Giving a poetry reading at Expressions Art Gallery in Berkeley was an energizing experience. The audience possessed an exquisite quality of listening, and the Director, Rinna Flohr, has curated an extraordinary exhibit, The 4 Rs: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, Regrow, which runs through the end of August – so you still have time to check out all the coolness! I especially like the artist who enhanced a series of denim jackets with designs both unique and elegant – if one had fit me, I would have bought it immediately! Readings take place every month, and there are light refreshments.
I am now Officially Californian, it seems, having voluntarily embarked on a month-long cleanse. Not the hard-core, juices only kind, but the kinder, gentler, “thou shalt CUT OUT SUGAR AND CREAM AND CARBS for THIRTY DAYS, o hapless supplicant” category. I am so elated – I mean STARVING – I mean, this is a snap! Instead of the voice from the burning bush, I’m hearing the Voice from the Adamant Deity of Don’t Eat That. God help me! Stay tuned. . .and keep your goodie cabinets locked tight when I visit
@ Litcrawl, but I was still standing! – and honored to read to a packed bar of attentive listeners in the Mission last night. People soaking up words like waffles when the syrup hits – well, there was that one drunk guy in the back who didn’t seem to realize there was a reading going on, but maybe that’s why nobody gave him the mic.
I read from my new memoir-in-progress and was serenaded by a green scarf-wearing woman with a captivating accent – ok, at my request, but I never could carry a tune and there was a line from a song on page three, and –
I haven’t had so much fun since doing live writing with the Portugeuse Artists’ Colony in August!
This is what I saw en route to the afterparty: a three-legged dog tethered to a hydrant by a red leash, a tall man wearing blue and orange feathers in his hair, and a VW bug festooned with white twinkle lights.
Oh, and a your-sink-is-backed-up, baby – Drano, pronto! grey Victorian all tricked out for Hallowe’en
Blessings and bags of top-notch treats for your loving hearts, my fans, my friends, my favorites – whether you’re far away or filling the next seat.
Now, this looks like a job for me So everybody, just follow me ‘Cause we need a little controversy ‘Cause it feels so empty without me. ~ “Without Me,” by Eminem
Once upon a time, a blonde writer moved to California and learned a few things:
- People in the Sunshine State don’t throw bibles at her cleavage like church ladies did in small Southern towns.
- It IS possible to gain 6 pounds in 6 months by eating amazing healthy food – even if you walk everywhere!
- The best brownies EVER are at Hot Cookie in the Castro! (worth the 7th pound)
- You may be offered medical marijuana by a stranger while you are in a park playing with your dog.
- Many people have read the same books you’ve read and actually reference them in casual conversation (more intoxicating than the Hot Cookie offerings! .
- Coffee, coffee, coffee.
- It’s ok to be naked, male and painted blue before noon during a San Francisco Love Parade – just don’t shimmy up the lamp post.
- There IS something in the water here – and it’s extraordinary!
Maybe that’s what I’m missing in my Musings – a bubbly infusion! Pink Champagne is my favorite – it goes with the streak in my hair. Each fizzy sip from a perfect flute might inspire giddy lines pertaining to subjects to which some might object – a perfect combination! As for being gayer – well, then I’d be in esteemed company. That’s the best way to make me send a thank you note immediately. Today’s menu: Champagne for Blondie, served with a smile and a wiggle.
Oh, oh, you will be sorry for that word!
Give me back my book and take my kiss instead.
Was it my enemy or my friend I heard,
“What a big book for such a little head!”
Edna St. Vincent Millay, early 20th century
“I am not a pretty girl.
That is not what I do.”
Ani DiFranco, late 20th century
I like to play dumb for ironical purposes;
it’s the vamp-camp thing. So many believe it
that I once created a testosterone circus.
Whether or not I’m pretty remains to be seen,
but I am pretty funny – and feisty -
and I like to read in limousines.
What if I introduced myself as “Blonde, Just Blonde”? Would I be as debonair as Daniel Craig? He’s blonde. Would I discover “Blondetinis” on the menu of every chic martini bar, and would I create a shake, not a stir, when I entered? Would I sustain phenomenal grace under pressure, drive every fast car like a panther in a prizefight, and always look good in a suit? Best of all, would women stare me down, say things like “I’m the money” and stake me in casinos?