Well flung eve at the Stories Store, readers raucous & ruminating, rocking & real. And wouldn’t it be nice if they were all like this? Maybe they are! and we just have to look. At every rate a kickass kickoff for the West Fast Tour (sorry, did I mean Coast?), at least for my eyes, as they hadn’t made the pilgrimage to Holy Faith (sorry, did I mean Santa Fe?). And great weather it was: 75º with a chance of epiphany. Who could ask more of L.A….
Humans gather at the book cafe’s gorgeous back patio loomed with huge lotus buddha grafitti mural meditating over all. Glorious spot for a wordfest, if a bit underchaired, as the crowd packed in to warp and witness we nine thoughtsmiths wending. A comfortable packed, really, and with all engaged (and engaging), the folks were glad to be swept along while sitting, standing, shifting…
Love how Jane intros everyone by mentioning that some have long bios and some are first timers, and she won’t reveal which are which. Instead she implores the audience to “just listen to their words.” And we do.
Not gonna describe every reader in detail, espec as we’ll be blogging throughtout and many repeat. But for this missive I’ve chosen to note a fave line or two from each, and will note a detail or two from each as well. That way if we add more as we proceed, you’ll have fun puzzley pieces with which to play.
kicks off with her weavy sees, setting the tone to enigma and the energy to high.
“the barter and the batter of the words return…”
DANA BEARDSLEY CROTWELL
leads us through fairy tales & meat dreams with a sure-sung stride.
“I take you into my daisy heart.”
constructs a giant urban heart about us as we watch.
“the city covered in cloudburst as heavy as my eyelids”
BONUS POINTS for her amazing high-heeled size-zipped brown leather boots. Swanky!
CRYSTAL LANE SWIFT
gives us a reality check with flecks of joy amidst the shadow and
“the stench of mayonnaise left out too long in the summer heat.”
pours on the hope amidst despair, pours and pours until it fills our eyes and sky and
“all mirrors will reflect our inner beauty”
then implores each and every of us to
“Be a bliss terrorist!”
making it all the more likely that we will.
confounds us with witsies and puns as only Christian Georgescu can do – in short, we were Georgescued.
“lips like blackberries – I wanna text all over them”
lilts us into unsuspected places, remembering
“your breath through the whole soft husk of your sleep”
and leaves us, if only for a moment, in
“some acoustic corner where you lie ebbing like low tide, your refrain unechoed and leaving.”
Holy moly to that!
and PUMA PERL
well, Puma cuts an edge like few others can, yanking us past “hardcore midlife suicide”, through melting skin, all the way to the heights of Coney Island.
“Doin’ it in your bed never came close to those first Wonder Wheel kisses.”
oh, and I
wrapped up the melee with my usual me, whatever that is, asking Questions that should be asked because the shouldn’t, and tickling the eve with a few taut vines.
Okay, maybe I did say a thing or two, and maybe I didn’t. But that won’t change the fact that the evening soared, and left a bunch of us cavorting and chowing and beering in the depths of Mohawk bend till the wee hours began to shine.
Next up: Beyond Baroque on Saturday 9th 4:00 pm, and we are revved to mutate Venice in our graceful little way…