n. infantile pattern of suckle-swallow movement in which the tongue is placed between incisor teeth or between alveolar ridges during initial stage of swallowing (if persistent can lead to various dental abnormalities) v. [content removed due to Bush campaign to clean up the internet] n. act of nyah-nyah v. pursuing with relentless abandon the need to masticate and thrust the world into every bodily incarnation in order to transform it, via the act of salivation, into nutritive agency

Tuesday, June 19, 2007


selling the waresHere goes:

This Thursday at the Lincoln Avenue Powells, I am giving a reading with Lane Williams (a co-student at SAIC and author of A&P, which I understand is only one of his blogs, the 'esoteric' one as he calls it) and also Jeffrey Brown, a comic book artist (we're basically opening for him).

It starts at 7pm sharp. Haha, that was a shoutout for all you writers. It will actually start 7pmish.

I will be the one blushing, mostly in my ears. During my reading, if you choose not to pay attention to whatever I'm reading (I still don't know), you could possibly watch the color spread upwards from chest area, neck, ears, and across my cheeks until I step out, ten-twelve minutes later, from behind the podium. I really hate and love giving readings, but have been trying to make an effort to extend my capacities since it does, in its own little way, and much like this blog, give me energy to channel back towards the writing.

There will also be beer and snacks, depending on how much I can carry on the bus, since Lane has never been very good with the "showing up with food items" side of affairs.

Please come. And cheer for me. And laugh, even when it's not funny 'cause I really like that.


Other news: today at work, one of the managers gave me a pot (over)priced at $40 just because it had a crack in it. Then when I was all squiggly with glee and went out and picked out a flower I know I shouldn't be buying because I have less than a month left for this summer, and I'm not sure c2 is committed to watering my flowers, well... when I brought it back and went to pay for it, the manager said,

"Oh c'mon, Just take it, for god's sake. It's yours, here you go, I'm putting it near your backpack."

From 20% discount to free, free, free. It made me happy and I carried it home through the alleys pressed to my boobs, grinning, and one man smiled and said, "hello mamacita," as I walked home. It was the yellow pot, the pink flower, my purple-shirted boobs, and me feeling happy after a day out of the city and a generosity from the only manager I like.

p.s. The owner still precedes to smile intensely at me whenever he sees me, and say Hi, and nothing more, never bitching me out ever for anything, more's the joy for him than me as I would be disappointed in him and make him feel small somehow, I know I would.

I'm happy today, and off to call my mama, and then to write something pleaseletitbegood before heading off to bed.
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