“BACK TO THE OLD HOUSE”

Ah, I am home, sitting at my desk, in my apartment overlooking the busy street, with my tiny kitty at my feet. Happy, happy. I had a blast in Omaha, though, I have to tell you. Omaha and I are like this.

Where did I leave off? Oh, right, the tornado.

Afterwards, the literary sex panel went wonderfully, except for Jami Attenberg and I being accused of underrepresenting eroticism in our work by Frederick Reuss. And, that perhaps this was generational. Say what? I wanted to pull the guy aside and explain that just because my work, or her work, or anyone else’s work for that matter, doesn’t cater directly to the center of his universe, does not mean our writing ceases to be erotic.

I love it when people forget they don’t speak for everyone.

And, I would be terribly negligent to not share Ad Hudler’s interpretation of my Einstein in Nebraska.

So, to recap Omaha:

Arrive, hotel was fabulous, reading with Jami at Reading Grounds went well, cocktails were consumed afterwards by the two of us and new friend Mike, then there was the pseudo-barfight, then Friday was spent exploring Omaha, then many beautiful pieces of art were seen, taken in, considered and loved at the Bemis Center, then off to the cocktail party and deconstructed book auction at the library, back to the Bemis center for some drinking with the resident artists, big fun on comedy panel with Ad, Charlene and Will, chardonnay and beautiful conversation at Mr. Toad’s, rest, tornado, big fun on lit-sex panel with Jami, Tim, fabulous sex counselor, Janette, Terese, Marilyn (Yes, that Marilyn who wrote Marcella) and of course, the fabulous Timothy, then Mike, Jami and I clinked our glasses once more in a secret bar on a bridge, sleep, brunch, travel, travel, home, rain, sleep.

Oh, and I did see a giant, overturned pig-chef tossed on the sidewalk without explanation on my way out of town. Just when I thought I had Omaha figured out, art kept popping up in the strangest places.

Oh, and speaking of sitting on panels with people, dear Galleycat, (who I also met this weekend– poor chap, I bored the shit out of him rambling on about my Van Peebles interivew and surrounding blaxploitation projects) was good enough to mention us in Media Bistro this morning. I like how I appear to be checking out Will Clarke’s crotch in the center picture, and how, though I am cut out of the bottom picture, Charlene and Ad are undoubtedly laughing at my jackassery, as I was sitting to the right of them.

Goon Squad Sarah and I had a nice talk this week that you can read about here. I love how people think writers get free books. Well, sadly, I’m here to tell you, we do not. We might get a few, but not a hoard. Well, anyway, my book has never been read by the leader of a Goon Squad, so I might have to find a way to sneak her a copy… She is pretty cool, after all.

And, this interview by Margaret Fieland just popped up, too. Please be sure to click through and show everyone some love, click, comment, repeat.

Not a bad week, kids. Not too shabby at all.

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