dispatches

The circus was in town again last night.

---

Dear C,

At the reading last night, your idol just read some porn he wrote for a freelancing gig. It was actually pretty funny, and I'm sure he was trying to do something like, make us reconsider the assumptions we make about what is "Art," but I really just wanted to hear him read something he felt serious about and maybe which would help me consider whether to buy his book. The other giant of the evening was difficult to follow. Overall, I want to say, you will probably be just fine without this particular experience, especially when you consider all the other experiences you are having instead.

The best was Lindsay Hunter, who read a piece using the perspective of a sort of Humbert Humbert. "Look at the moon, it's a drop of paint. See that moon? It's a rolled-back eye." It was eerie. It was damn good. But her choice to use a thick, fake Southern accent to represent this awful man made me go, "oh?"

---

I had my first Madison couch surfer last night. Of course my toilet decided to start spurting water the moment there was a guest around. I have given up on assuming technology will "just work" for me. I have a large stock of towels and laundry quarters, and the neighbors downstairs were not flooded.