What a great event.

It was cathartic to read “Dispatch…” last night. I had retired it, partially because of the emotions it brought up —
and doing it last night, it felt right that I had retired it, and that I had brought it out as well.

It turns out that one of the women who spoke last night had lost her husband, who happened to be sitting next to Robin Kaplan, one of my friends, on Flight 11. We hugged, talked, and it was good.

They are going to hang my poem, “Gift”, on the caisson of the stone as they walk.

No, I don’t miss Nationals. Not at all.

If you’re in Boston, come see me tonight at the Cantab, where I’ll be featuring…we’ll talk non-slam stuff and read poetry.

love,
T

Coulda predicted this.

Your CD collection is almost as big as your ego,
and you can most likely play an instrument or
three. You’re a real hit at parties, but you’re
SO above karaoke.
What people love: You’re instant entertainment.
Unless you play the obo.
What people hate: Your tendency to sing louder than
the radio and compare everything to a freaking
song.

What Kind of Elitist Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

really really well.

Profoundly well.

I am glad I went, glad I read what I read, and glad beyond hope that they are doing this.

More later.