Tequila Maiden visited me as I was watching an unironic band of hippies playing Dead-fueled idioms. As she was working, and bored, the offerings came on the generous side. Robert Creeley filled in for an allegedly ailing Andrei Codrescu at Hallwalls last night and Bob was his usual engaging and tangential self. He ended the reading tearfully and you could see every slightly-shifting person stop suddenly as they noted Creeley's tears. At one point last night I spotted two teenage couples walking arm and arm down a street and as I drove past them I honked for young love.
Valentine's Day, to the relief of many, has passed like a busy Forester in the night.
Next on the public agenda: St. Patrick's Day. Time to shop for the perfect shade of green silly string. Memory flings me back to last year's Middling City SPD Sunday parade when some little kid, without any drunken adult prompting, silly-stringed a passing cop. That's chutzpah. Flinging myself out to the ye olde Winter Fest in the blazing sun amongst thousands of sniffling families and the curious.