With my schedule what it is, I catch my reading in forty minute sessions between bus-boardings. I've stopped trying to read things longer than poems on the buses I ride, largely due to the jostling, starts and stops and darkness. I don't get sick per se, but I get annoyed.
So I'm reading The Savage Detectives and because its a Lailey-recommendation and I started it in New York I feel somewhat like hey-- I'm still in New York! Sort of. Even when I'm sitting at the cafe at the Community College constantly checking the clock to make sure I am not late for my tutoring shift.
This morning I decided to come north before my reading session. Usually I sit for a few at Empire Coffee (pictured) in Columbia City. Timing was fortuitous because as I boarded the 41 to Lake City a dude with curly hair and a Steel Tigers of Death T-shirt boarded. Pause. That faint inner-headscratch of recognition.
Hey Arlo.
Well hello, Graham.
Been probably 7 years (last time I saw him I think I'd not yet compiled Because I Don't Play Guitar since the other founding member of the i.o.i. and I last saw eachother; as katherine would often like to reminisce, we met at 13 in a house in Shoreline where a woman who advertised herself as a "writing mentor for teens" was having a meet-up for young writers.
the rest, as they say, is history.
more to come?
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