Wednesday, February 25, 2009

What I Did Last Night And Why You Should Come To The Makeout Room This Saturday

Well, before I get back into the Psittacosaurus I've got a couple of things to do. This is the first.

Last night I attended a reading at Moe's Books in Berkeley. It's one of my favorite bookstores, one I've been going to since I was in high school. This reading was centered around a couple of books, noir anthologies centered around San Francisco. Believe it or not, they're called San Francisco Noir and San Francisco Noir 2. (I bought the damned books even though I shouldn't be spending the money -- but they look like good reads. If they count Bierce as a noir influence, I am so there.)

I went because John Shirley was reading and ol' Rob said he was going to attend. Since Shirley was kind enough to give us a story for the next issue of Swill I thought I'd show a litttle support and take advantage of the opportunity to meet the man.

Well, Rob never showed -- and until I hear from him I'm assuming that something terrible has happened and he's lying dead in a ditch somewhere -- but I had a great time anyway, despite the miserable chairs that left my fucking back in agony. (Is every fucking furniture designer in the world a little person seeking vengeance on the large?)

I have to admit that Shirley wasn't quite what I expected -- but then, based on his work I was expecting a seven-foot semen-crusted blood-spattered drugsucking maniac with a hook for a hand and a ring of cranial jacks circling a skull surgically expanded to fit a brain swollen by neurotropic abuse.

Instead, I met a soft-spoken well-dressed man with a pleasant demeanor who was quite willing to engage me in conversation. Of course, I was in my out-in-public persona, which means that I hid the soul of a timid woodland animal behind a veil of nervous courtesy so I suppose I came across as deceptively quiet myself.

But I suspect that Mr. Shirley wore a hat and an ankle-length coat to hide his implants and when he read his, shall we say, escalating enthusiasm made me suspect that there was a maniac on the premises after all. Good times.

So I'm going to another reading of Mr. Shirley's on Saturday. And he said that if I could bring copies of the magazine he'd wave 'em around and I could maybe sell a few. Cool! So if you live in the Bay Area, you might want to go to the LitPunk show.

It's at the Makeout Room in San Francisco (3225 22nd Street at Mission, about two blocks from the 24th St. BART station), 7:30 to 9:30. There'll be a bit of performance art in addition to the reading, a (what is the term for a group of these people? I know --) disturbance of literary punk rockers, and, yes, live oaf. I don't come out of my room that often so if you're curious, this is your chance.

And it's my birthday so you better be nice to me. Christ, I'll be forty-five and I'm just starting to pursue my ambitions... Oh, well. Can't be helped.

See you there.

1 comment:

robp said...

I don't believe I actually said I was going; I asked if you were going and said if you were I'd see you there. I is a spy.

Glad you and John Shirley met and got along; I, unfortunately, remain in the midst (mist?) of attempting to decipher form 4562 and article C, and around the time of the reading was under the foolish misapprehension that I was figuring out the IRS arcane.

A few hours after that I started drinking.

The ditch I'm in is metaphoric, which would be a good thing if only it were measurable. Must get back into it now.