I am a genius at meeting connecting trains. Philadelphia's regional transit system is a human achievement. I could feel myself melting under the lights at the Moonstone Arts Center. Debrah Morkun is fabulous. Jaime Fountaine read, then I read, then Chris Pusateri and Michelle Naka Pierce. My friends asked me if what I read - "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles" - was fiction or nonfiction, which was very flattering. I could not see the audience, and if they could see me, if they ever see me again, I think in virtually all other circumstances I would look so much better as to be unrecognizable, which I like. I looked worse, actually, at &Now. I had just gotten abruptly sick and now I am on the upswing, emerging from sick, finally, and today I really feel I have woken up from a long black spell.
I have copies of the Black Telephone in my possession. Beyond reason, they are glorious:
They are available from Kristen Stone if you catch her on her trek across America, or from me if you come to town and say the password. They will be online soon, though, like the rest of us.