I think I might be an idiot.
I went to dinner and drinks with a bunch of writers last night and I have a writing blog and I didn’t even bring my Didge Cam. Well that was dumb as boiled tortilla chips. It spleened me. I am going to blog about hanging out with these writers, but sorry no pics. Instead I staggered around my house this morning and took 3 random photos. You will have to imagine these photos are something else entirely. I need you to do that. I need you to do. I need you to. I need you. I need. I.
This is Nikole Brown and Kyle Minor and Laurie Lindeen giving a reading at the BSU art museum. What a room, huh? We are very fortunate to have access to this vast imaginative space, as you can see. It is whole hog awesome. The reading was a 8.9, way up there on my Dedicated Lovelace Scale of Badassness. I hope you see that Nikole has an amazing smile and that Kyle is thoughtful and often edgy and that Laurie said Judy Bloome was an influence on her writing.
(When various Heads of State arrived at the White House, Lyndon Johnson’s chef, Henry Haller, was proud of how his “steaming nachos adorned a long buffet table decorated with yellow roses…”)
Kyle read fiction about a young girl being chased through tobacco fields. (spoiler: she might get caught)
Laurie read nonfiction about boxcars and hobos and a very beautiful Nordic painter. (spoiler: the hobos might set her car afire)
Nikole read poetry about a character peeing on the side of a house (but in a good way). (spoiler: Nikole might have quaffed a Blue Moon at dinner. Huge-ass slice of orange. The orange slice was larger than the beer glass. It was like a monolith of orange. It was the largest slice of orange I have seen so far.)
I was happy as a dead pig in the sunshine. I felt skint. A good time. These were all good people I felt and their words felt like maybe spring is nearing. Maybe near.
(Pour an undrunk bottle of rum over the kebabs. Add rhythm and allspice to the nachos. Serves 14.)
Next we had dinner, and two Sycamore Review editors joined us. One was from Iran. I asked him, “Does Iran have separation of church and state?” Then I said, “Are Iran and the U.S. fighting a cold war in Israel?” I’m not sure what I meant by these questions. He answered them all. He answered them rather well.
He said his taco was too hot. He started sweating. I thought, “He sure is sweating over that taco.” He was really sweating. I had a friend who would sweat that way over hot wings. It was pretty much endearing. I left thinking this in Tao Lin quotes: “That was a cool guy. I wish I could have talked with him more.”
Another editor said she ran marathons (like me) and then after the second marathon she had two seizures and stomach problems and I guess almost died, like that. We talked proper preparation for a marathon. I told her, “You should get a doctor who is also a runner.”
She seemed like she really wanted to run another marathon although she almost died after the last one. I could totally get that. I felt close to her then, spiritually. I felt much obliged to talk with her.
(Nachos are not cowpoke food. That is a misrepresentation of nachos.)
Out of nowhere someone at the table said loudly, “That guy Blake Butler makes his money writing about poker. That’s how he makes his money. Did you know that?”
(I did not. I was startled to hear the words Blake Butler. I had not blogged in a few days and felt detached from blogging and someone yells out Blake Butler. It almost put me off my feed.)
We ate fried pickles and I ordered…yes! Check out these fucking nachos!!!
Can we say salsa?? Do you notice how the chef actually correctly placed the jalapenos? Finally!
Next Kyle said, “I am done with my readings and so CAN I GET A QUALITY BEER IN MUNCIE?!” And Laurie said, “Hell yeh!” (She is a rocker at heart. She was/is member of Zuzu’s Petals.)
(Caviar doesn’t have to be beluga for certain upscale nachos. Long story.)
(Laurie in middle here)
Uh, Kyle and Laurie, you are preaching to the exponential choir now. I said, “Drinking? I’ll take you to the Heorot!”
I took them to the Heorot.
(A flattened waffle is basically a nacho. I mean you can take it that way, with tenaciousness.)
At the Heorot Daniel Bailey walked up and spilled his flask on me.
I said, “Dude.”
He laughed. I love Daniel Bailey’s laugh. It’s like a Motherlode of mandatory triggers. He said, “I feel like my whole life is nachos and I wonder who made them, and are they enjoying the experience?”
Here is my final photo. This is Kyle singing Karaoke up on the stage! That is Laurie smoking the cigarette in the background! That is me on the saxophone!!! Wow.