List number one isn't so much a list. It's sort of a list. But not entirely. That's the sort of day i'm having, so, dear reader, fuckin' deal with it.
I tallied the total and over the course of 2010, I did 14 readings. Which is like, one and an eight per month. Or something. Granted, two were at residencies where I lived (one at Warm Beach house on the deck, one here in brighton) and a couple were at Gusta's Your Hands Your Mouth readings in B'ham.
Still, that's still a solid amount, especially considering I didn't do any tours or have any new shit I was trying to make people buy. This is sort of a form of bragging, but it is also a way of feeling less generally unaccomplished in the face of various successes (both deserved and un-) around me. I tend to hold it's better to compare yourself against yourself than others. Because there's always someone doing better.
The last reading I did in 2010 was at the Lights Of Christmas coffee shop. Trying to explain the worlds-collide nature of having performance poetry at a christmas-light display in North Snohomish County is too much for right here (and would rely on way too many simplifications) but I successfully wrote some borderline-uplifting stuff that I don't hate and people dug the reading.
other than that my fave readings were: Portland: Beer and Cookies Cabaret. . . oh man. so many chocolate chip cookies and sessions lager and a film about robots and comedians and country music. Eva Suter can throw an art party.
Swansea: The Crunch . . . need I say more?
Seattle, U-District: New Crompton w/Deerseekingheadlights, My Printer Broke We broadcast this on chatroulette and there was dissonant sludgefolk and sweet noise and songs about cats.
There are way more that roughly tie these, but I don't want to screw the economy of reading-status with inflation.
The other thing I did artistically, and perhaps most significantly, was start to visual art in an official way again. Also, verb words. Look at the pics here.
maybe next year there will be some longass post about a new book (or at least chapbook) that someone else is putting out (a goal of mine) or Conspiracy Agogo's east coast tour or my new found life as a regional-humour standup. The future, like they say, unwrit.