Last night was the launch party for No, Dear ’s ninth issue, wonderfully themed “nine.” I have always had a strange relationship with numbers, as I imagine them as fully gendered and subsequently personified. I imagine this is due to my synesthesia. Nine is authoritative, stalwart, and transgendered in my mind, being where it is at the edge of the world.
Here’s a cover of the issue, plus my poem, centerfolded and thrilled to be here.
Tomorrow I read at Pete’s Candy Store in Williamsburg. The reading starts at 7pm.
As a rule, I try to only read “new” material, though for someone as woefully unpublished as I am, “new” is always the Exact Poet I Am To You At This Moment Unless You Know Me And For That I’m Sorry. So in celebration of that, I skipped dinner to drink whiskey and write a new poem. I will at the very least look skinny and sad. See you then!
I will be better at the internet.
I will be reading tomorrow at the fantastic Southern Writers Series at Happy Endings in Chinatown. I am not Southern, but I appreciate that Happy Endings is at least appropriately where it should be.
No, we’re not.
(Source: screenshotsofdespair)
It looks like moon-mining is set to go whenever we are.
I’m reading next Saturday, December 17th, in Brooklyn.
