fine as the night is, this not-sleeping bullshit really blows. But the day was a delight. I traipsed with the lovely Amy Lemmon to The Cloisters where we look-seed us a bunch of medieval stuff. That's a damn cool museum, and she's a damn classy lady to museum with. Tomorrow, the plan involves Jill and Jessica and permanent body art of the ridiculous and poetic variety, as well as some sushi and, likely, liquor. I will post the body art once etched. Depending how much liquor gets imbibed, I may or may not post that.
I will be posting from West Chester. So be nice to me, Formalists!**
*"W-husband" is something I came up with the other day..."w" as in "almost ex." It's probably wrong to admit that here, as well.
**I like to think of myself as a formal-ish poet.