not ready for my close-up
Well, I maybe get it just a little bit now. Not too long ago I encountered my first nasty reader review of The Commuters on Amazon (which is weirdly missing now, but I swear I did not report it to the Amazon authorities). Luckily the late Jake Dante posted a very thoughtful rebuttal. (Jake was AK’s shy, cuddly, scholarly cat, whose fate was sealed by a careless driver on a foggy night last week. He is very much missed, and deserves more than a parenthetical. But, um, for the record, many people and cats who’ve read my book are doing just fine, so I don’t think there’s a curse or anything.)
But on the heels of the negative review, I was nervous about reading the two links to real live jou
I got off pretty easy, though. The ice-cream-to-pill ratio was in my favor. Since you’re not me, that should make reading this review (scroll down to the bottom of the article) and this review much less nerve-wracking, although also possibly less interesting.
To prove I’m not totally Norma Desmond, I am now going to promote a reading that has nothing to do with me, but which I will definitely be at, given my regard for Jamie FitzGerald’s poetry. The girl writes about Big Sur and Hello Kitty in ways that are so not your average
The Cobalt Café Reading
Saturday, Oct. 7, 7:30 p.m.
Beyond Baroque Literary
681 Venice Blvd.
Also featuring Brendan Constantine, Michael C. Ford and some other cool local poets.
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