Damn it. My first real, non-archiving, blog-ish post here and it’s going to be about my feelings.
It’s been an excellent week in Poetry for Natalie Zed. Wednesday night, I read at the 7th installment of the NOW HEAR THIS! Hear/Hear reading series with Angela Szczepaniak and Elisabeth De Mariaffi. The back room we inhabited at the Free Times Cafe was filled with a happy, responsive crowd. Angela and Elisabeth read beautifully; both of them produce (very different) work that is disarmingly funny and devastating by turns. All our work dovetailed together into a performance that felt successful and coherent. I had a blast sharing the stage with them.
After the performance, we stayed for hours drinking cheap Creemore pints and talking about…vaginas, mostly. Popowich was incredibly patient while about half a dozen women volunteered complex opinions on placentas and the art of pubic hair topiary. By the end of the night, we’d made some solid, hilarious plans for future shenanigans involving retractable high heels and public bath houses.
Last night, I attended the launch of Sweet, the second volume of poetry by the incomparable Dani Couture. The event also served at the launch for Perter Darbyshire‘s newest novel, The Warhol Gang, and the latest issue of Taddle Creek. There were friends and veggie burgers, and free beer handed out by the friendliest Steamwhistle employee in the world. We were ambushed by a terrible hipster-folk band, and I threatened to fight someone much, much smarter than me on the topic of French heavy metal. There may have even been a huge animatronic bear.
And here is where the feelings come in: I love this. I love spending time with smart, hilarious, talented people who care deeply about things. I love that one of my poems may end up in a vending machine. I love waking up with a headache and band names written on my arm in sharpie. Every now and again, I have a week that reminds me exactly why I love what I do; this was one of those weeks.
